My late grandfather, the man who told me stories of buried treasures and promised me the world, had left me the greatest disappointment: an old and dusty apiary. Who leaves his grandson a bunch of insects? That was a slap in the face until the day I peeked out at the hives.
It was a normal morning. Aunt Daphne looked over her glasses at the mess on my bed. “Robyn, are you ready?”
advertisement
Keith Urban Pone Fin A Una Entrevista Por La Pregunta Sobre Las «Escenas De Amor» De Nicole Kidman
“I’m sending a message to Chloe,” I explained, hiding the phone.
“It’s almost time for the bus! Get ready!” said Aunt Daphne, putting books in my backpack.
I saw the time. 7:58 a.m. “Ugh, okay,” I sighed, getting out of bed.
He handed me a shirt, ironed and ready. “This is not what your grandfather expected for you, you know? He thought you would be strong, independent. And those hives he left? They’re not going to take care of themselves.”
Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Getty Images
Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Getty Images
I remembered the times with grandpa, honey, bees. But now, my mind was on the next school dance and on my crush, Scott.
“I’ll check them, maybe tomorrow,” I said, fixing my hair.
“Tomorrow never comes for you. Grandpa believed in you, Robyn. I wanted you to take care of the apiary,” he insisted.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I said sharply. “I have better things to do than take care of Grandpa’s bees!”
I saw that Aunt Daphne’s face was falling and that her eyes filled with tears. But the school bus horned just at that moment and I ran out, ignoring his sad expression.
On the bus, my thoughts were focused on Scott, not on the apiary he had inherited from Grandpa Archie. “Who wants an apiary?” I thought, annoyed by the responsibility.
Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels
Image for illustrative purposely | Photo: Pexels
But the next day, Aunt Daphne brought up the subject again. He scolded me for neglecting tasks and spending too much time on the phone.
“You’re punished, young lady!” he said suddenly, and that’s when I finally looked up from the phone.
“Punisted? Why?” I protested.
“For evading responsibilities,” he replied, mentioning the neglected apiary.
“The apiary? That useless bee farm?” I sneered.
Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels
Image for illustrative purposes | Photo: Pexels
“It’s about responsibility, Robyn. It’s what Grandpa wanted from you,” said Aunt Daphne, her voice tense with emotion.
“Tint Daphne,” I protested, “I’m afraid of being stung!”
“You will wear protective equipment,” she replied. “A little fear is normal, but you can’t let it stop you.”
Relantly, I went to the apiary. As I approached the hive, I felt fear and curiosity at the same time. I put on some thick gloves, opened the hive and began to collect honey, with a throbbing heart.
Suddenly, a bee stung my glove. I was about to give up, but a wave of determination invaded me. I had to finish this. She had to prove to Aunt Daphne that she was not the reckless and irresponsible 14-year-old girl she thought she was.
While collecting the honey, I discovered a plastic bag worn by the weather inside the hive that contained a faded map with strange marks. It looked like a treasure map left by Grandpa Archie.
