Page 45 of Rough Stock

‘For what?’

‘Look and find out.’

‘There’ll be snakes under there. Is that why you brought me here? To do the heavy lifting because of your ribs.’

‘No.’

‘You could have just said,Izzy, can you roll up the tarp for me to take back into the shed.’

Exasperated, he tore off his hat and swiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘Listen, it’s the only wrapping paper I’ve got. Okay?’

‘Oh…’ She spun around to the tarp hiding a present.

It was too small to be a new car. Oddly shaped, it was big enough to be a treadmill, but not tall enough to be a stair-master, and way too big to be a hat. ‘What is it?’

‘Fine, I’ll show you, just to prove to you I can roll up my own damn tarps.’ Craig grumbled as he limped over, grabbed the edge of the weatherworn truck tarp and pulled it back to reveal a series of tall wooden boxes.

Not that she was ungrateful, but she was still clueless as to what it was. ‘Um… They’re boxes.’

Craig’s laugh echoed down the soft hills that rolled to meet the sinking sun. ‘You don’t know what they are?’

‘Well…’ She shrugged.

‘It’s a hive, Izzy.’

‘A beehive?’ She gasped, gripping her hands to her chest. ‘I love bees.’

‘I know.’

‘And honey, and honeycomb.’ She stepped in closer, all fear gone, to see a real live beehive. Only to pause. ‘Any bees?’

‘Not yet. This is the best place to keep them, they’ll be dry here in the wet, and they’re close enough to the weeping paperbarks you like.’

‘It’s a pretty view, too.’ No, it was freaking perfect. Just perfect. It was too perfect. Izzy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the enormity of what he’d done for her. She then peered back at the house, discovering it had a great view of the sunroom.

‘Yes, Izzy, I’ve put them here so you could watch them from the sunroom while you work.’

Her eyes started tearing up as her heart ka-thumped in her chest. ‘Not too close to the house?’

‘No. But close enough to pollinate your vegetable garden.’

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The way Dustfire shone under the late afternoon sun, and the house looking over it, with her vegetable garden started. It was a dream that couldn’t be real. Yet, even as she turned away, the view of her hives and the expansive countryside was so awe-inspiring that tears started to fall.

‘You can keep an eye on your bees while they get busy with the orchard and the first feed crops, I’m planting in that paddock.’ Craig pointed to the sloping field of long irrigation lines.

‘What happened to the last orchard?’

‘Died off. Not having water does that.’

‘Oh, right…’ Because they hadn’t stayed to make this place into the home they’d both dreamed about. Yet here it was. ‘Did you make these hives?’

‘Yeah…’ Craig’s smile was soft, as he patted the top of the pale timber hive, smelling of pine.

The three hives were made from a series of stacked boxes, with a small entrance hole and perfectly spaced slats inside, ready for bees to create honeycomb and fill it with delicious honey.

Some people obsessed about wine, Alistair was crazy about parmesan cheese, for Izzy it was always honey. It wasn’t about having a sweet tooth, not when she treated it like a sommelier would treat a fine wine. She could swirl a spoonful of honey to discover its origin just by the colour and aroma—the dark, molasses-thick ironbark honey with its smoky, caramelised bite, or the light, sunshine-gold clover honey, so delicate with its floral and vanilla notes. Her favourite was the velvety macadamia blossom honey, rich and buttery with a nutty, savoury complexity.

For Izzy, every jar of honey was a story of the land, the blossoms, and the bees that made it such a unique tasting experience, just like any vintage wine. And now she had a chance to capture the essence of the nectar from her favourite tree’s fluffy, cream bottlebrush clusters, all within her favourite part of the country, on their land they called Dustfire. It was truly breathtaking. Her heart couldn’t keep up.

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