Free The Keeper by Suzanne Woods Fisher

life, situated in the center of the orchards. “Found just the right spot for them. There’s a water trough nearby, and they’ll get full sunlight in the morning. The sooner the hives warm up in the morning sun, the sooner they’ll get to work.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “What are you doing out here?”
    Her eyes went wide. Her mind reviewed several witty responses, but in the end she could only seem to spit out, “I . . . I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know?” Rome looked at her as if she might be somewhat addle brained.
    She took a deep breath. “I’d better go.” She ran down the long corridor of blossoming cherry trees that led to the barn, mortified.

    Although Julia considered herself a mild-tempered person, quick to make allowances and slow to anger, she felt indignation rise within her when she heard that her father had invited the Bee Man to stay for dinner.
    Earlier this morning, it had taken every ounce of grit and determination Julia could muster to try to act nonchalant when the Bee Man found her among the asparagus spears. The nerve of that man. How dare he act as if he was apologetic about Paul’s decision to postpone the wedding. Everything seemed to be progressing so nicely, right on schedule—and then along came Roman Troyer, with his buzzing bees and his silver tongue and that way he had of convincing a fellow that his life of freedom and independence was the best possible life. He may not have meant to instigate the breaking of her heart, but intention was irrelevant. Once a heart was broken, the words “I didn’t mean to” afforded little relief.
    And now she had to see Rome again for dinner, thanks to her father. Amos had a fondness for the wandering Bee Man, as did so many girls in their church. Julia had never understood what made people go to such great lengths to befriend Rome. Mothers washed and mended his clothing like he was a long-lost son. Fathers invited him home for dinners to meet their eligible daughters. Julia was always amused at how eagerly her friends gazed at Rome, making fools of themselves. Young boys followed him around and picked up his swagger, imitating the way he wore his hat slightly tilted over his forehead. Close to looking like a cowboy hat but not enough to draw the attention of the ministers.
    That was the way with Rome. He stayed safely within the Amish framework but lived a solitary life. And rather than raise controversy, folks tried to think of ways to please him, to entice him to stay. Julia saw that on the first day, six years ago, when Amos found Rome camped out at Blue Lake Pond.
    As Rome was with her in the garden this morning, she had tried to study him objectively. His was a handsome face, with its thin blade of a nose and strong cheekbones, and a wide mouth that held a certain wild charm. And his eyes—the color of a cup of Fern’s rich coffee. His hair was the same hue as a winter storm, and it curled a little over the back of his collar. But none of that mattered to Julia. What bothered her about Rome—what had always bothered her about him—was how he kept himself detached from others, uninvolved, unencumbered. Julia thought the only things Roman Troyer might truly love were his bees.
    Last summer, when Rome first influenced Paul to postpone the wedding, Julia’s feelings about Rome turned from mild disdain to downright dislike. To her way of thinking, Rome Troyer was a blight on the landscape, a pox on their district. And still, people welcomed him with open arms.
    Well, she was not going to let Roman Troyer get to her. Nor would she let him distract her from her objective—convincing Paul to keep the wedding date. She was sure that once she and Paul married, all of those silly doubts of his would disappear. She wasn’t quite sure how to make that happen, but one thing her father had always said, “First the vision, then the plan.”
    When Julia heard Fern clang the dinner bell that hung by the kitchen door, she