A Bee in Her Bonnet Read Online Free Page A

good look at those boys in the car, but you still have your fingers. Luke is no coward. We should probably give him some token of our gratitude.”
    â€œRose already gave him some cookies,” Poppy said. She sounded sullen and pouty, even to herself. Wouldn’t Luke Bontrager just love to gloat over her.
    â€œYou could write him a thank-you note,” Rose said.
    Gute idea. She could shove it in his mailbox and never even have to talk to him.
    Lily’s smile grew gradually, like a flower opening to the sun. “Make him a honey apple pie. It’s one of your best recipes.”
    â€œNae,” Aunt B said. “We mustn’t feed him.”
    â€œBut, Aunt Bitsy,” Rose said, glancing at Lily, “he saved her life. It’s got to be big.”
    Aunt B tapped her finger against her cheek. “What about a bouquet of flowers? He can’t eat flowers.”
    â€œThe way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Rose said.
    Lily nodded while B shook her head. “We don’t want to get anywhere near his heart, so you can just forget about that idea.”
    Lily looked sideways at Rose. “Let Poppy decide.”
    Poppy stifled a frustrated groan. Conceited Luke Bontrager had saved her hand with his frightening crowbar. Rose was right. The thank-you would have to be big. She’d have to make him a honey apple pie, but she wouldn’t have to be happy about it.
    Aunt B took out one of her earrings and set it on the table. “Now,” she said, starting on the other earring, “we’re going to the hospital. I think your hand is broken.”
    Ach! She’d never hear the end of this from Luke.
    She wanted to smack herself upside the head.
    With her good hand, of course.

Chapter Three
    The sun hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon as Poppy and Rose went outside to gather eggs in the dim morning light. During the day the chickens wandered about the yard, pecking at feed or scratching for juicy worms and snails. At night they roosted in the small coop behind the barn. There were only eight chickens, but they supplied enough eggs that the Honeybee Sisters never needed to buy extra, even when they made cookies and a cake on the same day.
    Poppy linked arms with Rose, and they skipped down the porch steps together. “I think Tilly has stopped laying,” Rose said. “But don’t tell Aunt Bitsy. She’ll want to cook her for dinner.”
    â€œThat’s where she’ll end up eventually,” Poppy said.
    Rose sighed. “I know, but I hate thinking about it.”
    â€œIt’s too bad it’s not Big Bertha who’s quit laying. She pecks my hands something wonderful every time I reach for her eggs.”
    Rose used to collect the eggs by herself every morning, but ever since the first time their beehive had been upended, over a month ago, no one had felt completely comfortable letting Rose go by herself. They were all a little spooked by the mischief making.
    Rose carried the egg basket because Poppy’s hand still felt sore. At least it wasn’t broken. Poppy smiled to herself through the pain. She loved that Luke Bontrager had been wrong about her hand. On her way home from the hospital two days ago, Poppy had been tempted to stop by Luke’s house, flex her fingers in his face, and gloat. But then he probably would have taken great pleasure in the fact that she had followed his advice and gone to the doctor in the first place, so she couldn’t see much of a victory in an unbroken hand. She hadn’t made Luke a thank-you pie. It hurt too much to even think of rolling out a crust yet.
    When they strolled around to the south side of the barn, Rose caught her breath and pulled up short, almost yanking Poppy’s arm out of its socket. “Look, Poppy.”
    Instead of being nestled safely in the coop, their eight chickens were on the ground huddled against the side of the barn, fast asleep. At the sound