Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 (24 page)

“I’m fine,” Aunt Libby assured her. Then worry lines appeared. “But who would…why?” She gazed at the empty road ahead of them, anger clouding her normally placid expression. “Really. What kind of rude driver sideswipes someone like that? I mean, he didn’t even stop to see if we were all right!”

“No, he didn’t,” said Theodosia. She knew darn well they hadn’t been sideswiped. They’d been rammed hard from behind. And deep inside her was the unspoken thought,
I have a terrible feeling he didn’t want us to be all right
.

Dubose Bees was
a third-generation farm that had been raising bees and producing honey for some sixteen years. It had originally been a little bit of everything—apple orchard, alfalfa fields, dairy farm. Now the fields were overgrown with clover and tall grasses, and sturdy apple and cherry trees dominated the landscape.

Harry Dubose and his family lived in a compact white clapboard house set up on stilts and surrounded by a lovely veranda. Two other buildings sat close by, a larg ehip-roofed barn and a smaller, newer gift shop.

When Theodosia and Aunt Libby pulled into the yard, they parked and headed immediately for the gift shop.

As the bell above the door tinkled, Harry Dubose looked up from behind the counter. He wore khaki slacks, matching shirt, and a long, yellow apron with a smiling honeybee logo. He had a big grin on his face and a jar of tupelo honey in his hand. “Welcome!” he cried. He set the honey down and came around the counter to greet them.

Once Theodosia did the introductions, they snooped around the gift shop. She was amazed at the products Dubose Bees was selling. Cherry blossom honey, apple blossom honey, clover honey, cream honey, comb honey, honey mustard, and even beeswax candles. And a couple of jars of coveted melon honey, too.

“I hope you saved two cases of that for me,” said Theodosia.

Dubose dipped his head. “I surely did.”

“Excellent,” Theodosia replied. “And I have a basket of honey scones for you as well as some of Drayton’s vanilla honey tea.”

“You don’t say,” said Dubose, clearly pleased by her generosity. “Honey tea?”

“It’s a blend of white tea with hints of vanilla bean and honey,” said Theodosia.

“Is that something I could retail here in our gift shop?” Dubose asked. “I mean, I think our customers might enjoy that. Honey tea.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Theodosia.

They pushed open the screen door and walked outside. Theodosia grabbed the basket filled with scones and tea and presented it to Dubose while Aunt Libby grabbed her field glasses.

“Say,” said Dubose, looking at her car, “looks like you ran off the road somewhere along the way.” Mud spattered the bottom half of her Jeep and a few matted weeds stuck to the wheel well.

“Something like that,” said Theodosia.

“Guess that’s what four-wheel-drive vehicles are for,” said Dubose. “Off road.” He grinned. “You want to see our operation, don’t you?”

“You mean the hives?” asked Theodosia.

“Sure,” said Dubose. “That’s where all the magic happens.”

“Are we going to need protective gear?” Theodosia asked.

“Naw,” said Dubose, waving a hand. “Our honeybees are very well behaved.”

They walked together down a well-trod path, through tall grasses and along a row of short, leafy trees.

“Those are Asian pear trees we planted a couple of years ago,” Dubose pointed out. “We’re hoping they’ll bear substantial fruit this summer.”

“So you’re planning to have pear-flavored honey?” said Theodosia.

“That’s the general idea,” said Dubose.

They continued their walk. Sunlight streamed down as a warm breeze stirred across the meadow and gently lifted the hair off the back of Theodosia’s neck.
Summer
, she thought. Always welcome and almost in full swing.

Ahead they could see white stacks of hives, lined up like mini condos.

“How many hives do you have?” Theodosia asked.

“Two hundred and forty,” said Dubose.

“Good heavens!” Aunt Libby suddenly exclaimed. She lifted her trusty field binoculars to her face and tried to focus on a multicolored bird that had just flitted from one tree to the next. “Could that have been a painted bunting?”

“Could be,” said Dubose. “They’re rare, but we see them around here every once in a while.”

“Sweet little gaudies,” said Aunt Libby, smiling.

“That’s cute,” said Theodosia. After their earlier mishap, she was delighted Aunt Libby seemed to be having such a good time.

“I call them that because they
are
gaudy,” Aunt Libby explained. “Particularly the males with their blue heads, bright green wings, and red underparts.” She lifted her field glasses to her eyes again, studied the trees for an instant, then strode on ahead. She was anxious to catch a better look.

Next to Theodosia, Dubose’s cell phone suddenly tinkled a sixties tune.

“Hang on,” he told her.

Theodosia wandered a few feet away to give him privacy. She reached up into one of the pear trees and touched an index finger to a little green node. A potential pear. Hopefully, it would grow and ripen into a juicy, luscious fruit. Perhaps Drayton could even incorporate some of these locally grown pears into one of his proprietary tea blends. Maybe…Chinese black tea flavored with pear, honey, and a hint of ginger?

A rustle in the nearby brush suddenly caught Theodosia’s attention. She turned and slowly walked toward what was a deeper, thicker woods adjacent to the apiary. Was someone out there? Was that what she’d heard? No, it was probably a whitetail deer stepping carefully through the woods. Or possibly even a wild boar. Amazingly, wild boar had been spotted rummaging and foraging not ten miles from Charleston!

Theodosia didn’t know if wild boar were truly dangerous, but her curiosity was ramped up. She picked her way closer to the woods, resolving to scramble up into a tree if one of the wild piggies made its presence known and came scooting out to threaten her.

More rustling of leaves off to her right. She grinned. Something was definitely out there. But from the motion of the leaves and the sound of things, whatever it was had to be higher off the ground than a boar.

So…maybe a deer with her fawn? That would be a lovely sight.

As she stood listening, she heard a sudden clunk from about thirty feet away. A dull thud that sounded as if someone had pitched a baseball against a wooden fence. Or maybe a rock.

What?

Right on the heels of that came a frightened yelp!

Oh no…Aunt Libby?

Theodosia spun around and sprinted back to the path. She
hastily jogged left, heading for the stacks of hives she’d spotted earlier. To where she thought the strange sounds had originated.

Aunt Libby was there, all right. Field glasses still pressed to her face as she scanned the trees. What she didn’t see was a stream of bees suddenly arcing upward into the air. Like a miniature cyclone, the gang of bees seemed to swell, and then they closed ranks and flew in a massive circle.

“Dear Lord!” Theodosia cried. “I hope they don’t…”

She choked on her words as a group of bees suddenly veered from the main swarm and headed directly for Aunt Libby!

“Aunt Libby!” Theodosia’s shrill cry rent the air. Startled, Aunt Libby dropped her field glasses, turned quickly, and, in an instant, took in the small storm of bees that was headed directly for her!

Aunt Libby started to run, then suddenly flung up both arms and began frantically swatting the air.

Without hesitation, Theodosia pounded her way toward Aunt Libby.

“Theo!” Aunt Libby cried out, as she flailed like crazy, trying to shield her face! “Help!” Her cries sounded shrill and pitiful.

Within seconds, Theodosia was in the thick of things, swatting at a small cloud of bees, pulling off the scarf from around her neck and trying to swaddle it around Aunt Libby’s head so the bees couldn’t get to her.

Twenty seconds later, Harry Dubose was beside them, squirting great drafts of water from a green hose that just seemed to materialize. And just as fast as they’d converged on Aunt Libby, the bees retreated and the incident was over.

“Aunt Libby!” Theodosia cried. “Oh, dear heavens, are you okay?”

Aunt Libby’s eyes were open wide in panic and her lips seemed to move soundlessly.

No, it was obvious she wasn’t okay. Not in the least.

“She get stung?” asked Dubose, panting from the exertion.

“On her face,” said Theodosia. She placed her hands on each side of Aunt Libby’s head and studied her carefully. “Maybe five, no I see eight distinct welts.”

“What happened?” asked Dubose. “The bees don’tusually…” He was worried and breathless, afraid for Aunt Libby, rattled that such an accident could take place when he’d assured them they’d be perfectly safe.

“I think somebody threw something at one of the hives,” Theodosia said quickly, still clutching Aunt Libby to assess the damage. “A rock. Or maybe hit it with a stick.” She tried to catch her breath, too. “To…to antagonize the bees.”

“Caused them to defend their home,” said Dubose. He turned his full attention to Aunt Libby again. “Is she allergic? Should we inject her with an EpiPen?”

Aunt Libby’s eyelids fluttered. “I…I’m okay.”

“No, she’s not,” said Dubose. “That many stings, she’s gonna experience a drop in blood pressure and possible swelling of the airways.”

Like the chemical reaction in a popover when its ingredients suddenly reacted to intense heat, Aunt Libby’s face and hands were beginning to swell. It started with a small degree of redness and tightness of her skin, and then her face and hands began to puff with greater intensity. Even worse, Aunt Libby seemed to be hiccupping as she struggled with her breathing!

“Let’s give her the injection, then run her to the hospital!” Theodosia cried.

Dubose leaned forward, swept Aunt Libby up in his arms, and carried her back to the parking lot. He ran all the way, puffing and sweating bullets.

“Hospital!” Theodosia cried again, but one of Dubose’s assistants had seen them coming and he was already there with an EpiPen. Dubose grabbed it, shucked off the protective
paper, and, with practiced hands, immediately jabbed the needle into Aunt Libby’s upper arm. Hopefully, it would kick in fast and counteract the effects of the bee venom.

They loaded a slightly groggy Aunt Libby into Theodosia’s Jeep, then Dubose jumped into his white 4Runner truck. “Follow me!” he yelled, grinding gears and taking off in a cloud of dust.

It was only six miles to the nearby St. Francis Hospital, but it felt like sixty miles to Theodosia. Aunt Libby slumped in the front seat, her skin pale, her breathing thready. Still, she managed a weak smile. The old gal was hanging in there.

They swept up the drive to the emergency room entrance and Theodosia jumped from her Jeep almost before it had ground to a complete stop. She rushed through a set of sliding glass doors, glanced at a bevy of nurses and med techs who were congregated behind a counter, and cried, “Emergency! Please help. I’ve got an eighty-two-year-old woman who’s been stung by bees!”

Theodosia’s urgent pleas
suddenly kicked everything into a blur of activity. A nurse sprinted out to check on Aunt Libby while an orderly followed close on her heels, dragging a metal gurney. Carefully, they transferred Aunt Libby from Theodosia’s Jeep to the gurney. Then, moments later, amid a clatter of wheels on pavement and a flutter of blankets, she was rushed into the emergency room.

Theodosia sat on a purple plastic chair, feeling awful and a little alone. Aunt Libby was, after all, her only living relative.

“I feel responsible for this.” Dubose had knotted his baseball cap in his big hands and was picking frantically at the brim. His eyes werered-rimmed and scared.

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Theodosia. She knew that if anyone was to blame, it was her. She was the one who’d let Aunt Libby go wandering off into the woods, doing herbird-watching thing right alongside all those hives. She was the one who’d heard something moving in the woods and never
made a connection. Never figured thatsomething—orsomeone—might foolishly stir up the bees.