Obadiah

Fifteen

Obadiah walked down the path to his bees with a new settled lightness in his heart.

He was moving forward.

He was trying to learn and much to his surprise, it was paying off.

Yesterday, Guinevere was much too excited to give him difficult words as well as a short children's book to read as homework.

As he tried to read it before bed, his brain felt like it was exploding, but he tried.

If the cover didn't have a picture of a boy and a dog, he wouldn't have realized what it was about until the fourth hour of trying.

Still, he finished the book and he was proud of himself.

He'd find out this afternoon if he understood what it was about when Guinevere tested him.

Guinevere.

He sighed as he reached the busy hive.

"Good morning, my honeybees." He said gently, his mind still on Guinevere.

He placed the crate of mason jars beside the tree trunk and began funneling honey.

"Do you remember the woman and the children who came?" He asked the bees.

They only buzzed in response.

He should've felt strange for speaking to them about her, but he didn't. He felt safe sharing with his bees. He knew they wouldn't judge him or question him.

They would only listen.

"Her name is Guinevere and she's very kind, and so are her children," He confessed and twisted the top onto the jar.

"She's teaching me to read and write. It's been difficult, but she's helpful and she's even shared scriptures with me,"

A bee landed on his hand tickling it softly.

He loved his bees.

Their touch was the only one he could stomach.

"Beaumont told me she is a negro, he was mocking her. But he wanted her, the Hayworth boy too,"

He wasn't ignorant of what attraction was. He'd heard the hollering men at the saloon. He saw it in the way those men looked at Guinevere and he didn't like it. Not the way they looked.

"I'd never seen a white negro woman, but Guinevere would be the one. She's special. She's a wonderful teacher, and a natural mother, if you could've seen her yesterday,"

He'd never spoken this much about a topic.

It was weird, but it wasn't bad.

He liked talking about Guinevere.

"I like it when she smiles. Her eyes sparkle and she can turn tickled pink, Mrs. Hayworth told me that," He chuckled softly and looked up to the sky. "Lord, I don't know much about You, but I know You give some people something to smile about."  He looked away and shook his head as his mood began to falter. "I-i'd like to be one of those people one day. If You could consider me,"

He didn't have much to be glad about.

Last night, he had nightmares.

They were vivid and cruel.

Memories of his childhood.

When he woke, there were tears and heart palpitations. It wouldn't be a night without them.

But he prayed.

He prayed for God to help him not to think of the nightmare.

And he didn't, until now.