The Second Life of Abigail Walker by Frances O'Roark Dowell

we visited in the summers. But now my dad—” Anders paused, like he was embarrassed to continue. “Well, my dad worries about me getting thrown, or trampled. It’s stupid! I mean, I know how to ride a horse already, and I never got thrown off, not even when I was six! It makes Grandma really mad. She gets mad at my dad for worrying about everything. For being afraid of everything. He didn’t used to be, but now a lot of things scare him. Like if you accidentally drop a book on the floor? My dad jumps sky-high.”
    â€œMy mom’s a nervous person too,” Abby said. “Not like your dad or anything, but she’s always worried about people being unhappy or mad at each other. She’s always trying to smooth things over. She hates it when anybody yells. That makes her super nervous.”
    Anders nodded. “Matt doesn’t like yelling either. But the funny thing is, he yells all thetime. Mostly at night, in his dreams. But sometimes during the day, too. Stuff just gets to him more than it does other people.”
    Abby glanced toward the house. She wondered where Matt was. Was it okay to leave him alone? She sort of wanted to see him—was he really as handsome as she remembered?—but at the same time she didn’t. What if he came outside right now and started yelling at her and Anders? What if he had a gun? He’d been a soldier, so he might have a gun. Suddenly Abby shivered. What was she doing here? She might not even be safe.
    Abby looked at Anders. They wouldn’t let him live in the same house as Matt if Matt were dangerous, right?
    â€œSuck in your gut!” Mrs. Benton yelled, and Abby sucked in her gut before she realized that Mrs. Benton was yelling at her students, not her.
    â€œCome on,” Anders said, tugging on Abby’s arm. “I’ll show you where we have our pick-your-own patches. There’s a strawberry patch and blueberry bushes. In May, when the strawberries come in, we get about a hundred peoplea day. Oh, and I can show you the beehives, too. They’re way on the other end of the farm, away from the horses.”
    Beehives? Great , Abby thought as she followed Anders around the side of the barn. Something even scarier than horses. “So you guys keep bees?”
    â€œYeah, Grandma set up these hives a few years ago, and now it’s Matt’s big project, raising honeybees and selling their honey. He used to have hives when he was growing up.”
    â€œDon’t the bees make him nervous?” Abby asked. “Isn’t he scared of them?”
    â€œYou’d think he would be,” Anders agreed. “But bees don’t bother him at all. Most animals don’t, except for horses. He spends a lot of the day outside, if the weather’s good. And when he’s inside, he’s writing stuff down about animals.”
    Matt was pruning blueberry bushes when Abby and Anders reached the other side of the farm. “Hey, guys!” he called when he saw them, waving his pruning shears in their direction. “You didn’t happen to bring any water with you, did you?”
    â€œSorry!” Anders called out. “We’re dry. We came over to look at the hives.”
    Matt laid down his shears. “Great idea. I’ll come with you. I haven’t checked on my guys since Friday.”
    They walked into a brushy area that reminded Abby of the field across from her house, the weeds shedding their seeds, the leaves on the bushes turning scarlet.
    Anders pointed ahead. “The hives are just about fifty yards that way. We keep them back here so they can have a little privacy.”
    â€œAnd to protect them from the wind,” Matt explained. “They need some space, but they need protection from the elements, too.”
    Abby studied Matt from the corner of her eye. He looked better today, like he’d gotten a good night’s sleep since the last time she’d seen him. Still,