The knock on the door was far too timid to be Dalton. Drucilla was lying on her bed, deep in thought. The knock was so soft, she thought she may have only imagined it. After all, who would have the audacity to knock on the queen’s bedroom door without being asked to do so?
The timid knock came again. Drucilla sat up. At first, she wanted to punish whoever it was that dared to disturb her rest. Then she thought better of it. That was something the old Drucilla would have done. The new Drucilla had no intention to punish anyone anymore. Without even knowing who was there, Drucilla was prepared to let her visitor come in and state his business.
Responding to the queen’s command, the door opened slowly and Helen’s face appeared in the room. “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she whispered. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
Drucilla wondered why this concern irritated her so much. “Well, you see that I’m just fine. If that’s all you want, you may leave again.”
Instead of leaving, Helen walked over and took a seat on the foot of the bed before Drucilla could stop her. The queen was so astounded that anyone would do such a thing, she couldn’t think of anything to say.
Helen sat on the bed studying her hands. The queen was torn between wanting to throw her out on her ear and screaming with curiosity. She sighed. “Helen, dear, I already said Frank could stay after the wedding and I meant it. You don’t have to ask again.”
Helen’s gaze shifted from her hands to the Queen. She spoke softly. “Yes, and we are very grateful. Dalton told us about the usual marriage customs among the bees. We had no idea it could be so different from other beings.”
“If that is clear, could you please tell me why you’re disturbing me in my own chamber?”
Helen looked down at her hands again. “There is something we need to tell you.”
Drucilla waited.
Helen was about to continue when Frank’s head appeared in the doorway. ” Can wa come um?”
Drucilla waved her feelers in irritation. “Oh, please do! Why would I want to be alone in my own chamber?”
Frank entered the chamber with the box Dalton had so hurriedly snatched from the queen earlier that day. Dalton followed him in.
“What’s in the box?” asked the queen. “I believe you already took it away from me once today.”
Frank came to the bed where Drucilla now sat as regally as of she were on her throne. He laid the box on her lap, looking uncertainly to Helen and Dalton who nodded their encouragement.
“A del- deli- deliga- . . .
“Deligation,” whispered Helen.
“A deligation of noh-qui-toh delivered dis packashe for ya.”
“Commander Crick was here?!” A myriad of emotions played on Drucilla’s face.
“Not Crick. Commander Lotti delivered this,” Helen explained.
“That’s her granddaughter. Crick was allowed to retire a few months ago, so she transfered the command of her entire army over to Lotti.” The queen grew thoughtful. “Smart move,” she murmured to herself. Then her volume increased again. “Why didn’t Commander Lotti delivered this to me herself?”
Now Dalton came forward. “She wanted to, but we were not sure – I was not sure – how you would react, so I told her it would be better if we brought it to you.”
Drucilla was about to give him an angry retort when she realized she may not even have let the mosquitos into her new beehive. Suddenly she felt ashamed of herself. So much had happened since the bees and the mosquitos had become enemies – no, not enemies – since their friendship had dissolved. No, that wasn’t quite right either. The queen suddenly felt an intense longing to see her friend.
“Dalton, take a delegation with you and invite the mosquitos to our new beehive. We will celebrate the opening together – after I apologize to the entire army, of course. Commander Crick should be here when the new beehive is dedicated.”
Dalton, Frank and Helen now stood quietly in a row at the foot of the Queen’s bed. No one looked at the Queen.
“Dalton, did you hear me?”
“Crick cannot come, your royal majesty.”
Drucilla thought she saw a tear fall from her son’s face. She hadn’t seen Dalton cry since he was a child. But there was only one reason why Crick would refuse to come if the queen invited her. She must be . . . Drucilla could not bear even to think the word.
“Open the box, Drucilla,” said Helen gently.
“Yeh, open da box,” Frank chimed in.
Dalton nodded, not able to speak yet.
Drucilla wasn’t sure anymore if she wanted to know what was inside. She opened it slowly and pulled out a large book made from tightly woven grass fibers in a style unique to the mosquitos. The title stood out on patches of varying color: Tales from the Beehive. Drucilla opened the book and stared at the first page.
–
The story is dedicated to Queen Drucilla, my first and best friend in the world, even if she didn’t always know it. This is the story of our lives together and apart – and of the little fly who brought us back together again.
Commander Crick
When Drucilla read the dedication, she knew without a doubt that Commander Crick was dead. Never again would she hear her rough, barking voice or glare at her imperiously in a theatrical moment. A moan escaped her before she could stop it. The wailing sound that followed grew to such a pitch and volume it shook the entire beehive. Such a desolate cry had never been heard among the insects before. The cry even reached the sensitive ears of Commander Lotti and her delegation just as they arrived home. In that moment, Lotti knew that Drucilla had loved her grandmother as much as her grandmother had loved the queen. In her heart, she was glad she’d given her the book.
Lotti wished she could go back and comfort her grandmother’s friend, but it was getting very late and she had a funeral to arrange.
