Beyond the town of Oakwood Vale, the earth lay blanketed in fallen leaves – a thick, golden carpet.
It was honey harvest season. Nearly every family in Oakwood kept their own hives; some had dozens, others hundreds, each housing a teeming kingdom of bees. Day after day, the bees labored, darting in and out, carrying the nectar of countless blossoms back to their homes. There, they worked their alchemy, transforming it into honey – nature's most soothing sweetness.
Ben Carter, kitted out in his veiled hood and bee suit, stood amidst this buzzing multitude, a lone figure engaged in the delicate task of harvesting.
Meanwhile, his sister-in-law, Sarah Carter, prepared lunch in the farmhouse kitchen not far away. Ben had been raised by his brother, Jack, since childhood. Five years prior, Jack had joined the town's logging crew deep into the northern Pinewood Mountains. There, they were caught in a freak blizzard and devastating avalanche. Jack never returned.
For these five years, Ben and Sarah had clung to each other, guardians of their own "bee kingdom" – sixty-eight hives strong.
Sarah was acknowledged as Oakwood Vale's beauty. Tall and strong, with fine features, she possessed what locals called an "angel's smile."
Since Jack's disappearance, many men in town had set their sights on Sarah. Some offered clumsy attentions; others proposed outright, none more persistently than Mayor Wilson. He'd hinted more than once that if Sarah were "friendly" towards him, he could ensure the town council looked favorably on her interests, perhaps even easing her debts.
Though the apiary was a struggle, money was tight, and Sarah longed for an easier life, she had never yielded to this pressure. Living these five years alone with Ben, who had Down syndrome – his mind forever childlike and pure – Sarah had found herself nurturing a quiet, protective, and inexplicably tender affection for him.
Sarah set the simple lunch on the table and stepped onto the back porch. Cupping her hands, she called towards the hives: "Ben! Ben! Lunch is ready!"
"Coming, Sarah!" Hearing her call, Ben immediately shed his protective jacket and ran towards the farmhouse with childlike eagerness.
"Starving, aren't you, Ben? Go wash up at the pump, then come eat." Sarah's tone was gentle but firm as she noted the dirt and beeswax coating his hands. Her concern was plain.
"Okay, Sarah." Ben nodded obediently.
He walked to the old hand pump in the corner of the yard and scrubbed diligently at the grime. Water droplets sparkled in the sunlight. Shaking his hands dry, he followed Sarah into the warm, fragrant kitchen. Autumn sunlight streamed through the window, dappling the worn, polished surface of the wooden table.
Ben and Sarah sat facing each other across the old pine kitchen table.
The moment he sat down, Ben fixed his clear, guileless eyes intently on Sarah. Unconsciously, Sarah touched her cheek, feeling the skin grow warm beneath her fingertips.
Even after five years of constant companionship, being regarded with such unwavering, innocent directness could still stir a flutter of inexplicable shyness deep within her.
"Ben," Sarah said softly, a faint tremor in her voice, "what are you looking at?"
"Sarah looks beautiful," Ben declared, grinning widely. His statement was as simple and matter-of-fact as declaring an apple red.
The directness of his words sent a deeper flush spreading across Sarah's cheeks, like the flickering light from the hearth fire dancing on her skin. Flustered, she looked down, busying herself with straightening the tablecloth. A soft sigh escaped her lips. "Oh, Ben..."
After lunch, Sarah gathered the plates. "Ben, do Sarah a favor, will you? Go to my room and fetch the blue wool cardigan from the wardrobe. It's turning chilly for town this afternoon."
"Okay, Sarah!" Ben responded instantly, turning towards Sarah's bedroom.
Though they shared the roof, propriety demanded separation. To stifle the town's gossip, Sarah insisted Ben sleep in the small attic room. Her own bedroom remained a space he rarely entered.
Ben pushed open Sarah's door. A wave of familiar warmth enveloped him – the scent of lavender soap mingled with sun-dried linen and Sarah's own subtle, distinctive essence.
He encountered this fragrance daily, but here, in her private space, it was richer, more enveloping. Though his mind worked simply, this aroma wrapped him in a profound sense of comfort and safety, like the embrace of spring sunshine.
Ben approached the oak wardrobe and opened its doors. The soft blue cardigan hung in plain view.
As he reached for it, his gaze snagged on a thick volume tucked into the corner. Its leather cover was worn and faded to a deep ochre. Curiosity overcame him. He set the cardigan aside and carefully slid the heavy book from its place.
Fumbling, he opened the stiff pages. His rough fingers traced lines of dense, handwritten script, strange symbols, and intricate illustrations of plants. His eyes widened instantly, alight with the pure, unadulterated wonder of a child discovering treasure.
Ben grabbed the blue cardigan with his left hand and clutched the old book tightly in his right before leaving the room.
"Sarah, Sarah, your cardigan." Ben handed the sweater to Sarah, who was scrubbing the stovetop.
"Thank you, Ben," Sarah replied, taking it with a smile.
Instead of dashing off as usual, Ben dragged a low stool over, plopped down, and eagerly spread the old book open on his knees. He began turning the pages with intense concentration, his fingers moving clumsily over the unfamiliar text and drawings.
"Sarah," Ben looked up, pointing excitedly at an illustration depicting whorls of ivy intertwined with crescent moons and stars, his eyes shining with pure delight, "This book is *good*!"
Sarah froze, her hand still on the damp cloth. She recognized the book. Her heart gave a hard thump against her ribs.
This ancient tome was precious, a Carter family heirloom passed down through generations, according to Jack. It was said to contain herbal lore gathered by their ancestors deep in the woods, and... other things. Unexplainable old tales.
Jack had spoken of it vaguely. Sarah herself knew little of its true origins, only that Jack had treasured it, murmuring that it "held the forest's secrets."
"Ben!" Sarah's voice held a thread of tension she couldn't quite mask. She moved quickly towards him. "That book... it's very old. Don't damage it."
She kept her tone level, reaching to take it back. As she did, the scent trapped within its pages – old paper and something pungent, like dried herbs mixed with ancient dust – unfurled into the warm kitchen air, adding a layer of mystery and unease to the moment.