Page 24 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Olive

Three days later

I sit at the bar with Rick and press the video link that Hunter just sent me for approval.

He wants to make sure I’m okay with everything before he posts it on his channel.

Hunter asked for my phone number on the ride home from Sonjia’s the other day.

I gave it to him gladly, but then felt anxious after, worried he might get the wrong idea.

I bite my lip slightly as the screen loads.

Hunter stopped by two days ago to film some more footage of the bar before we opened for the day.

He spent an hour with Rob, interviewing him about Whiskey’s and getting some more of the bar's history from him.

By the time he left, Rob was grinning from ear to ear.

Hunter seems to have that effect on everyone once he talks with them.

Unfortunately, he seems to have that effect on me, too. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. Even though I just saw him a few days ago, it feels like it's been months.

Finally, the video starts to play. The screen is black, and I hear Rob’s voice start talking about Whiskey Jane’s.

He talks about Seymour and Jane, his relationship with them, how they always treated him like family.

The screen brightens and pans from the giant mountain view behind the bar to the front entrance of Whiskey Jane’s.

Then, as if the viewer is walking into the bar themselves, Hunter’s hand reaches out from behind the camera and pushes the door open.

When he enters, there’s me behind the bar, dancing and singing along to Dolly.

Hunter’s strong voice speaks over the video clip.

“This local bar in my hometown is in danger of closing. It’s a staple for people in this community and needs to be saved.

Every time I come to Whiskey Jane’s, I fall more in love with the bar.

I have decided to bring you all along with me as I learn more about this local treasure and the community it has created. ”

The camera pans to the walls and Hunter’s deep voice continues, “See the art on the walls? The love notes? The memories? This has all been created in the past forty years since the bar opened. Imagine the heartbreak for the community if the owner lost the bar. This is the owner’s legacy and unfortunately, she has been very ill.

I want to help the manager save the bar. ”

My cheeks flush as Hunter appears on the screen in a room.

I’m assuming it’s his bedroom. He talks to the camera like a natural, explaining his plan and that he created a funding page if viewers want to donate if they are moved by the cause.

He pushes his hair out of his eyes and grins as he talks about picking the bumblebee picture first.

His smile is so endearing, I want to reach out and squeeze his face. No wonder he has so many subscribers; not only is he talented but he's so attractive. If I had to guess, half of them must be women who could care less about skateboarding.

Hunter continues to speak as the screen changes to the outside of the Rays’ cabin. Suddenly, he stops talking and there’s no music in the clip either—just the beauty of the cabin and birds chirping as the camera pans over the scenery.

With the sound of birds still singing in the background, Sonjia appears on the screen, sitting on her porch bench. Hunter asks her the question, “So tell me, Mrs. Sonjia, what does Whiskey Jane’s mean to you?”

Her face lights up instantly. “The bar means everything to me. It’s where I met my best friend, Jane, and it’s how I got my bees.”

“Your bees?” Hunter asks from behind the camera.

“That’s right,” she responds. “One day, forty-six years ago, I was bringing my husband his lunch, which he always forgot”—Sonjia laughs while saying this—“to his store.

As I pulled up, I saw a business was getting built across the street and there was a young man outside painting the building. I walked over and introduced myself.

“He said his name was Seymour and we talked for at least thirty minutes; he told me they were making the space into a bar.

He then told me that I had to go inside and meet his wife, Jane, and have a beer.

Seymour said that she would love me, and this first drink was on them because I was their first visitor.

“I walked in the building and found her wearing a pink spandex bodysuit up on a ladder to what I assumed was an attic space, cussing up a storm.” Sonjia smiles as she recalls the story.

“I cleared my throat and she popped her head down, saying, ‘Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t know anyone was in here with me. Pardon my mouth, but there are some damn bees in my brand-new attic.’ She hopped down from the ladder and brushed off her hands on her bodysuit and then shook mine.

“I said, ‘You must be Jane,’ and she replied with, ‘And you must be insane to walk into an unopened bar.’ I explained to her how I had just met Seymour, and he sent me in telling me to meet her and have a beer. Jane continued to joke around with me, and I loved her feisty personality instantly. She was gorgeous.” Sonjia tears up slightly. “She still is.”

Sonjia sits quietly for a moment, thinking of her dear friend I’m sure, before clearing her throat and continuing. “Anyway, so Jane went behind the counter and poured me a beer from the tap and slid it towards me. I remember drinking it quite quickly due to the hot spring day.

“She asked me if I knew anything about bees. I didn’t, but I popped my head up the ladder anyway to look.

The hive was pretty small and was nestled between the brand-new wood beams. I don’t know what it was, if I liked Jane so much and I wanted to help her, or if I was buzzed off the one beer.

” Sonjia lets out a long laugh and her eyes sparkle as she says, “But I took the bees.”

“You took the bees?” Hunter asks, obviously shocked. My own laughter is heard from behind the camera. Picturing a slightly buzzed Sonjia taking a hive of bees home always cracks me up.

“I took the bees,” she reiterates. “I took some tongs from the bar kitchen and lowered the hive into an empty liquor box that Jane had just emptied.”

“You didn’t get stung?” Hunter questions.

“Oh, I got stung a lot.” Sonjia points to a small scar on her right arm.

“Proof of the incident.” She raises her eyebrows playfully.

“But it was worth it. Jane kept questioning me, asking if I was sure what I was doing, and I assured her that the bees would be happy at my property since we have so many trees.

“I told her goodbye quickly and left with the buzzing box.

I was halfway up the mountain in my car when I started to panic, having no idea what to actually do with them.

When I got home, I sat the box outside our cabin by a tree and immediately left again.

I decided that I needed to do some research at the library, so I headed there at once.

“When I finally came home five hours later, I was confident, feeling way better with the knowledge of how to care for the bees and a mission: I decided I was going to become a beekeeper.”

The video then shows us standing with Sonjia next to six white bee boxes, as she explains how she gets the honey. She looks at the bees with so much love and compassion, then tells us how she and Mr. Ray were unable to have children, so the bees have always been her babies to care for.

“When people started writing on the walls after the bar opened, Jane told me to go leave my mark, so I drew the cartoon bee with the little inside joke that only Jane and I would understand: I came for a beer and left with bees.” Sonjia's smile overtakes her face on the screen.

“The day we met, Jane gave me a purpose and a friendship I desperately needed. I owe it to the bar. If not for that place, our paths never would have crossed.”

Sonjia finishes talking. The clip of her sitting on the bench on her porch lingers for a few seconds and then goes black with a link to donate.

I sit still, overcome by what I just watched. “Wow,” I whisper to myself.

Suddenly, I feel Rick’s hand pat my back. “From what I heard, that was really great,” he tells me.

I meet his eyes. “Jane would have loved that.”

“No talking about her in past tense,” Rick tells me. “She’s still in there. Just give her time to recover from her cough.”

I nod in response. I will not admit to him that I’m losing hope. Jane has been heavily sedated for a week now, and her breathing has not been improving. I visited her once and it was exceedingly difficult to see her in that condition.

I feel relieved that Hunter didn't mention Tripp at all in the video. I don’t want to give any fuel to his hateful fire or give him a reason to try and shut our idea down.

I hear my phone chime and look down to a text from Hunter.

I’m nervous about what you will think, so please let me know as soon as you finish the video. I am sitting here in purgatory.

I laugh at the text and respond.

It’s perfect. Post it.

Hunter sends back a thumbs-up within seconds.

One hour later I get another text from him.

I uploaded the video 42 minutes ago. It currently has 99,000 views and people have donated to the bar fund! Over $2,000 already!! This is really going to work, Olive!!!

I smile at the message and his optimism, wanting to believe it, too.