Marion sat on the back porch of the rental house sipping her first coffee of the day as a fluffy bumblebee worked its way methodically from flower to flower. As she watched, her mind drifted back to yesterday and her encounter with Alfie Thornberg.
There was something about him that made her heart race, and yet he also gave her a sense of peace. A peace that was shattered as the screen door creaked open behind her, and Charlie padded out in his dinosaur pajamas, his hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep.
Not that she minded her nephew shattering her peace. She loved these quiet moments, just the two of them.
Marion shifted to make room as he slid onto the seat next to her. “Good morning, sleepyhead. You’re up early.”
Charlie didn’t answer immediately, his attention captured by the bumblebee as it hovered momentarily before diving into another lavender blossom.
“The bees are busy,” he observed, voice rough from sleep.
“They have important work to do.” Marion took another sip of coffee.
They sat side by side for a while in companionable silence, watching the bee’s industrious movements. Marion stole a glance at her nephew’s profile. He appeared far more relaxed this morning, as though he had finally shed the tense wariness he’d developed over the last few months.
It was as if there had been a profound shift in Charlie.
Alfie.
The name drifted through her mind, warm and comforting. She couldn’t deny the impact he’d had on Charlie, drawing him out with talk of butterflies and plants, treating him with such gentle kindness.
“I’ve been thinking,” Charlie said suddenly, turning to look at her with an earnestness that tugged at her heart. “We should make a bug hotel.”
Marion blinked in surprise. “A bug hotel?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, enthusiasm building in his voice. “I looked it up online this morning. It’s like a special house where bugs can live safely. Because we all need somewhere safe, right?”
“We do,” she said, forcing herself to keep her emotions in check. “Where did you learn about bug hotels?”
“I searched for ‘how to help bugs in your garden’ after we got home yesterday,” Charlie explained. “There were lots of videos. Some people make them really fancy, with different sections for different kinds of bugs.”
Marion smiled, reaching out to rub his back. “I think that’s a project we can definitely tackle.”
“Really?” Charlie’s eyes lit up.
“Really,” she confirmed. “But first, breakfast and getting dressed. Bug architects need fuel and proper attire.”
Charlie groaned theatrically but was already on his feet, full of energy as he shook off the last of his sleepiness. “Can we start right after breakfast?”
“As soon as you’re dressed,” Marion promised.
With a whoop of excitement, Charlie darted back into the house, the screen door banging behind him.
Marion remained on the porch for a moment longer, savoring the dregs of her coffee and the sweet mountain air that filled her lungs.
She’d been so afraid when they’d first arrived in Bear Creek.
Afraid they wouldn’t fit in, afraid she wouldn’t be able to provide Charlie with what he needed, afraid the shadows of the past would follow them here.
But now she was filled with tentative hope. She’d found the courage to make this move, to start over. Maybe that had been the hardest part.
With a decisive nod, she drained the last of her coffee and went inside to make breakfast.
In the kitchen, she pulled out cereal and milk, setting them on the table before popping bread into the toaster.
Charlie reappeared, dressed in jeans and his favorite blue t-shirt, hair still unruly despite his apparent attempt to smooth it down.
“That was fast,” Marion observed, placing a bowl in front of him.
“I want to start on the bug hotel,” he explained, reaching for the cereal box. “I was thinking we could invite Alfie over to help. He knows a lot about bugs.”
Marion hesitated, the butter knife suspended over her toast. “I think we should do this one ourselves, buddy. We took up a lot of Alfie’s time yesterday.”
Charlie’s face fell, his spoon clattering against the side of his bowl. “But he likes bugs. And he said he wanted to see us again.”
“I know,” Marion said gently, sitting down across from him. “And we will see him on Wednesday at the vineyard, remember?”
Charlie nodded reluctantly, stirring his cereal without enthusiasm.
“I was thinking,” Marion continued, a new idea forming, “if we make the bug hotel ourselves, it could be a surprise for Alfie. To show him how serious we are about the bug garden.”
Charlie’s head snapped up, his expression brightening. “Like a thank-you present?”
“Exactly,” Marion smiled, relieved to see the spark return to his eyes. “We can show him on Wednesday when he picks us up.”
“That’s a good idea,” Charlie agreed, digging into his cereal with renewed vigor. “We could make it really special.”
As they ate, Charlie outlined his plans for the bug hotel.
The different sections they would need, the materials they could use, and the ideal placement to attract the most beneficial insects.
Marion listened, marveling at how much research he’d done in the short time since their visit to the garden center.
When they finished breakfast, Charlie bolted outside, eager to begin.
Marion cleared the table more slowly, washing the dishes and setting them on the rack to dry.
Through the kitchen window, she could see Charlie already scouting the yard, examining potential building materials with serious concentration.
She dried her hands on a dish towel and stepped outside, breathing deeply of the mountain air.
Moving to Bear Creek had been a risk. She’d uprooted them to start over in a place where they knew no one.
But standing here now, watching Charlie explore their small backyard with such enthusiasm, she knew it had been the right choice.
“I found some pine cones!” Charlie called, holding up his treasures. “And there are lots of twigs under the big tree.”
“Perfect,” Marion said, joining him. “I think there’s an old terracotta pot in the shed that would make a good base.”
They spent the morning gathering materials, a selection of hollow stems, dried leaves, strips of bark, and smooth stones. Charlie organized everything into piles, explaining which bugs would prefer which materials with a confidence that filled Marion with relief.
They had undoubtedly turned a corner, and much sooner than she had expected.
The old pot, once cleaned of cobwebs and dust, became the foundation of their creation. Layer by layer, they built the bug hotel, tucking materials into different sections with careful precision.
As they worked, the scent of lavender wafted over from the bush, triggering a cascade of memories. Marion remembered the small sachets she’d sewn years ago, filled with dried lavender to help Charlie sleep when nightmares plagued him.
“What are you thinking about?” Charlie asked, noticing her distraction.
“Just remembering,” Marion said, reaching for the lavender bush and snipping a few stems. “I used to make lavender sachets to help you sleep when you were smaller.”
“The little pillows that smelled nice?” Charlie’s brow furrowed with the effort of recollection.
“That’s right,” Marion nodded, twisting a piece of twine around the lavender stems to hang them for drying. “I thought I might make some again. Or maybe some handmade soaps.”
“With lavender?” Charlie asked, placing a pine cone carefully in the upper section of their bug hotel.
“Yes. And other flowers,” Marion said, the idea taking shape in her mind. “I might start making things to sell. There are plenty of farmer’s markets I could sell them at.”
“Like a business?” Charlie looked interested.
“A small one,” Marion clarified. “Something I could do from home, so I could still be here for you after school.”
Charlie nodded solemnly. “That would be good.”
They finished the bug hotel as the sun climbed higher in the sky and stood back to admire their creation. It was rustic but charming, with different sections carefully designed to attract various beneficial insects.
“It looks great,” Marion said, genuinely impressed. “I think Alfie will love it.”
“I hope so,” Charlie said, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. “What if he thinks it’s silly?”
“He won’t,” Marion assured him, resting her hand on his shoulder. “He’ll see how much thought and care you put into it.”
Charlie nodded, his confidence restored. “I’m going to check if any bugs have moved in yet,” he declared, dropping to his knees to examine their creation more closely.
Marion smiled and gathered the leftover lavender stems, taking them inside to hang in the kitchen window. But then the same worry Charlie had voiced hit her.
Was the idea of making scented soap silly? Was she wasting her time and effort when she should go and get a proper job?
She took a moment and took a breath. If necessary, she could do both. Get a job while building her soap business. It would be hard work, but worth it.
Once the lavender was secured, she went to the boxes that she hadn’t gotten around to unpacking and opened up the one labeled crafts. Inside were the molds she used to use, and various essential oils. Digging deeper, she found a bag of pure soy wax. Not a lot, but enough to get started.
She carried everything to the kitchen and set the items down on the counter. It had been a while since she’d made soap, but a quick online search would give her some recipes to follow, and maybe some tips on selling handmade soaps online.
Marion opened her laptop and typed “soy lavender soap recipes” into the search bar. But as the results loaded, a news headline in the sidebar caught her eye:
“Trial Date Set for Ralph ‘Razor’ Malone in Drug Case”
Her throat constricted, fingers hovering over the trackpad. She shouldn’t click on it. She knew she shouldn’t. They were building a new life here, away from all that.
But her finger moved of its own accord, opening the article.
The details were sparse but chilling. Razor had pleaded not guilty, despite the overwhelming evidence. The trial was set for next month. Heather was standing by him and had even made a statement about her confidence in his innocence.
Marion felt sick. After everything that had happened, after what Charlie had endured, Heather was still defending him.
The sound of footsteps made her jump, and she quickly closed the tab as Charlie appeared in the doorway.
“A spider already found our hotel!” he announced triumphantly. “A little one with really long legs.”
“That’s wonderful,” Marion said, forcing brightness into her voice as she turned away from the computer. “It must be an excellent design if bugs are moving in already.”
Charlie beamed with pride. “I can’t wait to show Alfie on Wednesday. Do you think he’ll be impressed that we did it all ourselves?”
“I think he’ll be very impressed,” Marion said, her heart filled with gratitude for this gentle man who had, in just one day, given Charlie something she’d been trying to provide for months—a sense of purpose, of being valued, of normal childhood enthusiasm and joy.
As Charlie chattered about the spider’s long legs and quick movements, Marion pushed thoughts of Razor and the upcoming trial from her mind. That was the past.
And this was their future. And it was going to be a good one.