If Not For A Bee
If Not For A Bee
Carol Ross
You can't always play it safe With four sons dependent on her, Janie Everett needs to keep her life uncomplicated. Now famous scientist Aidan Hollings is disrupting her orderly world, starting with the rescue of a…bumblebee.Aidan is only passing through her Alaska wilderness town, and wasn't planning to bond with her two older boys. Or become so attracted to the widowed journalist. His globe-trotting days may be be over if he's able to show Janie that they can share the adventure of a lifetime—together.
You can’t always play it safe
With four sons dependent on her, Janie Everett needs to keep her life uncomplicated. Now famous scientist Aidan Hollings is disrupting her orderly world, starting with the rescue of a...bumblebee.
Aidan is only passing through her Alaska wilderness town, and wasn’t planning to bond with her two older boys. Or become so attracted to the widowed journalist. His globe-trotting days may be be over if he’s able to show Janie that they can share the adventure of a lifetime—together.
“I like you, Janie.”
“You... What?”
Aidan took her by the shoulders and leaned his head toward hers. One hand traveled up and slipped around the back of her neck. He paused for a few tension-filled seconds and she wondered if he was giving her an opportunity to back away. Yet there was no possible way that was happening. She inched closer so that they were chest to chest. She reached up and grasped the collar of his rumpled shirt.
When his lips covered hers, Janie knew she was in serious trouble, even as it occurred to her that this shouldn’t be happening for so many reasons. She was too...simple...in direct opposition to her life, which was too complicated. But then again, he wasn’t the man for her, either. He was too complicated while his life was too...simple. And yet it felt so...right.
Dear Reader (#ulink_57303321-8cbf-5ecb-b842-6732c1f53823),
After reading Mountains Apart, the first book in my Seasons of Alaska series, my oldest sister, Shelly, called me up to tell me how much she loved the book (sisters have to do this—it’s a sister requirement). After gushing appropriately and making her little sister feel awesome and talented and loved (also required), she asked me when Janie (the hero’s sister) was going to get her own story.
“Janie is a grieving widow,” she told me in a particularly heartfelt tone, “all alone and raising four children and suffering from postpartum depression. She needs to find someone—she deserves to find love!”
As a mother herself, I love how Shelly connected with Janie. Since then I’ve had more people “suggest” that I give Janie her own love story. I’m so thrilled to be doing just that.
Janie first meets Aidan Hollings in Mountains Apart, but it’s a brief encounter and she is in no condition to notice, much less appreciate, the brainy, seemingly self-absorbed scientist. Their first (second) meeting in If Not for a Bee does in fact involve a bee; although it doesn’t exactly set them off on the right foot, either. But the title reveals so much about this story because indeed, if not for a bee, these two would never have that first encounter that leads to many more... Literally, if not for a bee, they’d never get their happy ending.
And they do eventually (I’m talking to you here, Shelly). I promise!
All my best,
Carol
CarolRossAuthor.com (http://www.carolrossauthor.com)
If Not for a Bee
Carol Ross
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROL ROSS lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. She is a graduate of Washington State University. When not writing, or thinking about writing, she enjoys reading, running, hiking, skiing, traveling and making plans for the next adventure to subject her sometimes reluctant but always fun-loving family to.
For my favorite moms—Granny, Shelly and the two Tammys. Thanks so much for your seemingly endless supply of love and support. I’m truly the luckiest daughter, sister and stepmom in the world.
Contents
Cover (#u9d1e2680-1682-5a95-b0d3-cb20bdfcb3ac)
Back Cover Text (#u9d1e2680-1682-5a95-b0d3-cb20bdfcb3ac)
Introduction (#u36f4e41d-2dc9-59e2-8e5d-0a1e2e7a9199)
Dear Reader (#uf0d6c7a8-48b4-5210-96c1-1ebd385957eb)
Title Page (#u0b3de343-2906-5cb3-95e6-95d0d3e4fbb4)
About the Author (#u25c84fec-566d-5066-9097-4648163131f5)
Dedication (#u0e1f38e6-5cd9-5aab-b0a9-94f33c645789)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue5774bfe-5aa4-54c6-aab3-068bebccf238)
CHAPTER TWO (#u8b39e5ae-23e3-5d4c-a898-f5ca47b51e46)
CHAPTER THREE (#u32f217ea-7bfe-5532-b07b-08358ed0992f)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u1bfd7b42-94c0-51e4-846c-747f97f3c8e3)
CHAPTER FIVE (#uc959e831-50a4-5bda-8369-6d11dab14ea9)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_758352f0-e504-5875-95ce-a8e4cb7b2e8d)
“HOLD STILL. I’LL kill it.”
“Wait...”
“Don’t move.”
“Mom, Mom, Mo-o-om...” Gareth stared with wide-eyed terror at the box he held clutched in his hands. Janie could tell he was on the verge of losing it and she knew the precious cargo inside was the only thing keeping him from succumbing to the panic.
“Honey, please relax. I will get it.” Janie reached into her bag for some kind of weapon. “Do you want me to take the box?”
“No, Mom, I’ve got the box. Just get it...hurry.”
“Gareth, please don’t drop the box.”
“I’m trying not to,” he squeaked.
“I know, honey. And I’ll get it.” She began rolling the newspaper she’d retrieved from her bag.
The door to the bakery jingled as Lilah stepped out. “Janie, is everything okay?”
The monster crawled closer toward Gareth’s hand. He let out a whimper and Janie felt her own pulse of fear.
“We’re fine, Lilah. Or we will be soon—a bee landed on the cake box but I’m going to take care of it.”
“Take care of it?” a deep voice said from somewhere over her left shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, “that Mr. Bee is about to go to the great honeypot in the sky.”
“But that’s a bumblebee.”
“Yes, and this is a newspaper.” Janie raised the makeshift swatter a little higher. Her hand came down in a lightning-fast swipe, but something nudged her elbow at the last instant.
She missed.
The bee flew up toward Gareth’s face. He let out a scream. The box went flying. Lilah grabbed for the container—almost had it—but the waxy cardboard slipped from her hands. Janie winced as the box crashed to the ground.
“Oh, no!” Lilah exclaimed.
“Mom,” Gareth cried. “I’m so sorry.” Janie looked down at her thirteen-year-old son crouched on the ground, his eyes glued to the box now oozing yellow mush from its seams. Tears glittered on his thick black lashes.
“Sweetie, it’s okay.”
She turned and glared at the perpetrator, who had caused this unmitigated disaster. “What is the matter with you? Why did you do that?”
“Oops,” the man said. His crooked grin matched his feeble explanation. Sun-streaked blond hair curled around his ears—he looked like a surfer who’d spent too much time chilling on the beach. And he was wearing shorts? It was spring, yes. But springtime in Alaska didn’t exactly call for shorts. The temperature was a not-exactly balmy fifty-one degrees.
“I’ll buy you another one.”
“That would be perfect,” Janie said coldly, letting plenty of sarcasm seep into her tone. “Why don’t you go do that right now?”
“Okay, great,” he said enthusiastically. He looked at Lilah. “You work here, right?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Lilah twisted her fingers together nervously, her eyes darting from Janie to the doofus surfer and back again.
“Janie, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault, Lilah.” Janie looked back down at Gareth, her chest squeezing so tightly she could barely breathe. His eyes were still trained on the mess of cake and pudding and chocolate. She could only imagine what he was thinking. His eyes met hers and it was all she could do not to cry at the stricken expression on his face.
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I ruined it. I ruin everything.”
“Gareth—”
“Hey, I think we might be overreacting here, huh?” Beach Bum pulled his wallet out of one of the numerous pockets decorating his cargo shorts. “Is it your birthday, sport? I’ll buy you any kind of cake you want.”
Sport? Who calls a thirteen-year-old sport? Janie looked at him again—really looked this time—and noticed a pair of laughter-filled gray-blue eyes set in a tanned face, a perfect match to his boy-band hair. Tourists, she thought with disgust, were a blessing and a curse. She loved her brother, Bering, and sister-in-law, Emily, for enticing them here, but sometimes she wished out-of-towners would stay away. Today, obviously, was one of those days.
She wanted to tell him to go away and let her clean up the mess he’d made, although she had no idea how she was going to do that... Poor Gareth. And Reagan would be disappointed, too.
“I’d really like to replace the cake. But that bee didn’t deserve—”
“Thanks, but no, I’ve got this.”
“No, really I can—”
Janie felt her scalp begin to tingle with anger. She needed him gone, but apparently he needed some encouragement in that direction. She lifted a hand and interrupted. “No, thank you. You have done more than enough—really.”
But he still didn’t move. Just stood there, watching, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
She wasn’t normally one to lose her temper, but he’d completely ruined their day—this day. This already difficult, excruciatingly painful day... What were they going to do now? How would they get through it without Boston cream pie?
“Why is it impossible to get another cake?” he asked Lilah.
“Oh, um, because it’s a special-order dessert.”
“Can’t you special-make another one?”
“No,” Lilah said with a sad shake of her head.
“Why not?” He asked with that same lighthearted tone.
“I don’t have any more—”
Janie turned toward him. “Look, I don’t want to be rude but I feel like you’re kind of forcing me to be, so will you please just go away? You can’t fix this.”
“But I want to and I think—”
“I think you missed your turn a few thousand miles ago—the beach you’re looking for is south of here. Take a right at Canada and keep driving until you see a sign that says California. Now go... Skedaddle.” She shooed him with a hand and then stooped to put her arm around Gareth.
“Skedaddle?” His eyes widened as he raised his hands in a defensive gesture. But his lips were twitching like they were all taking part in some big funny practical joke. “Maybe we all need to chill out a little, huh? I was only trying to save the bumblebee.”
“What?” she snapped. He did not just tell her to chill out...
“The bee,” he repeated.
Something dawned on Janie. Bees... Shhh-oot, she thought. Today was Thursday... She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. Could this day possibly get any worse? She stood, nudging Gareth to his feet along with her.
She studied the man now and wished with all of her might that this wasn’t happening. She didn’t know why she still made wishes because she knew very well they didn’t come true. But why couldn’t she have recognized him sooner?
She sighed and decided to get this over with. “Aidan, right? Dr. Aidan Hollings?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, his brows scooting upward with surprise. His eyes narrowed as they traveled over her. “Do I know you?”
“Sort of.” She attempted a smile. She imagined it looked more like a grimace and really didn’t care. “We’ve met. About two years ago. Your sister is married to my brother. I’m Janie Everett—Bering James’s sister?”
* * *
BERING’S SISTER? AIDAN HOLLINGS stared at the woman and absolutely for the life of him could not reconcile his memory of the hausfrau he’d met two years ago with this attractive yet prickly, helicopter mom standing in front of him. This wasn’t Janie. Janie was plain and boring and...quiet. He wanted to laugh out loud, and probably would have if he wasn’t so shocked. The hair color seemed right, though—that shade of deep red was rather unforgettable...and maybe the only characteristic about her that he could clearly recall.
“Hey,” he said, getting his brain back on track. “Janie, how have you been?”
“Better,” she answered tightly.
“What?”
“I’ve been better.” Her tone was dismissive as she flicked her eyes away.
She addressed the baker. “Lilah, I’m so sorry about the mess.”
Lilah smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about it, Janie. I’ll have Isaac clean it up. That’s what we hired him for.”
Janie checked the watch on her wrist. “We need to go. Thanks so much, Lilah. The cake was beautiful.”
Gareth looked at Lilah. “I’m sorry about the cake, too.”
Lilah reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay, hon. I’m sorry, too, for you.”
Janie glanced in Aidan’s general direction but didn’t even try for eye contact. “Bye, I’m sure we’ll see you around, Aidan.”
Aidan thought these people were getting awfully worked up over a dessert. He watched Janie and her forlorn son trudge down the street like they were headed to a funeral...
Odd.
Lilah turned and grasped the door handle.
“Hey, um, Lilah, right?”
She spun back around and scowled at him. “Yes.”
“Why can’t you make another dessert?” he asked again.
“Because Reagan is lactose intolerant so I made that one with soy milk. Besides, it’s too late. I could never have another one done in time.” She looked near tears as she turned away and ducked back inside the bakery.
Aidan shivered lightly as a cool breeze swirled around his legs. He stood on the street wishing he would have packed some pants in his carry-on bag and wondering if he’d somehow landed on another planet instead of the remote little town of Rankins, Alaska.
* * *
JANIE DID HER best to salvage the evening. She and Gareth swung by the grocery store and picked up a package of festively decorated, dairy-free cupcakes. At least her two-year-old twins would be happy. Gabe had this adorable habit of carefully picking off sprinkles with his tiny fingers one at a time. She mentioned this to Gareth and joked about the mess they would make with the frosting. Her attempts to cheer her oldest son fell disappointingly flat.
Janie let the silence fill the car as she drove them home. She knew she should say something—offer words of wisdom and comfort. She was a mother—weren’t these things supposed to come to her effortlessly? In natural, normal-type moments they seemed to, but she felt completely inept when it came to this... Probably because there wasn’t anything natural about your husband and the father of your two boys getting killed in the prime of his life while you were pregnant with two more.
A snap of the fingers and she’d gone from a happily married mother of two with twins on the way to a devastated, grief-stricken widow and single mother of four. And then, as if Cal’s death hadn’t stolen virtually every bit of her joy, a difficult pregnancy had leeched away what little remained. She’d ended up bedridden with preeclampsia, the twins had been born premature, and she’d immediately sunk into that cruel pit of despair known as postpartum depression. She could barely think about that nightmarish time without being overwhelmed with guilt or growing cold with the fear that those feelings might somehow return...
She pulled into the driveway of their home—the home she and Cal had so lovingly built the year after they were married. They’d been so excited to purchase the property a mere half mile from her mom’s. They’d poured countless hours into constructing the modest Arts-and-Crafts-style house, doing most of the work themselves—with help from family and friends—all the while making plans to fill it with the family they wanted to have. Well, they’d managed to get a good start on the family part before Cal had died. Now it was a struggle to keep up with the care and maintenance the three-bedroom home and the five acres of ground required. She wouldn’t be able to do it at all if it wasn’t for the help of her family.
She turned toward Gareth to say...something—she knew she needed to say something. But he was already climbing out of the car. Her mom met them at the door. Janie didn’t know how she’d survive without her mother—how any of them would survive. Grandma Claire had watched the younger boys while she and Gareth went to town to run a few errands, which included picking up the now-trashed dessert for the birthday celebration her oldest son insisted they have for his deceased father.
Janie wanted to cry.
“Hey,” Claire said. “Where’s the birthday cake?”
“It’s ruined,” Gareth said. “I ruined it. I dropped it, Grandma.”
“Gareth, you didn’t ruin it.” No, the bee patrol ruined it, she wanted to say, as she allowed her anger over the incident to overrule the despair. “It was an accident.” She looked at her mom. “There was a bee—”
Claire’s face turned white as her eyes darted from Janie to her grandson. “You didn’t get stung, did you?” She smiled—or tried to. “Of course you didn’t—you wouldn’t be here if you’d been stung. You’d be at the hospital.”
Reagan walked into the kitchen, where they were now gathered. “Hey, where’s the cake?” he asked.
“We didn’t get it,” Gareth said.
“What? Why?”
Janie answered, “There was an accident.”
“What kind of accident? A car accident? Are you guys okay?”
“No, Reagan, honey—an accident where the cake got ruined.”
“Oh.” His face fell, displaying his disappointment. “How are we going to celebrate now?”
“I think under the circumstances your dad would understand. We picked up some cupcakes. We’ll use those. Come on—let’s go sit at the table.”
Claire offered, “I’ll bring in the cupcakes if you want to round up the little guys.”
Finn toddled into the kitchen and let out a happy squeal at the sight of his mother. Janie scooped him up and kissed his velvety soft cheek. The thought flitted through her brain that at least the twins had been spared having to grieve for their father. They’d never known him. She immediately felt guilty—her signature emotion these days, it seemed. Of course it was better that Gareth and Reagan had known Cal for at least those precious early years. He’d been an excellent father, but it had just been so incredibly difficult to watch them suffer after his death—to watch them suffer still.
She secured the twins in their high chairs and took a seat. Claire walked into the room with the cupcakes neatly arranged on a platter. Brightly colored candles poked out of the frosting-covered peak of each cupcake. At least they looked pretty, which was something because Janie was certain the prepackaged, dairy-free treats would taste like cardboard slathered with sugar-infused shortening.
Claire handed Gareth some matches. He began lighting the candles.
Gabe pointed and chirped, “Cup-cup.”
Finn slapped his high-chair tray and laughed with delight as if his brother had told a hilarious joke. At two years of age, they already shared some kind of secret twin language.
“Mom, how many birthdays did you and Dad celebrate with Boston cream pie?” Reagan asked.
“Twelve,” Janie said and heard her voice crack. She tried to cover the sound with a cough. “I made your dad his first one while we were still in high school.”
Gareth turned his head and glanced out the window.
Her mom began singing the birthday song and she, Gareth and Reagan joined in. The twins shouted out their own joyous version of gibberish.
Reagan and Gareth blew out the candles as the twins blew raspberries and clapped with happy, reckless abandon. Gareth placed the cupcakes on small dessert plates and Claire added a generous dollop of “rice cream” next to Reagan’s and then dished up ice cream for the rest of them. Janie set a plate before each of the twins.
Janie and Gareth shared a smile as Finn immediately picked off a single sprinkle and examined it before delicately placing the candy bit on his tongue.
Janie swallowed her tears. She needed to be strong—she had to be strong for the boys. Three years had passed since Cal had been killed and she felt like she’d recovered as much as she possibly could, but the boys...
At times she thought they were doing well, for the most part—except maybe Gareth. He had these rituals—this birthday party for his father being one. He’d devised a ritual of some sort for virtually every holiday. The counselor had told her repeatedly that sometimes the grieving process could take a while. “You can’t rush it,” she said. “Don’t try too hard,” she advised. Gareth needed to somehow reach that elusive step of acceptance on his own. Janie wished there was some way of gauging how close he was because sometimes she had the feeling he might be sliding backward...
* * *
AFTER THE BAKERY FIASCO, Aidan strolled down the street trying to get a feel for the town that, as of today, he would be calling his home base for a while. His baggage had been left in Anchorage, but was supposed to be arriving on a small charter flight in a of couple hours and he didn’t see the sense in calling his sister, Emily, to pick him up until the luggage arrived.
Aidan’s purpose in accepting this position as head of the state of Alaska’s native-bee-population study was multifaceted. He’d earned his doctorate in botany and had spent the bulk of his career traveling the world studying endangered plant species. As such, he had a particular interest in bees and other pollinators.
He’d spent most of his adult life living in tropical locations and enjoyed the adventures, but lately he’d begun to crave a break from the heat. So when the opportunity to spend the spring and summer in Alaska arose, the change of climate had been enticing.
Aidan worked for various environmental foundations, nature preservation organizations and sometimes corporations or even governments of foreign nations. And for the last several years he and his colleague Blake Tryce had spent every spare moment on a film project highlighting the plight of endangered plant species. After attempting and failing to secure funding, he and Blake had financed the project and persevered. Seeds was finally finished. And while their goal in making the film was to inform and educate, Seeds had recently become the talk of the scientific community—and beyond.
Blake was ecstatic, Aidan not so much. He was grateful, on one hand, to be successful in spreading their message, but he’d never been thrilled with what came along with his pseudo fame. As a successful, renowned scientist he was continually turning down event invitations, public-speaking engagements and interviews as it was. The few he accepted, he chose very carefully. The added interest from Seeds had increased this kind of attention exponentially.
One particularly bad experience a couple years ago had left him especially wary and...beleaguered. He was in no hurry to make the same mistake twice. He needed a break and Alaska felt like the place to take it.
Not only did Emily now call Rankins home, but three months ago she and her husband, Bering, had also welcomed the first addition to their family—a baby girl they’d named Violet. Aidan couldn’t wait to meet his new niece.
Hmm, he thought, he and Janie shared a niece. This family connection could conceivably be a little uncomfortable, especially when he already knew from Emily how close the James family was—the entire extended family. Unfortunate, running into each other under those circumstances...
Aidan kept walking partially to keep warm but also because the quaint town intrigued him. Rankins was small, but not too small. Comparatively, his field work as a botanist meant camping in the rain forest for weeks on end with nothing but a couple of tents and maybe another scientist or two for hundreds of miles in any one direction. Those conditions had a way of changing one’s view of “civilization.” To Aidan, Rankins seemed to have the right amount of everything, including a decided lack of one thing he tried to avoid—people.
Food seemed plentiful, too, he realized happily as his nose alerted him to the fact that someone was serving up a hot meal. He hadn’t eaten since very early that morning, when he’d changed planes at LAX.
Ah...the idea of being able to get food whenever he wanted—and not something freeze-dried that became edible only when doused with water. Living in remote locations like he normally did, he couldn’t always be choosy about meals, but it sure made him appreciate a good one.
He opened the door to the Cozy Caribou and stood for a few seconds enjoying the delicious aromas assaulting his senses—bacon? Yes. And the yeasty smell of fresh baked bread...
Emily had told him about this place, had mentioned that she thought he would like it. She was right; he hadn’t even sat down yet and he liked the cozy feel of the restaurant already—the smells, the sounds, the friendly faces. All of the faces in Rankins had been friendly so far. Well, except for Janie’s, and her son’s, and Lilah the forlorn baker’s.
Aidan found an empty booth and decided it was a good omen that he’d already seen his first bee, even if he’d angered his...? What was she? His sister-in-law? No, but she was Emily’s sister-in-law. He thought about the episode again for a moment. He couldn’t think of a better way that he could have handled the situation. He hadn’t had time to talk her out of it—she’d already made up her mind to go for the kill, but he couldn’t very well let her run around town murdering the very creatures he was committed to saving.
* * *
LATE THAT SAME evening Gareth stared into the darkness, waiting for the sound of his little brother’s sleep. Reagan didn’t know it, but he snored—softly. Not enough to keep Gareth awake but enough for him to know when Reagan was asleep and when he was faking.
So annoying that he had to share a room with his little brother at all. His friend Abe didn’t have to share with anyone and he had a room easily three times the size of Gareth and Reagan’s. Abe had a TV, too, and three different game systems.
Abe also had a dad. Gareth would trade all of that and more to have his dad again...
There it was—the snore. Gareth waited a few more minutes to be sure and then slipped out of bed. That was one nice thing about sharing with Reagan—once he was out, he was out.
He retrieved the flashlight he kept under his bed, directly below the secret stash spot that he’d made in the box springs. It was the perfect hiding place because even when his mom went on one of her cleaning rampages she couldn’t see the spot. And when Reagan looked for one of his stupid darts or a Lego guy he couldn’t see it, either. Gareth was proud of how well hidden it was.
He crept to the doorway, and paused to listen. He hadn’t turned the flashlight on. He didn’t need the light yet. His mom’s room was right across from theirs and she always left her door cracked open so she could hear if one of them needed her. She was great that way. It seemed like if he or one of his brothers even twitched in their sleep, Mom would be there in less than a second. Reagan had had terrible nightmares after their dad got killed and bam—Mom would somehow know as soon as he started to whimper. Sometimes she would be there before Gareth even woke up. This was cool, but it also meant that he had to engage superstealth mode when he got up for these midnight raids.
He passed the twins’ room and grinned a little. His baby brothers were so cute. Gareth wasn’t sure it was normal to love his little brothers like he did, but he was grateful to them for existing because they had seemed to be the only thing that would get their mom out of bed there for a while. Maybe he should feel bad about that, like hate them instead because he hadn’t been able to get her up himself. But he didn’t. He had been sad after their dad died, too. He’d understood. It had been hard for him to get up sometimes.
He felt safe once he reached the room—the den. He wondered why it was called a den, because to him a den was where animals slept. But nobody ever slept in there—not anymore. His dad used to fall asleep watching football sometimes, but he’d never stayed there all night.
But the den was where Mom kept the stuff—her stash. But she didn’t hide it very well. Gareth had first found it a couple months after his dad died. He didn’t know what he’d been looking for when he’d found it. He hadn’t meant to snoop—not really. He’d just felt so alone—felt that way still—without his dad. He and his dad had been a unit, a team—“simpatico,” his Uncle Bering had called it. Gareth had looked up that word and it totally fit him and his dad.
Uncle Bering was cool, too. Uncle Bering had been what had gotten him out of bed after his dad died, but now he had a baby of his own and things were changing...
He froze for a second when he heard a sound. He exhaled a whoosh of breath as Crosby strolled into the room and let out one of his half meows. Gareth called it a half meow because Crosby opened his mouth really wide but only about half the sound you expected to hear would come out. The giant black-and-white cat had taken to “helping” Gareth in his quests. When he’d first started doing this he’d been afraid the sound of Crosby’s purr would wake his mom, but it didn’t. It didn’t even wake their dog, MacGyver, although he really wasn’t much of a watchdog anyway. But MacGyver slept with Mom and that was good because Gareth felt that the dog would be at least adequate in alarming him if anyone ever broke in and got to Mom’s room. Gareth thought about that kind of stuff because as the man of the house he had to be prepared for anything.
He stroked Crosby’s soft fur for a moment. Then he took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the cabinet, still without using the flashlight because he’d gotten good enough at this that he only needed the light when he got to the stuff...
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d38f4ec5-cd6b-5eaa-9e6c-5de303579872)
“WHY DID HE hit your arm again?”
“I guess he was saving the stupid bee,” Janie told her friend and boss Laurel the next morning as she settled in behind her desk at the Rankins Press.
Janie felt herself getting worked up all over again. “I swear if Gareth would have been stung...”
Laurel winced. “Did you tell him Gareth is allergic?”
Janie shook her head. “No, I asked him to go away, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s not at all what you’d expect a brother of Emily’s to be like.”
Laurel sat at her desk, clacking away on the keyboard of her computer. “Wait—I thought you’ve met him?”
“I have—on the cruise two years ago, when Bering went to propose to Emily. I barely remember it, though. I remember thinking he looked a lot like Emily. Then I went to take a fourteen-hour nap in my cabin...” She trailed off with a helpless shrug.
Laurel glanced up long enough to give her a sympathetic smile. Everyone in Janie’s life remembered the dark days of her grief and postpartum.
“Oh, my gosh, you’re not going to believe this...” Laurel’s ability to talk, type and listen at the same time constantly astounded Janie and the other employees who worked for her at the Rankins Press.
Janie had begun working at the newspaper part-time about six years ago, when Gareth and Reagan were both in school all day. After Cal died, Laurel had hired her full-time. She’d done about every job at the paper, and now wrote local and human interest stories, and contributed articles to the newspaper’s regular feature, Insider’s Alaska. Nearly a year ago, she’d started writing her own weekly column—Domestic Endeavors.
“I don’t know,” Janie said skeptically. “There’s not much I wouldn’t believe at this point the way my life is going and I—”
Laurel let out a happy yelp. “Sorry—hold that thought. We got them. We got all of them—the tourism articles. This is fantastic... They accepted the entire proposal.” Laurel beamed a smile in her direction. “Janie, guess what this means? I need to call Emily. She’s going to freak.”
Finally, Janie thought, a bit of good news. Laurel had already told Janie she would be contributing to the series of articles about Alaska if the proposal Laurel and Emily submitted to the tourism website was accepted. North America Live was one of the most popular tourism websites in the entire world and they would now be posting three articles from the Rankins Press about Alaska.
“She is,” Janie agreed with a smile. She found herself getting caught up in Laurel’s excitement. She was happy for her friend. This newspaper was Laurel’s life. The regular column Laurel had started several years ago, Insider’s Alaska, showcased unique and interesting aspects about their state. The column had been receiving an increasing amount of attention in the last few years, so nobody would be surprised.
“I’ll sit down with Emily as soon as we can and plan the series. I’ll let you know what you’ll be working on. Isn’t this exciting? Global exposure, Janie—for the paper and for Rankins...”
Laurel held the phone up to her ear. “Em, hey! It’s me—amazing news...”
* * *
“AIDAN, PLEASE. I DISCUSSED this with Laurel this morning and she’s thrilled with the idea.”
Aidan had spent the day catching up with Emily, visiting with Bering and getting to know his baby niece, Violet. Now he stared at his sister and thought, poor Bering. His brother-in-law didn’t stand a chance against Emily’s charm, not to mention those gray-blue eyes of hers that glowed with such utter sincerity. Add this to Emily’s background, when she’d been a corporate executive for Cam-Field Oil & Mineral, and the result equaled unprecedented skills of persuasion. Aidan figured he could very possibly be the only person in the world who had the power to resist being suckered in by her.
“Nope. Won’t do it.”
“What? Why?
“Emily, you know why—I hate reporters.”
“Oh, Aidan.” She waved a hand dismissively through the air. “That’s a silly thing to say. It’s like when people say they hate the dentist. They don’t really hate the dentist—they don’t like having the work done.”
He eyed her skeptically from where he sat relaxing against the cushy softness of Emily’s new sofa, his beautiful niece dozing peacefully in his arms. “Yeah, I don’t really get the connection...”
“I mean it’s not personal.”
His distrust of reporters was in fact both professional and personal, but Emily didn’t know about the personal part. He’d never told her about Meredith. Emily knew he didn’t enjoy being in the spotlight, she knew he’d had a negative experience but she didn’t know the entire story. And she’d probably written off much of his hesitancy to his inherent lack of people skills. Of course, Aidan understood the point she was now attempting to make, but he would not cave no matter the circumstances.
“Emily, I came up here in part to avoid this kind of thing. I just want some peace. This bee study is supposed to be sort of a sabbatical for me.”
Emily nodded slowly, her face a picture of sympathy and understanding. But Aidan knew his sister well. It wasn’t in her nature to easily give in. He braced himself for another pitch.
“I understand that, Aidan. I do. And I’m so thrilled that you chose here to get away from it all and, and...rejuvenate, or whatever it is that you’re calling this. But these articles are going to be such an incredible coup for Rankins. All I’m asking is that you let us do an article about you. If we could include you in this series? Imagine—a world-renowned scientist, the cocreator of Seeds, working right here in Rankins. Do you know what kind of attention that would bring us?”
“No.”
“Aidan!”
“I mean yes, I do. But I’m not doing it.”
“I know Laurel will agree to let you have total veto power before the article is published.”
“There is no article. Emily, I love you. I am so happy for you—that you’ve found your niche here in Alaska. I never thought the corporate-executive thing was really you anyway. And I’m absolutely thrilled you found a great guy and I could not possibly love this tiny niece of mine any more than I do.” Aidan kissed the top of Violet’s fuzzy head. She was cuddled against his chest, her perfect baby cheek lying on his shoulder. He’d had such an incredibly long day of travel from Costa Rica the day before he’d like to tip his head back and join her—if only Emily would drop this ridiculous plea.
Emily dipped her chin, clearly gearing up for another angle. “But—”
“No interviews, Emily. No exceptions.”
“Aidan, I’ve heard you say so many times that ‘the media is a necessary evil’ in your quest to save endangered plant species.” She added air quotes but Aidan didn’t think he’d ever actually made that statement, although he had alluded to the concept.
He carefully lifted a shoulder, so as not to disturb Violet. “There are plenty of people picking up the slack for me in that area right now. I’m not interested in contributing to the collective rhetoric at this point in time.”
“Okay, how about this... What if Bering’s sister, Janie, writes the article? She works for Laurel at the Rankins Press. You know Janie—you would trust her, right?”
Aidan felt a twinge of discomfort as he thought about his encounter with Janie the day before. He hadn’t mentioned the meeting to either Emily or Bering and he didn’t really know why exactly. For some reason the encounter had left him feeling unsettled—like he’d somehow made a huge blunder. But he hadn’t...had he? He didn’t think so, yet he kept doubting himself.
Janie had been angry, the baker clearly distraught and Janie’s son—who seemed way too old for that kind of reaction—had nearly cried over a cake. Something felt...off about the encounter. Too much drama. And Aidan didn’t want any drama in his life right now. Who was he kidding? He never wanted drama. And for the immediate future he just wanted to study Alaska’s native bees in peace and spend some time with his sister and her family.
“No, I don’t know her, Em. I realize she’s your sister-in-law, but I don’t know her. Is she even qualified? Does she have a journalism degree?”
“Well, no... But she has experience—she’s learned hands-on from Laurel at the newspaper. Trust me—that’s better than any education that money could buy. Laurel has a master’s degree in journalism from Columbia and took over the newspaper right out of college. And Janie is one of those people who is good at everything.”
“Really?” he retorted skeptically. “Everything?”
“Yes, really.”
“She’s a good reporter?”
“What does that mean?” Emily countered.
Aidan thought. “I don’t know. She’s so...mommy-ish.”
Emily scowled. “Yeah, well, she’s exceptional at that, too, Aidan. And I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply? I’m a mom, too, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Violet let out a little cry as if to emphasize her mommy’s point. Aidan shifted her from one shoulder to the other.
“Settle down—you’re going to upset my niece.” He smiled and lightly patted Violet’s back. “I’m not implying anything really... Simply making an observation. She seems very...maternal.”
“A silly one—why would being a mom preclude her from being a good reporter?”
Aidan sighed. “I didn’t say it would, Em. You just don’t...”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I don’t what?’
Aidan let out a sigh. “I don’t think you realize how excruciating this would be for me—that’s all. And you have been much more than a mom in your life, Emily. You and I—we have life experience. Janie has lived here in Rankins her entire life, right? I mean what can she really know about the world?”
* * *
JANIE WASN’T EAVESDROPPING on purpose. She’d knocked softly on the back door like she always did in case Violet was sleeping. No one had answered so she’d let herself in, immediately heard voices, headed for the sound and almost walked right into the middle of the conversation. She’d had every intention of making herself known until she’d realized they were talking about her. And as the meaning of the words gradually coalesced in her brain, she’d stood frozen in shock. Eventually, she’d managed to turn around and quietly exit the way she’d come in.
If she didn’t have to pick up Gareth and Reagan she would simply get back into her car and drive off. But Bering had picked up the boys after school, which meant they could be anywhere within a ten-mile radius around here.
Uneducated? Fine, so she didn’t have a journalism degree. But qualified? Yes! She did have years of experience working for Laurel at the Rankins Press. What did he have? The answer immediately popped into her head—a doctorate degree, a lifetime spent traveling the world, articles published in prestigious scientific journals, television appearances and an important, soon-to-be-released documentary film... Fine, so he was more educated and accomplished, but that didn’t give him the right to mock and belittle her in that way.
And mommy-ish? What...?
Janie looked down at her khakis, pink button-down shirt, sensible “comfort” shoes. She reached up and smoothed her hands over the loosely twisted bun situated above the nape of her neck. Her fingers skimmed over the dainty white pearls in her ears...
Well, crap.
She’d obviously made quite an impression on him the day before. A niggle of insecurity crept over her...
She quickly squelched the feeling. Indignant, that’s how she should feel, she decided. So she was a mom, so what? Yes, it was a big part of her identity. But she loved being a mom, and raising four children didn’t exclude her from being a qualified journalist. And Emily was right, Laurel would never entrust her with an assignment if she didn’t think she could handle it.
She grinned as she thought about Emily’s defense of her. If she didn’t already adore her sister-in-law she certainly would now. But how could such a judgmental, condescending attitude belong to any brother of Emily’s?
Janie lightly tapped a fisted hand to her chin and tried to decide what to do. She didn’t like confrontation, yet she wasn’t afraid of standing up for what she thought was right. And her fighting side was urging her to march back into the house and confront him. To tell Dr. Hollings and his overeducated opinion exactly which cliff he could jump off of...
Suddenly she heard voices coming from the direction of one of Bering’s outbuildings. She turned and saw her brother and her two oldest sons waving at her. She lifted a hand in greeting and began walking their way.
“Hey, guys,” she said, trying to dampen her anger while infusing some enthusiasm into her tone. “Did you have fun?”
Her brother owned a successful local business—James Guide and Outfitter Service—that offered guide trips for fishing, hunting, wildlife and glacier viewings. People traveled from all over the country, even the world, for Bering’s excursions. Gareth and Reagan loved to spend time with their uncle while he was working—and when he wasn’t.
“Mom, we went out to the cabin and through the window we spotted a bear with two tiny cubs,” Gareth told her. “So cute.”
“A bear already?”
“Yep, first cubs of the year,” Bering said with a wide, cheerful smile.
Viewing wildlife never seemed to get old to Bering.
“That’s great,” she returned. “Spring is definitely in the air.”
“Mom,” Reagan said, “Tag is flying to Anchorage tomorrow and I need a few more things for my science project. I can’t wait for you to see it.” He fished a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. He’d made a list.
“I can’t wait, either.” And knowing her eleven-year-old genius like she did, she would undoubtedly be blown away by his efforts. Reagan had been working on the project for months, but hadn’t yet let her see his progress. He’d commandeered a corner of the garage and kept a tarp over the area when he wasn’t working on it.
“What are you guys up to now?”
“Unloading firewood.” Bering tipped his head toward the pickup, where most of the wood had already been tossed into a large haphazard pile ready to be split and stacked. “The boys helped me get a load while we were out.” He looked at his nephews. “You guys can call it a day. I sure appreciate your hard work, though.”
“No problem, Uncle Bering,” Gareth said proudly.
Reagan asked, “Mom, is it okay if we go down to the river?”
“Sure.”
She and Bering watched the boys head toward the river that bordered Bering’s vast property. Bering removed his baseball hat, ran a hand through his dark brown hair and then rearranged the cap back on his head. “Aidan is in the house with Emily and Violet. Have you seen them yet?”
“No, but Gareth and I ran into Aidan yesterday.” She hadn’t actually seen him just now—only heard his insensitive comments.
“You did?”
“Yep, in town. I didn’t recognize him at first, and we didn’t really have time to visit.” She vaguely related the occurrence, not wanting to rehash the finer details of the event.
“Oh...” Bering looked confused. “Aidan didn’t mention that he’d seen you guys.”
“Yeah, well—it was pretty brief.” Not surprising that Aidan hadn’t thought their encounter significant enough to mention, Janie thought, considering what she’d heard. That pretty much sealed her belief in her level of importance on Dr. Hollings’s scale.
“Do you like him?” Janie asked. She desperately, and yes, selfishly, wanted her brother to say no.
Bering rubbed his chin. “I don’t really know him very well, either. I mean—I haven’t seen him since the cruise and I was pretty single-minded then. All I really cared to see was Emily.”
Janie chuckled. “We were quite a pair, weren’t we? You lovesick and me...grief-sick.”
Bering grinned. “He seems like a good guy, though. Emily is crazy about him, so that means I want to be, too. We’ve talked on the phone here and there, used Skype a bit, but I’m looking forward to spending some time with him to get to know him better. He’s already crazy about Violet—of course.” Bering paused to widen his grin and then gestured toward the house. “Come on, let’s go in and say hi.”
“Sure,” Janie said quickly, “but why don’t I help you with this wood for a few minutes first? Get a jump on that pile.”
Janie knew Bering would never pass up her help and she wasn’t ready to face Aidan when she was still so angry and...deflated. Touching, she thought cynically, how Dr. Hollings was so intent on saving bees yet had no qualms about killing a person’s self-esteem. She felt a fresh spike of anger. Bering handed her a pair of gloves. She slipped them on as she walked over and picked up an ax, now counting on the physical exertion to calm her ire.
Chopping wood always helped ease her anxieties, like some primitive form of therapy. Although, it probably wasn’t all that healthy from a psychological point of view to imagine what she began to imagine about Aidan as she gripped the ax, and began chopping the thick circles of wood into wedges small enough to fit into the woodstove.
* * *
“SOUNDS LIKE BERING’S chopping wood,” Emily said a while later as she and Aidan stepped out the back door. “Come on, we’ll go say hi.”
As they walked toward one of the outbuildings, Emily pointed here and there and recited what Aidan was sure were some very interesting facts about their property, Bering’s business and Alaska in general. But he’d quit listening because he was mesmerized by the sight that had suddenly materialized before his eyes. Bering and a...woman? Who was skillfully chopping wood like some kind of tiny, female Paul Bunyan. Suddenly she stopped and lowered her ax, apparently to laugh at something Bering said. She grabbed ahold of his arm and doubled over. The throaty sound carried all the way over to him and he wondered why Emily wasn’t scratching this woman’s eyes out for pawing at her husband.
“Oh, good.” Emily smiled in their direction. “Janie’s here.”
Janie? Aidan felt a stab of surprise as they drew closer and he realized that it was indeed the woman he’d encountered the day before. She looked so...different—lively, vibrant and...happy.
But as they approached something shifted in her eyes, like a curtain being drawn or a sheet draped over a surprise. Aidan knew he was likely the cause and he almost cringed at the awkward moment about to unfold. Not that he was a stranger to awkward moments, but for some reason he particularly dreaded this one.
“Aidan, Janie, you guys remember each other, right?”
“Of course,” Janie said. “I was just telling Bering about how we ran in to each other in town yesterday.”
“You did?” Emily shot a baffled look in Aidan’s direction. “Aidan, you didn’t mention that you saw Janie?”
“Yeah, um...” he said, feeling tongue-tied. “It wasn’t...”
“Gareth and I were in a huge hurry,” Janie explained smoothly. “We didn’t really have time to chat.”
With quick little tugging movements, Janie removed the gloves she was wearing and smoothed the delicate-looking fingertips of one hand across her brow. Aidan stared at those same hands that had only moments ago been grasping an ax and chopping wood like an experienced logger. His eyes traveled over her as he searched for words to explain...
Emily commented on the pile of wood growing against the side of the barn. She and Bering began to discuss how much wood they’d need for the coming winter. The banal exchange slowly drew him back to reality. Winter seemed to provide an unlimited source for conversation around here he’d noticed. Some people he’d met at the Cozy Caribou yesterday had been talking about their winter preparations, too, which he found funny because it was only just spring. He commented on it jokingly.
Janie stared back at him, stone-faced.
Bering grinned.
Emily frowned. “You can’t believe how cold it is here in the winter, Aidan. It looks like heaven now, but I can guarantee this is a cold like you’ve never felt before. I almost froze to death the first winter I arrived.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard those fluffy little snowflakes can be downright deadly,” he quipped.
Janie’s face twisted with something that looked like disgust, reminding him of the woman he’d encountered the day before.
Emily plopped her hands on her hips, and when she spoke her tone was teasing, but Aidan felt the passion she had acquired for this remote locale that was now her home. “Laugh it up now, buddy, but you would probably last about thirty seconds in one of our snowstorms before hypothermia set in.”
Janie did laugh at that, before tossing Aidan a determined look. “Yep, it’s all about survival of the fittest up here. You’d be surprised at how many transplants we get from the lower forty-eight who come here in the summertime thinking they’ve found paradise, and then winter sets in. Only the hardiest manage to last until the spring thaw.”
The way her eyes flicked over him had Aidan suddenly feeling the need to defend himself, and to prove he was tough enough for this charming little hole-in-the-wilderness even when it was iced over. Tough people lived in warm climates, too, he wanted to say, but for some reason he felt the need to provide proof.
His brain ran through a quick catalogue of his adventures, trying to settle on the most dramatic example to recount; he had endured a near-deadly snakebite in the Brazilian rain forest, an infected baboon bite in Borneo and a scorpion sting in Africa. He’d been nibbled on by fish even scarier than piranhas in the Amazon, suffered a torturous jellyfish sting off the coast of Queensland and had so many vicious insect bites he’d lost count. He’d experienced heat so intense it had melted the rubber soles of his sandals to his feet. He’d battled malaria, giardia, gangrene and dengue fever. Any one of those things had to be worse than a harmless drift of snow...
“I need to get back to the house,” Emily said, before he could decide upon which harrowing ordeal to smoothly weave into the conversation. She tipped the portable monitoring device she held in her hand. “Our baby girl is beginning to stir.”
“I’ll go with you,” Bering said. “I need to make a couple of phone calls.”
The pair walked away hand in hand, and just like that Aidan was left alone with Janie. Not a situation he would have chosen for himself, he thought, as the air seemed to thicken with a fog of silent unease.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_52943ed0-e594-5c28-a7e8-967f6a31ebbf)
AIDAN RACKED HIS brain for something to say. Janie remained silent, slowly spinning the handle of the ax around in her hands; her expression appeared to be one of disdain mixed with a bit of the same discomfort he was feeling. Maybe he should mention their run-in the day before? Get that out of the way and try to clear the air between them.
“So...about yesterday?”
She stared blankly. “What about it?”
“Um, I hope everything turned out okay for you and your son.” Aidan didn’t feel compelled to apologize because he felt certain that he’d done the right thing. A lot of people were woefully uninformed about the importance of bees in this world, and he was more than happy to educate them.
“Everything?”
“Your cake... I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I was just saving the bee. Bees are really—”
“Well, the cake was ruined. But we really don’t need to talk about it, okay? And I think I have a pretty good idea how you feel about your bees. Besides, I couldn’t possibly expect you to understand—” Janie squeezed her eyes shut and dipped her head down. She inhaled deeply and then slowly released the breath, like his mom did when she was practicing yoga.
“What couldn’t I understand?”
She met his look, her green eyes flat and unreadable. “My life. Can we just drop it? I really don’t want to discuss it. Everything is fine.”
Good. She clearly didn’t want him asking, and quite honestly he didn’t want to know.
“You’re pretty handy with an ax, huh?”
“Yes, well, Emily is right about our winters. Chopping wood is something that most people do around here.”
He glanced at the pile of wood in front of them. Plants he could intelligently discuss, and seemed safe territory.
“What kind of wood is this—do you know?”
* * *
UNBELIEVABLE, JANIE THOUGHT. Apparently it wasn’t enough for him to ruin their day yesterday and not even bother to apologize, and then insult her behind her back today, now he felt the need to insult her in person, too? Did she know? Did he think she needed a botany degree to identify the type of trees she’d been chopping for firewood virtually her entire life?
“Birch.”
“Hmm.” Aidan reached down and picked up a chunk. He ran a hand over the fresh-cut surface. “Why birch?”
“What do you mean ‘why birch’?” Janie’s tone held a sharp edge and she didn’t care. “It’s not endangered, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Aidan let out a surprised chuckle. “Oh, I know that. I’m wondering about the properties that make it suitable for burning.”
She shrugged and informed him confidently, “It’s plentiful here, easy to split and when it’s properly seasoned it has a very high energy content—somewhere in the range of twenty-three MBtus per chord. It’s very efficient.”
He didn’t bother to mask the surprise on his face. Apparently, the fact that a simpleminded small-town mommy like he’d implied her to be had recited an intelligent fact had left him stunned. She was suddenly grateful for the project that Reagan had done earlier in the year, where he’d studied Alaska’s trees and the properties of their wood. She had to admit that her son’s genius often came in handy, even though it nearly as often left her bewildered.
Aidan smiled at her, a slow, wide smile, and his eyes danced with what looked like appreciation—completely the opposite of what she’d expect after hearing his harsh words earlier.
“That’s amazing.”
He was obviously talking about the piece of firewood he held in his hands, but his eyes were fastened on hers. They reminded her of that intense, swirling gray of the sky right before a snowstorm—beautiful and a little unsettling. His mouth was tugging up at the corners like he was fighting a grin.
“What is?” An odd sensation crept over her, along with a warm churning in the pit of her stomach. The combination was something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Not since... Wait...what? Unacceptable—she was too old to be affected by the charms of some overgrown beach bum. So what if he was nice-looking? That didn’t impress her. She’d been caught off guard that’s all—surprised that he was being so nice to her after the way he’d talked about her earlier. This kind of hypocrisy was only proof, she reminded herself, of his character—or lack thereof.
“Incredible...”
Her thoughts exactly...
His eyes skimmed over her face and seemed to settle on something in the vicinity of her mouth. Why was he doing that? Did she have something really embarrassing going on there? Something in her teeth? Or dried ketchup from the Tater Tots she’d shared with the twins when she’d run home for lunch earlier today? One hand shot upward and smoothed over her mouth. She tried to wipe at it as unobtrusively as she could. He kept staring...
“What?” she finally snapped.
“Oh, sorry.” He shook his head. “I was thinking about how, uh... Wood is used for so many different purposes throughout the world.”
“Huh?” she said, not quite sure how wood could be a source for such amazed speculation.
“It’s incredible how wood is such a truly renewable resource, don’t you think? There are hardwoods—ironwoods they’re called actually—that I’ve seen that are so solid you virtually can’t cut them without a power saw. Did you know there are some woods so dense they won’t even float?”
“Yeah, well, birch floats and you can cut it and chop it. Here—” She raised her arm, offering him the ax.
“What?” He stared down at it like she was handing him a dirty diaper.
“Chop a piece. You can see for yourself.”
“Oh, uh,” he said, palms up as if in surrender. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I, um, I don’t think... I mean I don’t—”
She flashed him a frosty smile. Apparently wood chopping didn’t count as “life experience.” “I see. Well, chopping wood is a very useful skill here in Rankins, where, you might be shocked to learn, there’s not a huge call for bug doctors.” She punctuated her statement by pivoting around and chopping cleanly through a large round chunk.
“Plants,” he corrected her lightly. “I’m actually a botanist not an entomologist. I have an interest in entomology because of bees and other pollinators, but my doctorate is in botany.”
She shrugged. “Whatever—bugs, plants, if you can’t burn it or eat it, I’m not really all that interested.” She put one foot up on the massive circular piece of spruce she’d been using as a chopping block.
Aidan stared back at her for a long silent moment, his eyes drifting again to the ax in her hands. His expression looked almost wary—like he was afraid she might turn it on him next. What in the world was he thinking?
Why did she care what he thought? She didn’t...but something dawned on her as she followed his gaze.
She fought the grin tugging at her lips. “You don’t know how to chop wood, do you?”
“Uh, guilty,” he said with a shrug and a sheepish smile. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the occasion to, which seems strange somehow considering my profession.”
“Boy, all those degrees of yours are really going to come in handy up here, aren’t they?”
Aidan cocked his head, like he might finally be processing her contempt. “Yes, I believe they will,” he answered slowly. “For the work I’ve signed on for here in Alaska I’m confident that a doctorate is sufficient. I don’t have much experience with the flora of this geographical location or even this climate, it’s true, but I also don’t expect Alaskan plant life to be nearly as diverse and complex as it is in the tropics. I won’t go into the details because it’s very complicated, but I can tell you...”
Janie stared at him as he rambled on and wondered if he had any idea how condescending he sounded. She held up a hand, palm forward, to interrupt him. “That’s not necessary. I’m sure it would be excruciating for you.”
“What?” His face twisted with genuine confusion.
Yep, genius all right. Apparently, he’d already forgotten the word he’d used to describe his feelings about doing an interview with her.
She decided to remind him. “Look, Dr. Hollings—”
“Aidan,” he corrected her with an easy smile.
“Whatever. Listen—”
“Mo-o-om. Mom!” She heard shouts and turned to see Gareth and Reagan jogging in their direction, which was probably best, she thought, because her patience with Aidan Hollings was wearing thin. But this experience with him had been a good lesson, really...enlightening. Because aside from his attempt to put his best foot forward, she had a very good idea about who he really was and what he was all about. And one thing was for certain—even if he had agreed, there was no way in the world she would do that interview.
Yep, fate had done her a favor. It was about time, too. She felt like she deserved a favor...
Her boys politely introduced themselves, calling him Dr. Hollings and making her very proud. He asked the boys to call him Aidan, and Reagan immediately began firing off questions about a variety of sciencey topics. Reagan had been so excited to meet a real scientist and Janie had been looking forward to it on his behalf, had thought it would be good for Reagan to see what life could hold for him someday. Of course, that was before she’d actually met this man. Janie silently prayed that Aidan Hollings wouldn’t be unkind to her brilliant but quirky son. Reagan had been blessed with an aptitude for facts and learning, but somehow this seemed to have left him lacking in social skills.
Gareth was well mannered, but predictably standoffish. Her oldest was always slow to warm up to new people and she felt sure yesterday’s debacle wasn’t going to help any. He had to be feeling a combination of embarrassment and resentment. She did—and she was a grown-up.
Janie felt a sense of relief as she watched Aidan and Reagan chatting like they’d known each other for years. Reagan was like that—always more comfortable with adults than with kids his own age, especially smart adults.
She wondered what her oldest son was thinking. Gareth looked ready to bolt and Janie felt torn between taking him with her to the house and not wanting to leave Reagan on his own. Bering and Emily took the decision out of her hands as they came out the door and walked in their direction, Emily cradling Violet in her arms.
Aidan smiled and tried to pull Gareth into the conversation but he responded with a series of short, though civil, replies. Then he subtly blew him off by looking toward his Uncle Bering and striking up a conversation about wolves—one of Bering’s favorite topics.
* * *
GARETH WISHED HE was bigger. He watched the man who had ruined their dad’s birthday and thought that if he was as big as his dad or his Uncle Bering he could punch the guy out, or somehow keep him from hypnotizing his little brother.
Reagan seriously seemed hypnotized. He’d been so excited to meet Aunt Emily’s scientist brother—a “real” scientist. Gareth had to admit he’d been kind of excited, too—at first, before he’d actually met him. Before he’d ruined the Boston cream pie and Dad’s birthday had been totally trashed.
Now he was listening to Aidan tell Reagan something boring and stupid about arctic bumblebees. Gareth hated bees. He’d been stung twice in his life and had almost died the second time. He could still remember that terrifying feeling as his throat closed in, slowly choking off his air supply until he could no longer breathe... Then the world had gone black. Luckily his cousin Tag had been there at the picnic that day to cut a hole in his neck and save his life.
Or maybe not...
Because if Tag hadn’t been there Gareth might be with his dad in heaven right now. If there was a heaven—he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Reagan’s comment drew him back into the moment. “It seems like it would be too cold for a bee out on the tundra.”
“Well, one of the exceptional things about bumblebees is that they can regulate their internal body temperature—”
“Thermoregulation,” Reagan interrupted excitedly. “I’ve read about that.”
“That’s exactly right.” Aidan sounded impressed. “That fuzzy coat helps, too, and they also shiver their flight muscles.”
Gareth quit listening again. Aidan was clearly impressed with Reagan—everyone was impressed with Reagan...adults anyway. Not so much some of the kids at school. Even Gareth was impressed by his brother, though he didn’t understand him sometimes, and he drove him crazy a lot. But he did love his brother, despite the fact that the workings of Reagan’s brain were sometimes a complete mystery to Gareth.
He’d tried to explain to Reagan what had happened with Aidan and the cake but Reagan didn’t get it. Instead, he’d seemed to relate to Aidan’s reasoning, telling Gareth all about what important pollinators bumblebees are. Reagan was like literally a genius but he could also be completely clueless about certain things, which meant that the responsibility of taking care of the family fell entirely on him.
Gareth wished he could be better at it. He wished his dad was still alive to help him and tell him what to do. But that was dumb because if his dad was still alive he wouldn’t have to constantly try to figure out what to do...
* * *
JANIE TURNED TOWARD the house as she heard the sound of a car traveling up the long driveway.
Bering looked, too. “It’s Tag.”
A vehicle came into sight and she recognized her cousin Tag’s midnight blue one-ton pickup. He parked and hopped out, holding a basketball in his hands.
Tag smiled and tossed the ball into the air. “Hey, who wants to shoot some hoops?”
Janie grinned. That was a no-brainer where her boys were concerned, especially Gareth.
They gathered on the concrete pad Bering had poured solely for the purpose of playing basketball. They briefly discussed how to divide the teams.
“I’m warning you guys,” Emily called from where she now sat in a lawn chair off to one side of the homemade regulation-sized half-court. Violet rested peacefully in her arms. “Aidan is really good.”
Janie tried not to roll her eyes; she was highly skeptical of Emily’s assertion. She loved her sister-in-law dearly but athletics weren’t exactly Emily’s forte. Bering was a good basketball player. Tag was exceptional—he’d been all-state two years in a row as well as MVP his senior year. His sister, Shay—Janie’s cousin and best friend—was also an amazing player. Janie was no slouch herself. Janie doubted Aidan could hold a candle to any of them.
They finally agreed on Janie, Tag and Reagan versus Bering, Aidan and Gareth. But after only a short time Janie begrudgingly admitted to herself that Aidan did seem pretty comfortable with a basketball in his hands. The game was shaping up to be a good one. She passed the ball to Tag and he tossed it up from way outside, sinking another three-point shot as Reagan hooted with glee.
Aidan passed the ball to Bering and he answered with a jumper of his own. Gareth threw a fist in the air. She smiled; this game seemed to be exactly what Gareth needed to snap him out of the funk he’d been in for the last few days.
The score was now tied, so Janie put her head back in the game. She moved toward Aidan to guard him. He dribbled the ball behind his back, switching from one hand to the other. She scoffed at his showboating, and reached out to swat the ball.
He laughed as he dribbled the ball backward between his legs and out of her reach. Next, he pulled some kind of Harlem Globetrotters move, bringing the ball up and spinning it on one finger. He quickly shifted it to the other hand and somehow passed the ball to Gareth while it was still spinning.
Janie found herself gawking.
Reagan shouted, “Awesome,” Tag belted out a laugh, Bering whistled and even Gareth cracked a smile.
“You’ve been holding out on us, Hollings,” Tag remarked.
“Nah, just scoping out my competition.”
Gareth took an outside shot, which fell short.
The game continued and Gareth missed three more baskets. Janie could see his frustration building. He was a very composed kid, good at hiding his feelings, so she felt confident that she was the only one who could see it. But he was always so hard on himself.
Janie took the ball out for her team. Aidan intercepted her pass to Tag. She quickly got into position to guard him. He dribbled the ball and moved like he was going to shoot. Janie jumped to block his shot, the ball went flying and Aidan let out a yelp.
“Foul!” Aidan yelled.
“What?” she cried. “I didn’t even touch you.”
“I saw it, Mom. You fouled him.”
“Yeah, own up to it at least,” Aidan teased.
She gaped at her son. “Reagan—we’re on the same team.”
“I know, but you hit him right here.” Reagan pointed at his own arm.
Aidan rubbed his elbow and winced with exaggeration. “It’s probably going to bruise.”
Emily called from the sidelines. “Aidan, did you do something sneaky to draw that foul? He does that, Janie—you can’t trust him.”
Bering and Tag laughed. Gareth nearly smiled.
They’d been doing free throws on obvious fouls—often called or corroborated by Emily—to give Gareth and Reagan some extra practice. Now Aidan stepped up to the free-throw line. He bounced the ball a couple of times. The first shot went through the net with a quiet swish. He winked at Janie, an amused grin playing at his lips.
She ignored him. He motioned to Gareth and they walked toward one another. Aidan bent and whispered something in his ear. Gareth nodded, and then moved over behind his mother, who was positioned on the lane line near the basket.
Aidan missed the shot but the ball somehow ricocheted off the rim over Janie and into Gareth’s waiting hands. He put it up for two to win the game. Gareth was clearly ecstatic. He and Reagan high-fived, then Reagan wrapped an arm around Gareth’s shoulder. Janie felt a flood of joy—she loved when her boys exhibited this kind of brotherly affection.
Janie narrowed her eyes at Aidan in question. He shrugged a shoulder as if to say “I have no idea how that happened.” But Janie knew very well what he’d done for her son. She just didn’t know how he’d done it, why he’d done it or exactly how she felt about it.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_6a6ed832-be8c-5fad-9547-9804d9263d5e)
THE NEXT MORNING Aidan found himself traveling along a stunning stretch of coastline in Bering’s pickup with Bering, Emily and Violet headed toward Bering’s favorite clamming beach. Thick forest bordered the road on one side while intermittent slices of craggy ocean shoreline flashed in and out of view on the other.
After several miles, Bering slowed and turned off onto a narrow gravel road. They inched along the bumpy drive until it finally ended at a wide sandy beach. Bering turned the pickup around and backed onto a section of gravel. The tide was definitely going out. Aidan quickly took in their surroundings, noticing where the surf had receded to reveal rocks, seaweed and other ocean detritus.
They unloaded buckets, shovels and supplies and even though the sun shone bright in the sky a brisk chill permeated right through Aidan’s jacket and seemed to seep into his bones. He added a windbreaker over the thick fleece.
Aidan heard the sound of another vehicle and soon a metallic gray SUV pulled alongside Bering’s pickup. Janie barely had the car turned off before Gareth and Reagan bailed out. Reagan greeted him enthusiastically while Tag and an older woman exited the vehicle. Bering introduced her as his and Janie’s mom, Claire. Aidan noticed immediately that Janie had inherited her mom’s hazel-green eyes and bright smile. They chatted for a few minutes before Bering got down to business.
“Let’s get digging. I’ll take the boys with me and try to get our limits as quickly as possible. Mom can limit out, too, and then she can watch Violet while I take Emily out to get hers. Janie, can you give Aidan a crash course?”
“Sure,” Janie said, but Aidan didn’t think she looked too enthused by the prospect.
“Janie is not just an expert clammer—she’s an expert clamming instructor,” Bering added.
Emily was nodding. “It’s true, Aidan. Janie taught me. Bering gets impatient, forgets he’s supposed to be helping, because he wants to get his clams.”
“I have a problem,” Bering confessed with an easy shrug. “Clam fever.”
Aidan grinned. “I understand—there are certain mushrooms back home in Oregon that I get wild-eyed about.”
Emily added, “Pay attention to Janie, Aidan. You do need to be kind of careful.”
Bering agreed. “She’s right. The surf can be sneaky here.”
“Got it,” Aidan said.
Bering, Claire, Gareth and Reagan gathered their buckets and shovels and headed down the beach.
Tag was busy pulling on his waders—the kind that fit like coveralls and reach up to the chest. Aidan slipped on the tall rubber boots Bering had packed for him.
“I feel like we’re getting outfitted to go on a safari hunt after a wildebeest or an alligator or something. This is a major undertaking.”
Tag laughed. “We do take our clamming very seriously. There are few things in this life as delicious as a fried razor clam.”
Janie watched them with a kind of half frown on her face.
Aidan suspected she was trying not to show her displeasure at being stuck with tutoring him, reminding Aidan again of how dramatically they’d gotten off on the wrong foot.
She picked up a shovel and a bucket and started walking toward the ocean. After traveling several feet she stopped and turned around. Her voice held a tinge of impatience. “Let’s get going there, Safari Boy. The tide waits for no man.”
“Oh. Right,” Aidan said.
Janie raised her brows and gave her head a little shake. “Yes, so that means we need to get going.” She turned and headed once more toward the surf.
Aidan grinned at Tag, picked up his gear and jogged after her.
Maybe it was an Alaska thing, Aidan thought as he followed Janie toward the water—taking normal activities to a level of seriousness that didn’t seem quite warranted. It was a clam—a simple bivalve. How tough could this be?
* * *
JANIE KNEW WHAT Aidan was thinking—or she imagined she did. The esteemed scientist was going to easily master this task, slay some clams and probably teach her a few things in the process. Well, she’d let him try. Was she hoping to exact a little revenge for the comments she’d overheard? Maybe. Initially. But at least part of what happened next he deserved, because she did try to warn him.
Janie quickly explained the basics of razor clam digging.
“See these holes?” She pointed out some indentations in the sand. “That’s where a clam is showing. The back of the clam will be toward the ocean. So you put your shovel about this far from the hole.” She placed the tip of her shovel in the sand. “Dig down with a couple quick strokes. If you’re good—or lucky—you’ll get close to the shell, almost grazing it, as you remove enough sand to stick your hand in and pull out a clam.”
She smoothly demonstrated her instructions and held up a clam.
“Looks simple enough. Wow. They’re bigger than I expected.” He took the clam from her and examined it.
“They’re also fast. So—”
“I’ve got it,” he interrupted with easy confidence.
Numerous attempts later and he still definitely had not “got it.” Janie glanced in his bucket and counted four clams. They would be here all day at this rate and the tide definitely would not wait that long—and neither would she.
“I don’t feel it. Where in the world is it?”
“Probably about halfway to China, I’d guess,” Janie responded as he mucked around in another hole.
Aidan chuckled but kept scrounging around in the sand, his arm buried nearly to his shoulder.
“No, seriously—give it up. They can dig like nine inches in a minute—probably faster here. Even though it’s cold, this sand is pretty soft. That clam is long gone. Here, watch me again.”
His voice held a note of disbelief. “Nine inches per minute? That would be—”
Janie talked as she dug and tried not to let the exasperation seep into her voice. “Yes, that means they could dig several feet in no time flat. I’m not making these numbers up. You’ve met my son, right? He finds these kinds of facts extremely interesting and recites them nonstop.”
Aidan flashed her a quick grin. “I can relate. But, wow, that seems awfully quick...”
She leveled another look at him, daring him to dispute her as she placed three more clams in her bucket.
He held up a hand. “Okay, I’m trying again.”
“Don’t dig quite so much sand this time. You don’t need a hole that big—you’re not burying a body.”
Untold minutes later he was on his hands and knees with his arm elbow-deep in yet another still too-large hole, feeling around for a clam she knew was long gone.
Janie glanced toward the ocean and saw it coming. She called quickly, “Wait, Aidan, you need to move—”
“I’m getting this one.”
“Aidan—”
“Hold on a sec...”
Picking up Aidan’s bucket as well as her own, she backed up the beach a ways to watch the action unfold.
Seconds later the incoming wave doused him, surging right over his back, which was unadvisedly turned toward the ocean.
He yelped and popped to his feet, water whooshing out the tops of his boots.
Janie smothered a laugh in the crook of her arm, before looking up again. Aidan stood there, holding a clam, dripping and silent, gaping at her in that breath-stealing, cold-water-plunge kind of way. It reminded her of when the boys surfaced after jumping into the river on a really warm day.
“Hey, good job! You got it.” She snorted out a laugh—it was too funny not to.
He finally found his voice. “You could have warned me.”
“I did.”
“You said not to turn my back on the ocean.”
“Exactly.” She gestured toward the water because that’s precisely what he’d done.
“I thought you were being overly cautious. I was envisioning a tsunami. I figured the odds of that were slim and that I’d have plenty of time.”
Janie shrugged and chuckled again. “I tried to warn you that the wave was coming, but you shushed me. Do you want to go back to the pickup so you can warm up? Bering usually has extra clothes in his vehicles.” She hoped he’d say yes.
“No, I don’t have my limit yet.”
“Um, I doubt that you’re going to get—”
“I will get my limit.”
“Or hypothermia,” she quipped.
Aidan grinned and ran a hand through his wet hair. Then he leaned on his shovel. She had to give him credit for being a good sport. But suddenly the intensity on his face had her bracing herself for an uncomfortable question.
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me?”
Really? she wanted to ask. Instead she said, “I have no idea.”
“Is this still about the bee?”
She sighed. “No, it’s not about the bee.”
“Then what? I, uh, I’m not the best at reading people. Sometimes I need things spelled out.”
“Well, do you think you’ve done—or said—something to earn my dislike?”
He looked perplexed. “No, of course not, or else I wouldn’t be asking.” He sounded like he thought she wasn’t very bright, which was true—he did think that.
She couldn’t take this anymore. She knew how he felt about her and he needed to know that she knew... “Maybe it’s my incompetence that’s the problem or my lack of education? I know how excruciating this must be for you—spending time with a simple mom like me.”
In an instant his features seemed to sharpen—eyes narrowed, lips thinned, jaw tightened, even his cheekbones seemed to jut more dramatically than they normally did. Satisfaction seeped into her because she’d managed to rile him. She was gratified to see something other than the laid-back, happy-go-lucky facade that normally seemed to emanate from him like an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt.
His voice was coldly disapproving when he spoke. “You were eavesdropping?”
“Not on purpose,” she returned. “You’ve got a very...loud voice.”
He stared at her for a long moment and his gray eyes felt almost menacing. Janie had no idea what he was thinking but she suspected it wasn’t good. In fact, she expected him to blow up at her, or at the very least let loose with a resounding reproach; even an apology would have surprised her less than his reaction. His face broke into a smile and laughter began spilling from his lips.
First he judges and insults her in that unfair manner and now laughs about it? Unbelievable. She wanted to let him know precisely what he could do with both his educated babble-talk and the interview she didn’t want to do anyway.
“Listen—”
He interrupted, “I never said I thought you were incompetent. I asked if you were qualified.”
“I don’t have a degree.”
“I didn’t say you needed one.”
Janie huffed. “You implied it, but I’m not going to play these silly semantics games with you. That’s what you meant.”
His sigh sounded gruff, aggravated. “I did. You’re right. But there’s a good reason why—”
“I don’t care about your reasons.”
She glanced around the beach and realized they were the only ones still digging. She could see Bering and Tag sitting on the tailgate, probably sipping coffee and snacking on the cookies she’d made. And that was where she was going to be soon...
She tapped her shovel and quickly scooped out a few piles of sand, stuck her hand in and nabbed a clam. She put it into her bucket and repeated the process. “You can stuff your reasons. There are no good reasons to speak about someone the way you spoke about me—all judge-y and imperious. You don’t even know me.”
She looked up to see frustration dance across his face. “Okay, fine. Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right.” She dug another clam, and then several more.
He stood watching her for a few moments before he gestured at the sand. “That’s astounding—how good you are at this.”
She dug some more and dropped the clams in her bucket. “It is shocking, isn’t it? That someone as unworldly as I am could be good at this? Now, I have my limit and I’ve taught you all I can, so I’ll see you back at the pickup.”
“Wait a minute.”
“Nope.”
“But I want to tell you something.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She slipped her shovel over her shoulder, picked up her clam bucket and turned to walk away.
He reached out and snagged the handle of her bucket. “Yes, you do.”
She tugged. “No, I don’t.”
He held tight, looking puzzled by her words. “Why not?”
“Why in the world should I? You didn’t say those things to me. You said them about me, never dreaming I would hear. There’s no need to apologize for your opinion, but don’t pretend like you think better of me than you do. I am a simple person—that’s true. A mom.” She gestured at herself in her blue jeans, ponytail and Rankins Rebels hoodie. “What you see is what you get. And I’m fine with that. No, I’m happy with that. But don’t insult me and then patronize me by trying to be fake-nice.”
His face transformed with what looked like genuine surprise. No doubt he wasn’t used to people calling him on his bad behavior.
“What? I don’t think... I mean you’re... What I mean to say is, I’d really like to explain—”
“No, thank you. That’s not necessary. Let go.” She yanked hard on the bucket, but he held firm. She felt like one of her kids playing tug-of-war with MacGyver and she was suddenly afraid that he would let go and she’d tumble backward onto the sand. So she released her hold, intending to leave the bucket, even as she wondered what he’d been going to say about her.
“Can you please wait a second? I want to tell you why I said those things—some of those things.”
She stopped, turned and glared as his words sunk in. “You want to explain part of it now?”
“Yes.”
He seemed determined and not at all fazed by his odd comment. Janie suspected he wouldn’t leave this alone until she heard him out—or heard whatever part he deemed important enough for her mommy brain to hear. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Yep,” she answered along with a one-shouldered shrug. “Let’s hear it.”
He seemed momentarily taken aback by her acquiescence.
“Um, all right... So, there was a woman a while back—a reporter—who wasn’t really a reporter...” He set the bucket down, then lifted his hand to the back of his neck and squeezed, looking up toward the sky as if searching for the right words to explain away his behavior. Finally he let out a whoosh of breath. “Long story short—she wrote an article about me and... It was unfair and dishonest.”
Janie watched him, silently waiting for him to add more. But he just stared back, all serious and sincere and...wet.
She felt a prickle of annoyance and finally asked, “That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to add anything else? That’s your big explanation?”
“Yes, it was a very bad experience. It caused problems for me and...”
“I’m sure it did,” she said somberly.
He nodded like she was actually being sympathetic now and not sarcastic.
So much like Reagan, she thought, and wondered why supersmart people were often so literal. Reagan she felt sorry for—this man, not so much.
“You poor thing—how did you survive it? Someone said some unfair things about you, which you knew to be inaccurate and untrue? That’s just awful. I bet you were really angry, huh?”
His face evolved into a frustrated scowl. “Oh,” he said, “I get it.”
She shook her head. “I doubt very much that you do.”
“You’re a very stubborn and unforgiving woman, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m actually really, really not. Normally I’m way too forgiving and I let things go that I shouldn’t. I hate confrontation and I avoid it as much as I can. But you...” She stopped herself from adding an insult, barely.
“O-kay,” he muttered.
He was obviously not sure what to do with that statement and she couldn’t blame him. It was probably a bit of an overshare on her part, but talking to him was so frustrating...
And apparently he wasn’t finished. “So I can see you’re not ready to forgive me.”
She tipped her head like she did when one her boys was feeding her a line of nonsense. Not ready to forgive him? Was he really not aware of the fact that in the course of this conversation he hadn’t ever apologized? Only “explained”? But she wasn’t really expecting an apology and she knew this conversation wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It wasn’t going to resolve anything. And she was being truthful when she’d said she didn’t want him apologizing when he really didn’t mean it anyway.
She sighed. “Let’s just forget about it, hmm?”
“I don’t—”
She silenced him with a look. “That’s your only option at this point. Either give it up or I walk.”
He muttered something under his breath, then said, “All right, fine. For now.”
“Forever,” she countered.
He grinned. “Let’s dig some clams. I feel like if I go back to that pickup without my limit, Bering might leave me here.”
That actually made her laugh because Bering wouldn’t, but he would want to. “He might,” she teasingly agreed.
Janie had to give Aidan credit for improving; he managed to get half a bucket, but after a few methodical, yet unsuccessful, attempts in a row, Janie could see they were running out of tide...and time.
“You need to be a little faster,” she advised after he failed to get yet another.
He nodded. “I can do faster.”
He looked around determinedly until he found a dimple in the sand. He began scooping furiously, but she could see that the blade was too close.
“Aidan, hold on—you need to make sure you keep enough distance—”
But he was too fast this time, and Janie winced as she heard the telltale crack of the clam’s glasslike shell. She didn’t realize that he didn’t recognize the sound himself until it was too late.
He’d already dropped to his knees and pushed his hand into the hole.
“Wait, wait—”
“Ouch!” he yelped.
Janie squeezed her eyes shut.
“Crikey... That hurts.”
Janie cringed when she looked down and saw the bloody ends of his fingers. The water was cold—if he was bleeding that much already this really wasn’t going to be good.
Janie turned toward the surf, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she looked for Tag.
“Is this why they’re called razor clams?” Aidan’s voice was perfectly calm as he studied his injured hand. “Because the shell is literally as sharp as a razor?”
“I don’t know about that, but this is why it’s nice to have a cousin who is a paramedic.”
* * *
AIDAN SAT ON the tailgate of the pickup and watched Tag clean the wound. He examined the cuts.
“You’re definitely going to need stitches. The tip of this finger is almost sliced clear through.”
Aidan repeated his earlier observation. “I can see why they’re called razor clams.”
Tag chuckled and applied some disinfectant. “Maybe—I’ve heard different accounts on that. On the east coast they’re longer and skinnier—more like a straight razor. They also call them jackknife clams back there. Our Pacific razors are a lot more oval-shaped, and bigger—fatter and meatier. Tastier, too, I think. Anyway, a lot people claim the shape is where the name comes from.”
Aidan shook his head. “Not as far as I’m concerned.”
Tag laughed. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“My fingers, they’re going to be—”
“Don’t worry. Dr. Grady is on today and he’s great. I’ve never seen a doctor who can sew better. It’ll barely even scar.”
Aidan watched as Tag wrapped his fingers in a length of soft white gauze. The blood seeped through and Tag kept wrapping. Aidan thought about the repercussions of an injured hand, but scars were the least of his concerns.
Emily examined Tag’s handiwork. “Aidan, what will you do? How are you going to work?”
“I’ll manage. They’re just lacerations, Em—they’ll heal.” Leave it to Emily to voice his concerns.
“But your boxes are arriving tomorrow, right?”
“That’s right,” Bering said as he began transferring clams into a cooler. “Your stuff. Don’t worry, we’ll help.”
Bering turned to address Janie, who had been hanging back silently. Aidan wondered what she was thinking. “Can I borrow the boys in the morning? To give Aidan a hand?”
“Yes, of course.”
Tag closed his first-aid kit and stood. “Hop in my pickup, Aidan. We need to get you to the hospital.”
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_7ca2589a-5700-588c-a8cc-ce4a2ede0aa6)
“JANIE, THE RESPONSE to your ugly-Christmas-sweater column has been unbelievable. Mayor Cummings is talking about having an ugly-Christmas-sweater contest at this year’s Festival of Trees in December. People are asking if you’ll teach a class. We could print a summary in the paper the day after each one, so people who have taken your earlier classes can follow along in the paper. What do you think?”
Janie handed a plate of scrambled eggs over to Laurel, who had stopped by to discuss the matter since it was Sunday—the only day the paper was closed, although Laurel worked every day.
“But I don’t get it,” Claire said as she rinsed her plate in the sink. She and the boys had already eaten so she could drive Gareth and Reagan into town for the work party at Aidan’s. “Your sweaters aren’t ugly—they’re beautiful.”
Laurel tried to explain and Janie let her. She had been over this with her mom too many times to count. “That’s kind of the point, Claire. The silly design versus the quality of the knitting and the beauty of the yarn... That’s the appeal and no one does these better than Janie.”
Claire shook her head in confusion. “That’s what Janie says, too, Laurel. But I still don’t understand why you have to call them ugly.”
Janie and Laurel exchanged grins, as her mom continued her argument.
Janie had held basic knitting classes in the past, always with a great turnout. Students would complete the class with knowledge of basic stitches and a scarf or the start of a throw blanket. A sweater would entail much more detailed teaching, but knitting was her passion and she enjoyed teaching the skill hands-on.
“I would be happy to do a class.”
“Awesome.” Laurel beamed. “I’ll get it set up.”
Claire put on her coat. “We’re leaving now. Bering is bringing the boys home, right?”
“Yes, thanks, Mom.” Janie explained to Laurel, “Bering, Tag, Gareth and Reagan are helping Aidan Hollings move a bunch of his stuff in today.”
The boys appeared with their plates and stowed them in the dishwasher. They said their goodbyes and filed out the door. Janie poured herself and Laurel cups of coffee.
“Which reminds me,” Laurel said. “Emily said Aidan was really resistant to the idea of an interview, so I called his agent. He thinks Aidan will do an interview when he hears what the Insider’s Alaska column is all about...and we settle on terms.”
“Terms?”
“That’s actually pretty standard procedure with celebrity types. They’ll let you know right off the top what topics or questions are off-limits—most of the time they’ll even want a list of questions beforehand.”
Janie scoffed. “Celebrity types? Are you kidding me? Some guest shots on Here’s the Dirt and Flower Power make him a celebrity? I played Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady back in high school—maybe I should get an agent?”
Laurel chuckled. “And you were excellent. Did you know Here’s the Dirt is the most popular gardening show on cable television? And don’t forget about that film on endangered plant species. He cowrote, produced and directed that, you know? It’s already being considered a pretty important piece of work in the scientific community and it hasn’t even been released yet. The film is going to be shown in IMAX theaters all over the world. And they are having like a real film premiere later this summer. A bunch of movie stars and business people and politicians are attending. I was thinking our articles could coincide with that.”
Janie took a bite of toast. “Sounds great.”
“I know, and I want you to do the interview. Emily is right about this and you would be perfect—”
“Laurel, I’m sorry, but can you give this one to someone else? I don’t want to do it.”
“Of course you do. Don’t be nervous—you’ll be great. It’s a human interest story—you’re great at those.”
“I’m not nervous. It’s not that.” This wasn’t actually true—the thought of doing the interview made her stomach knot like the ball of yarn Crosby had gotten ahold of last night. The yarn had been hopelessly shredded and tangled, so she’d had to toss the expensive wad of mohair in the garbage. “I don’t want to interview him—Aidan Hollings.”
“What? But why?”
“I... We didn’t really click.”
Laurel peered at her intently. “You don’t like him?”
The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Not particularly.”
“Really? Why not? Everyone seems crazy about him.”
Everyone hadn’t heard him talking to Emily about everyone.
Laurel stared at her expectantly, waiting for more information. Janie should have known Laurel would push the subject and she knew better than to try and lie to her friend.
“He’s... We’re very different.”
“How?”
“How?” Janie repeated the word and heard the sharpness in her tone. She inhaled a breath, searching for calm.
“Yes, in what ways are you so different? What’s he like?”
“Not what I expected.”
“I have this impression of him as this nice, easygoing, laid-back kind of guy... Plus, he’s Emily’s brother.”
The implication being that he must have some redeeming qualities as Emily’s relation. That had been Janie’s assumption, too.
“Half brother—they have different mothers, you know? They weren’t even raised together.”
She looked at Laurel and silently willed her not to push the subject. But this was Laurel—Rankins’s very own Lois Lane. Laurel would never pass up the opportunity for a story and Janie felt certain Laurel would never understand how Janie could.
“I see... But not liking someone doesn’t necessarily disqualify you from interviewing them. Reporters interview people they don’t like all the time.”
“I know, and it’s not that necessarily,” she lied. “I’d just prefer not to do this one. It’s an important article and I feel like I would need to give it all my attention, but I’ve got so much on my plate right now...” They both knew very well that Janie always had an overflowing plate, so this wasn’t much of a stretch. Janie had never used her crazy, single-mom schedule as an excuse to get out of an assignment, but she shamelessly found herself doing so now. “Reagan has his science project coming up, Gareth is playing club basketball and now with this knitting class...”
Laurel eyed her carefully. “You’re sure about this?”
“I am. I understand what an opportunity this would be, Laurel. And I really appreciate you offering it to me.”
Laurel looked surprised, and slightly suspicious. And Janie really couldn’t blame her, it would seem odd to her, too, if she was in Laurel’s place.
She added another layer to her excuse. “Tag flew to Anchorage yesterday and he was going to pick up some things Reagan needs for his science project—he had a Barbie doll on the list. The informational meeting is this week to go over the rules for the national program the science club is participating in this year. I can’t wait to see what he has planned.”
Laurel laughed and Janie was relieved when she allowed the subject to change. “A Barbie, huh? At least it’s not battery acid. I thought Principal Dundee was going to call the cops last year when he saw those bones in the bottom of that bucket.”
Janie grinned and shook her head. “I know.”
Last year Reagan’s experiment had tested the corrosive properties of different types of acids. The high point had involved actual moose skeletons, which his Uncle Bering had procured for him. A series of large, high-resolution photos showed how Reagan had managed to melt the bones down until they fit into a five-gallon bucket, the contents of which he’d proudly displayed in his booth—along with another bleached moose skeleton of similar original dimensions that he’d arranged on a table for size comparison. The line to get a glimpse had formed all the way out the door and around the side of the VFW hall.
“That kid...” Laurel chuckled. “What did he think of Aidan? I know how excited he was to meet a real-life scientist.”
“Already thick as thieves. Reagan is ecstatic to have him here.” Something made her add, “He was actually pretty nice to Gareth, too.”
Laurel tapped her fingertips together thoughtfully. “Well, that says something about the guy, right? That he was a hit with your boys?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Janie said, acquiescing. She thought about how he’d gotten the ball to Gareth so he could score the winning basket. He didn’t have to do that, and yet she’d also heard what she’d heard. And he never did apologize for ruining the cake...
Laurel sat frozen in her thoughtful-reporter pose, palms together, fingers tilted in Janie’s direction.
Janie racked her brain for something that might derail Laurel’s train of thought.
“I’m meeting Shay at the bakery later to sample wedding cake...”
* * *
ONE PROBLEM SOLVED, Aidan thought as he directed Bering, Tag, Gareth and Reagan as to where to put the boxes. The plane had arrived at seven as scheduled, and the entire shipment fit in the back of one of Bering’s full-size pickups. By nine thirty they were unloading the boxes and stacking them in Aidan’s rented building. Emily had found the vacant building on the edge of downtown before he’d arrived and Aidan could not be happier with her choice. His sister was truly a wonder of efficiency.
The brick structure consisted of one large, rectangular-shaped room with worn hardwood floors, and a kitchen area was situated along the far wall complete with a small refrigerator. There was a bathroom on one side of the room adjacent to a walk-in storage area with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Lucky for him, Rankins had no restrictions on what the space could be used for—yet another reason to like this little town, because he intended to both live and work in the space.
Aidan already had a cot set up in one corner of the room to sleep on. He’d purchased it, along with a sleeping bag, for a surprisingly reasonable price at Bradbury’s, the hardware/sporting-goods store that was also a computer repair shop that Bering had recommended in town. Aidan had mentioned Bering’s name while shopping and he suspected it had helped in determining the final discounted sale amount.
Somewhere during the building’s history a second sink had been installed along the wall opposite the bathroom. With the addition of a few tables and some lighting, that area would serve as his lab. Emily had already found him a desk for his computer and a comfy secondhand office chair. She and Bering had recently bought new furniture so Bering had hauled over their two gently used recliners for him to use as well.
Aidan opened a carefully packed crate and found his favorite microscope intact. In another box he discovered that his video camera also looked fine. He plugged in the battery pack with the intention of testing the camera out later, but he realized he was going to need help setting up some of his equipment.
Bering came through the door again, followed by Gareth and Reagan, each holding boxes that they added to the pile.
“This is the last of them, Aidan.”
“I can’t thank you guys enough. How about if I buy everyone breakfast at the Cozy Caribou?”
That suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement. Reagan walked over and inspected the microscope. “Wow, awesome microscope. What’s the magnification?”
As Aidan discussed microscopes with Reagan something occurred to him. “Do you boys think you could spare a few more hours after breakfast? I could use some help getting unpacked.”
“Yes,” Reagan said excitedly.
“No, sorry, I can’t,” Gareth answered politely.
Bering glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Gareth is playing basketball. I’m supposed to drop him off in an hour. But Reagan can stay if he wants. Emily or I can swing by and pick him up this afternoon. I’ll call Janie and let her know. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
Aidan wasn’t nearly as sure, but he was desperate enough for help that he put that thought aside. Surely the misunderstanding between him and Janie wouldn’t extend to her children.
* * *
THAT SAME AFTERNOON Aidan strolled down the main street in Rankins admiring some of the old buildings and the homey feel of the town. The sun had disappeared behind a patch of clouds, which seemed to instantly lower the temperature. The chilly air began creeping into his open jacket and he wondered how long it would take him to acclimate to the cooler weather. He reached for the zipper, felt his stitched-together fingers throb painfully and switched hands, reminding him again of his predicament—and a possible solution.
Reagan had been a world of help to him, which had prompted him to ask if he’d like to assist him on a regular basis—at least until his hand healed.
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Carol Ross
You can't always play it safe With four sons dependent on her, Janie Everett needs to keep her life uncomplicated. Now famous scientist Aidan Hollings is disrupting her orderly world, starting with the rescue of a…bumblebee.Aidan is only passing through her Alaska wilderness town, and wasn't planning to bond with her two older boys. Or become so attracted to the widowed journalist. His globe-trotting days may be be over if he's able to show Janie that they can share the adventure of a lifetime—together.
You can’t always play it safe
With four sons dependent on her, Janie Everett needs to keep her life uncomplicated. Now famous scientist Aidan Hollings is disrupting her orderly world, starting with the rescue of a...bumblebee.
Aidan is only passing through her Alaska wilderness town, and wasn’t planning to bond with her two older boys. Or become so attracted to the widowed journalist. His globe-trotting days may be be over if he’s able to show Janie that they can share the adventure of a lifetime—together.
“I like you, Janie.”
“You... What?”
Aidan took her by the shoulders and leaned his head toward hers. One hand traveled up and slipped around the back of her neck. He paused for a few tension-filled seconds and she wondered if he was giving her an opportunity to back away. Yet there was no possible way that was happening. She inched closer so that they were chest to chest. She reached up and grasped the collar of his rumpled shirt.
When his lips covered hers, Janie knew she was in serious trouble, even as it occurred to her that this shouldn’t be happening for so many reasons. She was too...simple...in direct opposition to her life, which was too complicated. But then again, he wasn’t the man for her, either. He was too complicated while his life was too...simple. And yet it felt so...right.
Dear Reader (#ulink_57303321-8cbf-5ecb-b842-6732c1f53823),
After reading Mountains Apart, the first book in my Seasons of Alaska series, my oldest sister, Shelly, called me up to tell me how much she loved the book (sisters have to do this—it’s a sister requirement). After gushing appropriately and making her little sister feel awesome and talented and loved (also required), she asked me when Janie (the hero’s sister) was going to get her own story.
“Janie is a grieving widow,” she told me in a particularly heartfelt tone, “all alone and raising four children and suffering from postpartum depression. She needs to find someone—she deserves to find love!”
As a mother herself, I love how Shelly connected with Janie. Since then I’ve had more people “suggest” that I give Janie her own love story. I’m so thrilled to be doing just that.
Janie first meets Aidan Hollings in Mountains Apart, but it’s a brief encounter and she is in no condition to notice, much less appreciate, the brainy, seemingly self-absorbed scientist. Their first (second) meeting in If Not for a Bee does in fact involve a bee; although it doesn’t exactly set them off on the right foot, either. But the title reveals so much about this story because indeed, if not for a bee, these two would never have that first encounter that leads to many more... Literally, if not for a bee, they’d never get their happy ending.
And they do eventually (I’m talking to you here, Shelly). I promise!
All my best,
Carol
CarolRossAuthor.com (http://www.carolrossauthor.com)
If Not for a Bee
Carol Ross
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROL ROSS lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. She is a graduate of Washington State University. When not writing, or thinking about writing, she enjoys reading, running, hiking, skiing, traveling and making plans for the next adventure to subject her sometimes reluctant but always fun-loving family to.
For my favorite moms—Granny, Shelly and the two Tammys. Thanks so much for your seemingly endless supply of love and support. I’m truly the luckiest daughter, sister and stepmom in the world.
Contents
Cover (#u9d1e2680-1682-5a95-b0d3-cb20bdfcb3ac)
Back Cover Text (#u9d1e2680-1682-5a95-b0d3-cb20bdfcb3ac)
Introduction (#u36f4e41d-2dc9-59e2-8e5d-0a1e2e7a9199)
Dear Reader (#uf0d6c7a8-48b4-5210-96c1-1ebd385957eb)
Title Page (#u0b3de343-2906-5cb3-95e6-95d0d3e4fbb4)
About the Author (#u25c84fec-566d-5066-9097-4648163131f5)
Dedication (#u0e1f38e6-5cd9-5aab-b0a9-94f33c645789)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue5774bfe-5aa4-54c6-aab3-068bebccf238)
CHAPTER TWO (#u8b39e5ae-23e3-5d4c-a898-f5ca47b51e46)
CHAPTER THREE (#u32f217ea-7bfe-5532-b07b-08358ed0992f)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u1bfd7b42-94c0-51e4-846c-747f97f3c8e3)
CHAPTER FIVE (#uc959e831-50a4-5bda-8369-6d11dab14ea9)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_758352f0-e504-5875-95ce-a8e4cb7b2e8d)
“HOLD STILL. I’LL kill it.”
“Wait...”
“Don’t move.”
“Mom, Mom, Mo-o-om...” Gareth stared with wide-eyed terror at the box he held clutched in his hands. Janie could tell he was on the verge of losing it and she knew the precious cargo inside was the only thing keeping him from succumbing to the panic.
“Honey, please relax. I will get it.” Janie reached into her bag for some kind of weapon. “Do you want me to take the box?”
“No, Mom, I’ve got the box. Just get it...hurry.”
“Gareth, please don’t drop the box.”
“I’m trying not to,” he squeaked.
“I know, honey. And I’ll get it.” She began rolling the newspaper she’d retrieved from her bag.
The door to the bakery jingled as Lilah stepped out. “Janie, is everything okay?”
The monster crawled closer toward Gareth’s hand. He let out a whimper and Janie felt her own pulse of fear.
“We’re fine, Lilah. Or we will be soon—a bee landed on the cake box but I’m going to take care of it.”
“Take care of it?” a deep voice said from somewhere over her left shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, “that Mr. Bee is about to go to the great honeypot in the sky.”
“But that’s a bumblebee.”
“Yes, and this is a newspaper.” Janie raised the makeshift swatter a little higher. Her hand came down in a lightning-fast swipe, but something nudged her elbow at the last instant.
She missed.
The bee flew up toward Gareth’s face. He let out a scream. The box went flying. Lilah grabbed for the container—almost had it—but the waxy cardboard slipped from her hands. Janie winced as the box crashed to the ground.
“Oh, no!” Lilah exclaimed.
“Mom,” Gareth cried. “I’m so sorry.” Janie looked down at her thirteen-year-old son crouched on the ground, his eyes glued to the box now oozing yellow mush from its seams. Tears glittered on his thick black lashes.
“Sweetie, it’s okay.”
She turned and glared at the perpetrator, who had caused this unmitigated disaster. “What is the matter with you? Why did you do that?”
“Oops,” the man said. His crooked grin matched his feeble explanation. Sun-streaked blond hair curled around his ears—he looked like a surfer who’d spent too much time chilling on the beach. And he was wearing shorts? It was spring, yes. But springtime in Alaska didn’t exactly call for shorts. The temperature was a not-exactly balmy fifty-one degrees.
“I’ll buy you another one.”
“That would be perfect,” Janie said coldly, letting plenty of sarcasm seep into her tone. “Why don’t you go do that right now?”
“Okay, great,” he said enthusiastically. He looked at Lilah. “You work here, right?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Lilah twisted her fingers together nervously, her eyes darting from Janie to the doofus surfer and back again.
“Janie, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault, Lilah.” Janie looked back down at Gareth, her chest squeezing so tightly she could barely breathe. His eyes were still trained on the mess of cake and pudding and chocolate. She could only imagine what he was thinking. His eyes met hers and it was all she could do not to cry at the stricken expression on his face.
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I ruined it. I ruin everything.”
“Gareth—”
“Hey, I think we might be overreacting here, huh?” Beach Bum pulled his wallet out of one of the numerous pockets decorating his cargo shorts. “Is it your birthday, sport? I’ll buy you any kind of cake you want.”
Sport? Who calls a thirteen-year-old sport? Janie looked at him again—really looked this time—and noticed a pair of laughter-filled gray-blue eyes set in a tanned face, a perfect match to his boy-band hair. Tourists, she thought with disgust, were a blessing and a curse. She loved her brother, Bering, and sister-in-law, Emily, for enticing them here, but sometimes she wished out-of-towners would stay away. Today, obviously, was one of those days.
She wanted to tell him to go away and let her clean up the mess he’d made, although she had no idea how she was going to do that... Poor Gareth. And Reagan would be disappointed, too.
“I’d really like to replace the cake. But that bee didn’t deserve—”
“Thanks, but no, I’ve got this.”
“No, really I can—”
Janie felt her scalp begin to tingle with anger. She needed him gone, but apparently he needed some encouragement in that direction. She lifted a hand and interrupted. “No, thank you. You have done more than enough—really.”
But he still didn’t move. Just stood there, watching, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
She wasn’t normally one to lose her temper, but he’d completely ruined their day—this day. This already difficult, excruciatingly painful day... What were they going to do now? How would they get through it without Boston cream pie?
“Why is it impossible to get another cake?” he asked Lilah.
“Oh, um, because it’s a special-order dessert.”
“Can’t you special-make another one?”
“No,” Lilah said with a sad shake of her head.
“Why not?” He asked with that same lighthearted tone.
“I don’t have any more—”
Janie turned toward him. “Look, I don’t want to be rude but I feel like you’re kind of forcing me to be, so will you please just go away? You can’t fix this.”
“But I want to and I think—”
“I think you missed your turn a few thousand miles ago—the beach you’re looking for is south of here. Take a right at Canada and keep driving until you see a sign that says California. Now go... Skedaddle.” She shooed him with a hand and then stooped to put her arm around Gareth.
“Skedaddle?” His eyes widened as he raised his hands in a defensive gesture. But his lips were twitching like they were all taking part in some big funny practical joke. “Maybe we all need to chill out a little, huh? I was only trying to save the bumblebee.”
“What?” she snapped. He did not just tell her to chill out...
“The bee,” he repeated.
Something dawned on Janie. Bees... Shhh-oot, she thought. Today was Thursday... She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. Could this day possibly get any worse? She stood, nudging Gareth to his feet along with her.
She studied the man now and wished with all of her might that this wasn’t happening. She didn’t know why she still made wishes because she knew very well they didn’t come true. But why couldn’t she have recognized him sooner?
She sighed and decided to get this over with. “Aidan, right? Dr. Aidan Hollings?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, his brows scooting upward with surprise. His eyes narrowed as they traveled over her. “Do I know you?”
“Sort of.” She attempted a smile. She imagined it looked more like a grimace and really didn’t care. “We’ve met. About two years ago. Your sister is married to my brother. I’m Janie Everett—Bering James’s sister?”
* * *
BERING’S SISTER? AIDAN HOLLINGS stared at the woman and absolutely for the life of him could not reconcile his memory of the hausfrau he’d met two years ago with this attractive yet prickly, helicopter mom standing in front of him. This wasn’t Janie. Janie was plain and boring and...quiet. He wanted to laugh out loud, and probably would have if he wasn’t so shocked. The hair color seemed right, though—that shade of deep red was rather unforgettable...and maybe the only characteristic about her that he could clearly recall.
“Hey,” he said, getting his brain back on track. “Janie, how have you been?”
“Better,” she answered tightly.
“What?”
“I’ve been better.” Her tone was dismissive as she flicked her eyes away.
She addressed the baker. “Lilah, I’m so sorry about the mess.”
Lilah smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about it, Janie. I’ll have Isaac clean it up. That’s what we hired him for.”
Janie checked the watch on her wrist. “We need to go. Thanks so much, Lilah. The cake was beautiful.”
Gareth looked at Lilah. “I’m sorry about the cake, too.”
Lilah reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay, hon. I’m sorry, too, for you.”
Janie glanced in Aidan’s general direction but didn’t even try for eye contact. “Bye, I’m sure we’ll see you around, Aidan.”
Aidan thought these people were getting awfully worked up over a dessert. He watched Janie and her forlorn son trudge down the street like they were headed to a funeral...
Odd.
Lilah turned and grasped the door handle.
“Hey, um, Lilah, right?”
She spun back around and scowled at him. “Yes.”
“Why can’t you make another dessert?” he asked again.
“Because Reagan is lactose intolerant so I made that one with soy milk. Besides, it’s too late. I could never have another one done in time.” She looked near tears as she turned away and ducked back inside the bakery.
Aidan shivered lightly as a cool breeze swirled around his legs. He stood on the street wishing he would have packed some pants in his carry-on bag and wondering if he’d somehow landed on another planet instead of the remote little town of Rankins, Alaska.
* * *
JANIE DID HER best to salvage the evening. She and Gareth swung by the grocery store and picked up a package of festively decorated, dairy-free cupcakes. At least her two-year-old twins would be happy. Gabe had this adorable habit of carefully picking off sprinkles with his tiny fingers one at a time. She mentioned this to Gareth and joked about the mess they would make with the frosting. Her attempts to cheer her oldest son fell disappointingly flat.
Janie let the silence fill the car as she drove them home. She knew she should say something—offer words of wisdom and comfort. She was a mother—weren’t these things supposed to come to her effortlessly? In natural, normal-type moments they seemed to, but she felt completely inept when it came to this... Probably because there wasn’t anything natural about your husband and the father of your two boys getting killed in the prime of his life while you were pregnant with two more.
A snap of the fingers and she’d gone from a happily married mother of two with twins on the way to a devastated, grief-stricken widow and single mother of four. And then, as if Cal’s death hadn’t stolen virtually every bit of her joy, a difficult pregnancy had leeched away what little remained. She’d ended up bedridden with preeclampsia, the twins had been born premature, and she’d immediately sunk into that cruel pit of despair known as postpartum depression. She could barely think about that nightmarish time without being overwhelmed with guilt or growing cold with the fear that those feelings might somehow return...
She pulled into the driveway of their home—the home she and Cal had so lovingly built the year after they were married. They’d been so excited to purchase the property a mere half mile from her mom’s. They’d poured countless hours into constructing the modest Arts-and-Crafts-style house, doing most of the work themselves—with help from family and friends—all the while making plans to fill it with the family they wanted to have. Well, they’d managed to get a good start on the family part before Cal had died. Now it was a struggle to keep up with the care and maintenance the three-bedroom home and the five acres of ground required. She wouldn’t be able to do it at all if it wasn’t for the help of her family.
She turned toward Gareth to say...something—she knew she needed to say something. But he was already climbing out of the car. Her mom met them at the door. Janie didn’t know how she’d survive without her mother—how any of them would survive. Grandma Claire had watched the younger boys while she and Gareth went to town to run a few errands, which included picking up the now-trashed dessert for the birthday celebration her oldest son insisted they have for his deceased father.
Janie wanted to cry.
“Hey,” Claire said. “Where’s the birthday cake?”
“It’s ruined,” Gareth said. “I ruined it. I dropped it, Grandma.”
“Gareth, you didn’t ruin it.” No, the bee patrol ruined it, she wanted to say, as she allowed her anger over the incident to overrule the despair. “It was an accident.” She looked at her mom. “There was a bee—”
Claire’s face turned white as her eyes darted from Janie to her grandson. “You didn’t get stung, did you?” She smiled—or tried to. “Of course you didn’t—you wouldn’t be here if you’d been stung. You’d be at the hospital.”
Reagan walked into the kitchen, where they were now gathered. “Hey, where’s the cake?” he asked.
“We didn’t get it,” Gareth said.
“What? Why?”
Janie answered, “There was an accident.”
“What kind of accident? A car accident? Are you guys okay?”
“No, Reagan, honey—an accident where the cake got ruined.”
“Oh.” His face fell, displaying his disappointment. “How are we going to celebrate now?”
“I think under the circumstances your dad would understand. We picked up some cupcakes. We’ll use those. Come on—let’s go sit at the table.”
Claire offered, “I’ll bring in the cupcakes if you want to round up the little guys.”
Finn toddled into the kitchen and let out a happy squeal at the sight of his mother. Janie scooped him up and kissed his velvety soft cheek. The thought flitted through her brain that at least the twins had been spared having to grieve for their father. They’d never known him. She immediately felt guilty—her signature emotion these days, it seemed. Of course it was better that Gareth and Reagan had known Cal for at least those precious early years. He’d been an excellent father, but it had just been so incredibly difficult to watch them suffer after his death—to watch them suffer still.
She secured the twins in their high chairs and took a seat. Claire walked into the room with the cupcakes neatly arranged on a platter. Brightly colored candles poked out of the frosting-covered peak of each cupcake. At least they looked pretty, which was something because Janie was certain the prepackaged, dairy-free treats would taste like cardboard slathered with sugar-infused shortening.
Claire handed Gareth some matches. He began lighting the candles.
Gabe pointed and chirped, “Cup-cup.”
Finn slapped his high-chair tray and laughed with delight as if his brother had told a hilarious joke. At two years of age, they already shared some kind of secret twin language.
“Mom, how many birthdays did you and Dad celebrate with Boston cream pie?” Reagan asked.
“Twelve,” Janie said and heard her voice crack. She tried to cover the sound with a cough. “I made your dad his first one while we were still in high school.”
Gareth turned his head and glanced out the window.
Her mom began singing the birthday song and she, Gareth and Reagan joined in. The twins shouted out their own joyous version of gibberish.
Reagan and Gareth blew out the candles as the twins blew raspberries and clapped with happy, reckless abandon. Gareth placed the cupcakes on small dessert plates and Claire added a generous dollop of “rice cream” next to Reagan’s and then dished up ice cream for the rest of them. Janie set a plate before each of the twins.
Janie and Gareth shared a smile as Finn immediately picked off a single sprinkle and examined it before delicately placing the candy bit on his tongue.
Janie swallowed her tears. She needed to be strong—she had to be strong for the boys. Three years had passed since Cal had been killed and she felt like she’d recovered as much as she possibly could, but the boys...
At times she thought they were doing well, for the most part—except maybe Gareth. He had these rituals—this birthday party for his father being one. He’d devised a ritual of some sort for virtually every holiday. The counselor had told her repeatedly that sometimes the grieving process could take a while. “You can’t rush it,” she said. “Don’t try too hard,” she advised. Gareth needed to somehow reach that elusive step of acceptance on his own. Janie wished there was some way of gauging how close he was because sometimes she had the feeling he might be sliding backward...
* * *
AFTER THE BAKERY FIASCO, Aidan strolled down the street trying to get a feel for the town that, as of today, he would be calling his home base for a while. His baggage had been left in Anchorage, but was supposed to be arriving on a small charter flight in a of couple hours and he didn’t see the sense in calling his sister, Emily, to pick him up until the luggage arrived.
Aidan’s purpose in accepting this position as head of the state of Alaska’s native-bee-population study was multifaceted. He’d earned his doctorate in botany and had spent the bulk of his career traveling the world studying endangered plant species. As such, he had a particular interest in bees and other pollinators.
He’d spent most of his adult life living in tropical locations and enjoyed the adventures, but lately he’d begun to crave a break from the heat. So when the opportunity to spend the spring and summer in Alaska arose, the change of climate had been enticing.
Aidan worked for various environmental foundations, nature preservation organizations and sometimes corporations or even governments of foreign nations. And for the last several years he and his colleague Blake Tryce had spent every spare moment on a film project highlighting the plight of endangered plant species. After attempting and failing to secure funding, he and Blake had financed the project and persevered. Seeds was finally finished. And while their goal in making the film was to inform and educate, Seeds had recently become the talk of the scientific community—and beyond.
Blake was ecstatic, Aidan not so much. He was grateful, on one hand, to be successful in spreading their message, but he’d never been thrilled with what came along with his pseudo fame. As a successful, renowned scientist he was continually turning down event invitations, public-speaking engagements and interviews as it was. The few he accepted, he chose very carefully. The added interest from Seeds had increased this kind of attention exponentially.
One particularly bad experience a couple years ago had left him especially wary and...beleaguered. He was in no hurry to make the same mistake twice. He needed a break and Alaska felt like the place to take it.
Not only did Emily now call Rankins home, but three months ago she and her husband, Bering, had also welcomed the first addition to their family—a baby girl they’d named Violet. Aidan couldn’t wait to meet his new niece.
Hmm, he thought, he and Janie shared a niece. This family connection could conceivably be a little uncomfortable, especially when he already knew from Emily how close the James family was—the entire extended family. Unfortunate, running into each other under those circumstances...
Aidan kept walking partially to keep warm but also because the quaint town intrigued him. Rankins was small, but not too small. Comparatively, his field work as a botanist meant camping in the rain forest for weeks on end with nothing but a couple of tents and maybe another scientist or two for hundreds of miles in any one direction. Those conditions had a way of changing one’s view of “civilization.” To Aidan, Rankins seemed to have the right amount of everything, including a decided lack of one thing he tried to avoid—people.
Food seemed plentiful, too, he realized happily as his nose alerted him to the fact that someone was serving up a hot meal. He hadn’t eaten since very early that morning, when he’d changed planes at LAX.
Ah...the idea of being able to get food whenever he wanted—and not something freeze-dried that became edible only when doused with water. Living in remote locations like he normally did, he couldn’t always be choosy about meals, but it sure made him appreciate a good one.
He opened the door to the Cozy Caribou and stood for a few seconds enjoying the delicious aromas assaulting his senses—bacon? Yes. And the yeasty smell of fresh baked bread...
Emily had told him about this place, had mentioned that she thought he would like it. She was right; he hadn’t even sat down yet and he liked the cozy feel of the restaurant already—the smells, the sounds, the friendly faces. All of the faces in Rankins had been friendly so far. Well, except for Janie’s, and her son’s, and Lilah the forlorn baker’s.
Aidan found an empty booth and decided it was a good omen that he’d already seen his first bee, even if he’d angered his...? What was she? His sister-in-law? No, but she was Emily’s sister-in-law. He thought about the episode again for a moment. He couldn’t think of a better way that he could have handled the situation. He hadn’t had time to talk her out of it—she’d already made up her mind to go for the kill, but he couldn’t very well let her run around town murdering the very creatures he was committed to saving.
* * *
LATE THAT SAME evening Gareth stared into the darkness, waiting for the sound of his little brother’s sleep. Reagan didn’t know it, but he snored—softly. Not enough to keep Gareth awake but enough for him to know when Reagan was asleep and when he was faking.
So annoying that he had to share a room with his little brother at all. His friend Abe didn’t have to share with anyone and he had a room easily three times the size of Gareth and Reagan’s. Abe had a TV, too, and three different game systems.
Abe also had a dad. Gareth would trade all of that and more to have his dad again...
There it was—the snore. Gareth waited a few more minutes to be sure and then slipped out of bed. That was one nice thing about sharing with Reagan—once he was out, he was out.
He retrieved the flashlight he kept under his bed, directly below the secret stash spot that he’d made in the box springs. It was the perfect hiding place because even when his mom went on one of her cleaning rampages she couldn’t see the spot. And when Reagan looked for one of his stupid darts or a Lego guy he couldn’t see it, either. Gareth was proud of how well hidden it was.
He crept to the doorway, and paused to listen. He hadn’t turned the flashlight on. He didn’t need the light yet. His mom’s room was right across from theirs and she always left her door cracked open so she could hear if one of them needed her. She was great that way. It seemed like if he or one of his brothers even twitched in their sleep, Mom would be there in less than a second. Reagan had had terrible nightmares after their dad got killed and bam—Mom would somehow know as soon as he started to whimper. Sometimes she would be there before Gareth even woke up. This was cool, but it also meant that he had to engage superstealth mode when he got up for these midnight raids.
He passed the twins’ room and grinned a little. His baby brothers were so cute. Gareth wasn’t sure it was normal to love his little brothers like he did, but he was grateful to them for existing because they had seemed to be the only thing that would get their mom out of bed there for a while. Maybe he should feel bad about that, like hate them instead because he hadn’t been able to get her up himself. But he didn’t. He had been sad after their dad died, too. He’d understood. It had been hard for him to get up sometimes.
He felt safe once he reached the room—the den. He wondered why it was called a den, because to him a den was where animals slept. But nobody ever slept in there—not anymore. His dad used to fall asleep watching football sometimes, but he’d never stayed there all night.
But the den was where Mom kept the stuff—her stash. But she didn’t hide it very well. Gareth had first found it a couple months after his dad died. He didn’t know what he’d been looking for when he’d found it. He hadn’t meant to snoop—not really. He’d just felt so alone—felt that way still—without his dad. He and his dad had been a unit, a team—“simpatico,” his Uncle Bering had called it. Gareth had looked up that word and it totally fit him and his dad.
Uncle Bering was cool, too. Uncle Bering had been what had gotten him out of bed after his dad died, but now he had a baby of his own and things were changing...
He froze for a second when he heard a sound. He exhaled a whoosh of breath as Crosby strolled into the room and let out one of his half meows. Gareth called it a half meow because Crosby opened his mouth really wide but only about half the sound you expected to hear would come out. The giant black-and-white cat had taken to “helping” Gareth in his quests. When he’d first started doing this he’d been afraid the sound of Crosby’s purr would wake his mom, but it didn’t. It didn’t even wake their dog, MacGyver, although he really wasn’t much of a watchdog anyway. But MacGyver slept with Mom and that was good because Gareth felt that the dog would be at least adequate in alarming him if anyone ever broke in and got to Mom’s room. Gareth thought about that kind of stuff because as the man of the house he had to be prepared for anything.
He stroked Crosby’s soft fur for a moment. Then he took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the cabinet, still without using the flashlight because he’d gotten good enough at this that he only needed the light when he got to the stuff...
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d38f4ec5-cd6b-5eaa-9e6c-5de303579872)
“WHY DID HE hit your arm again?”
“I guess he was saving the stupid bee,” Janie told her friend and boss Laurel the next morning as she settled in behind her desk at the Rankins Press.
Janie felt herself getting worked up all over again. “I swear if Gareth would have been stung...”
Laurel winced. “Did you tell him Gareth is allergic?”
Janie shook her head. “No, I asked him to go away, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s not at all what you’d expect a brother of Emily’s to be like.”
Laurel sat at her desk, clacking away on the keyboard of her computer. “Wait—I thought you’ve met him?”
“I have—on the cruise two years ago, when Bering went to propose to Emily. I barely remember it, though. I remember thinking he looked a lot like Emily. Then I went to take a fourteen-hour nap in my cabin...” She trailed off with a helpless shrug.
Laurel glanced up long enough to give her a sympathetic smile. Everyone in Janie’s life remembered the dark days of her grief and postpartum.
“Oh, my gosh, you’re not going to believe this...” Laurel’s ability to talk, type and listen at the same time constantly astounded Janie and the other employees who worked for her at the Rankins Press.
Janie had begun working at the newspaper part-time about six years ago, when Gareth and Reagan were both in school all day. After Cal died, Laurel had hired her full-time. She’d done about every job at the paper, and now wrote local and human interest stories, and contributed articles to the newspaper’s regular feature, Insider’s Alaska. Nearly a year ago, she’d started writing her own weekly column—Domestic Endeavors.
“I don’t know,” Janie said skeptically. “There’s not much I wouldn’t believe at this point the way my life is going and I—”
Laurel let out a happy yelp. “Sorry—hold that thought. We got them. We got all of them—the tourism articles. This is fantastic... They accepted the entire proposal.” Laurel beamed a smile in her direction. “Janie, guess what this means? I need to call Emily. She’s going to freak.”
Finally, Janie thought, a bit of good news. Laurel had already told Janie she would be contributing to the series of articles about Alaska if the proposal Laurel and Emily submitted to the tourism website was accepted. North America Live was one of the most popular tourism websites in the entire world and they would now be posting three articles from the Rankins Press about Alaska.
“She is,” Janie agreed with a smile. She found herself getting caught up in Laurel’s excitement. She was happy for her friend. This newspaper was Laurel’s life. The regular column Laurel had started several years ago, Insider’s Alaska, showcased unique and interesting aspects about their state. The column had been receiving an increasing amount of attention in the last few years, so nobody would be surprised.
“I’ll sit down with Emily as soon as we can and plan the series. I’ll let you know what you’ll be working on. Isn’t this exciting? Global exposure, Janie—for the paper and for Rankins...”
Laurel held the phone up to her ear. “Em, hey! It’s me—amazing news...”
* * *
“AIDAN, PLEASE. I DISCUSSED this with Laurel this morning and she’s thrilled with the idea.”
Aidan had spent the day catching up with Emily, visiting with Bering and getting to know his baby niece, Violet. Now he stared at his sister and thought, poor Bering. His brother-in-law didn’t stand a chance against Emily’s charm, not to mention those gray-blue eyes of hers that glowed with such utter sincerity. Add this to Emily’s background, when she’d been a corporate executive for Cam-Field Oil & Mineral, and the result equaled unprecedented skills of persuasion. Aidan figured he could very possibly be the only person in the world who had the power to resist being suckered in by her.
“Nope. Won’t do it.”
“What? Why?
“Emily, you know why—I hate reporters.”
“Oh, Aidan.” She waved a hand dismissively through the air. “That’s a silly thing to say. It’s like when people say they hate the dentist. They don’t really hate the dentist—they don’t like having the work done.”
He eyed her skeptically from where he sat relaxing against the cushy softness of Emily’s new sofa, his beautiful niece dozing peacefully in his arms. “Yeah, I don’t really get the connection...”
“I mean it’s not personal.”
His distrust of reporters was in fact both professional and personal, but Emily didn’t know about the personal part. He’d never told her about Meredith. Emily knew he didn’t enjoy being in the spotlight, she knew he’d had a negative experience but she didn’t know the entire story. And she’d probably written off much of his hesitancy to his inherent lack of people skills. Of course, Aidan understood the point she was now attempting to make, but he would not cave no matter the circumstances.
“Emily, I came up here in part to avoid this kind of thing. I just want some peace. This bee study is supposed to be sort of a sabbatical for me.”
Emily nodded slowly, her face a picture of sympathy and understanding. But Aidan knew his sister well. It wasn’t in her nature to easily give in. He braced himself for another pitch.
“I understand that, Aidan. I do. And I’m so thrilled that you chose here to get away from it all and, and...rejuvenate, or whatever it is that you’re calling this. But these articles are going to be such an incredible coup for Rankins. All I’m asking is that you let us do an article about you. If we could include you in this series? Imagine—a world-renowned scientist, the cocreator of Seeds, working right here in Rankins. Do you know what kind of attention that would bring us?”
“No.”
“Aidan!”
“I mean yes, I do. But I’m not doing it.”
“I know Laurel will agree to let you have total veto power before the article is published.”
“There is no article. Emily, I love you. I am so happy for you—that you’ve found your niche here in Alaska. I never thought the corporate-executive thing was really you anyway. And I’m absolutely thrilled you found a great guy and I could not possibly love this tiny niece of mine any more than I do.” Aidan kissed the top of Violet’s fuzzy head. She was cuddled against his chest, her perfect baby cheek lying on his shoulder. He’d had such an incredibly long day of travel from Costa Rica the day before he’d like to tip his head back and join her—if only Emily would drop this ridiculous plea.
Emily dipped her chin, clearly gearing up for another angle. “But—”
“No interviews, Emily. No exceptions.”
“Aidan, I’ve heard you say so many times that ‘the media is a necessary evil’ in your quest to save endangered plant species.” She added air quotes but Aidan didn’t think he’d ever actually made that statement, although he had alluded to the concept.
He carefully lifted a shoulder, so as not to disturb Violet. “There are plenty of people picking up the slack for me in that area right now. I’m not interested in contributing to the collective rhetoric at this point in time.”
“Okay, how about this... What if Bering’s sister, Janie, writes the article? She works for Laurel at the Rankins Press. You know Janie—you would trust her, right?”
Aidan felt a twinge of discomfort as he thought about his encounter with Janie the day before. He hadn’t mentioned the meeting to either Emily or Bering and he didn’t really know why exactly. For some reason the encounter had left him feeling unsettled—like he’d somehow made a huge blunder. But he hadn’t...had he? He didn’t think so, yet he kept doubting himself.
Janie had been angry, the baker clearly distraught and Janie’s son—who seemed way too old for that kind of reaction—had nearly cried over a cake. Something felt...off about the encounter. Too much drama. And Aidan didn’t want any drama in his life right now. Who was he kidding? He never wanted drama. And for the immediate future he just wanted to study Alaska’s native bees in peace and spend some time with his sister and her family.
“No, I don’t know her, Em. I realize she’s your sister-in-law, but I don’t know her. Is she even qualified? Does she have a journalism degree?”
“Well, no... But she has experience—she’s learned hands-on from Laurel at the newspaper. Trust me—that’s better than any education that money could buy. Laurel has a master’s degree in journalism from Columbia and took over the newspaper right out of college. And Janie is one of those people who is good at everything.”
“Really?” he retorted skeptically. “Everything?”
“Yes, really.”
“She’s a good reporter?”
“What does that mean?” Emily countered.
Aidan thought. “I don’t know. She’s so...mommy-ish.”
Emily scowled. “Yeah, well, she’s exceptional at that, too, Aidan. And I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply? I’m a mom, too, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Violet let out a little cry as if to emphasize her mommy’s point. Aidan shifted her from one shoulder to the other.
“Settle down—you’re going to upset my niece.” He smiled and lightly patted Violet’s back. “I’m not implying anything really... Simply making an observation. She seems very...maternal.”
“A silly one—why would being a mom preclude her from being a good reporter?”
Aidan sighed. “I didn’t say it would, Em. You just don’t...”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I don’t what?’
Aidan let out a sigh. “I don’t think you realize how excruciating this would be for me—that’s all. And you have been much more than a mom in your life, Emily. You and I—we have life experience. Janie has lived here in Rankins her entire life, right? I mean what can she really know about the world?”
* * *
JANIE WASN’T EAVESDROPPING on purpose. She’d knocked softly on the back door like she always did in case Violet was sleeping. No one had answered so she’d let herself in, immediately heard voices, headed for the sound and almost walked right into the middle of the conversation. She’d had every intention of making herself known until she’d realized they were talking about her. And as the meaning of the words gradually coalesced in her brain, she’d stood frozen in shock. Eventually, she’d managed to turn around and quietly exit the way she’d come in.
If she didn’t have to pick up Gareth and Reagan she would simply get back into her car and drive off. But Bering had picked up the boys after school, which meant they could be anywhere within a ten-mile radius around here.
Uneducated? Fine, so she didn’t have a journalism degree. But qualified? Yes! She did have years of experience working for Laurel at the Rankins Press. What did he have? The answer immediately popped into her head—a doctorate degree, a lifetime spent traveling the world, articles published in prestigious scientific journals, television appearances and an important, soon-to-be-released documentary film... Fine, so he was more educated and accomplished, but that didn’t give him the right to mock and belittle her in that way.
And mommy-ish? What...?
Janie looked down at her khakis, pink button-down shirt, sensible “comfort” shoes. She reached up and smoothed her hands over the loosely twisted bun situated above the nape of her neck. Her fingers skimmed over the dainty white pearls in her ears...
Well, crap.
She’d obviously made quite an impression on him the day before. A niggle of insecurity crept over her...
She quickly squelched the feeling. Indignant, that’s how she should feel, she decided. So she was a mom, so what? Yes, it was a big part of her identity. But she loved being a mom, and raising four children didn’t exclude her from being a qualified journalist. And Emily was right, Laurel would never entrust her with an assignment if she didn’t think she could handle it.
She grinned as she thought about Emily’s defense of her. If she didn’t already adore her sister-in-law she certainly would now. But how could such a judgmental, condescending attitude belong to any brother of Emily’s?
Janie lightly tapped a fisted hand to her chin and tried to decide what to do. She didn’t like confrontation, yet she wasn’t afraid of standing up for what she thought was right. And her fighting side was urging her to march back into the house and confront him. To tell Dr. Hollings and his overeducated opinion exactly which cliff he could jump off of...
Suddenly she heard voices coming from the direction of one of Bering’s outbuildings. She turned and saw her brother and her two oldest sons waving at her. She lifted a hand in greeting and began walking their way.
“Hey, guys,” she said, trying to dampen her anger while infusing some enthusiasm into her tone. “Did you have fun?”
Her brother owned a successful local business—James Guide and Outfitter Service—that offered guide trips for fishing, hunting, wildlife and glacier viewings. People traveled from all over the country, even the world, for Bering’s excursions. Gareth and Reagan loved to spend time with their uncle while he was working—and when he wasn’t.
“Mom, we went out to the cabin and through the window we spotted a bear with two tiny cubs,” Gareth told her. “So cute.”
“A bear already?”
“Yep, first cubs of the year,” Bering said with a wide, cheerful smile.
Viewing wildlife never seemed to get old to Bering.
“That’s great,” she returned. “Spring is definitely in the air.”
“Mom,” Reagan said, “Tag is flying to Anchorage tomorrow and I need a few more things for my science project. I can’t wait for you to see it.” He fished a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. He’d made a list.
“I can’t wait, either.” And knowing her eleven-year-old genius like she did, she would undoubtedly be blown away by his efforts. Reagan had been working on the project for months, but hadn’t yet let her see his progress. He’d commandeered a corner of the garage and kept a tarp over the area when he wasn’t working on it.
“What are you guys up to now?”
“Unloading firewood.” Bering tipped his head toward the pickup, where most of the wood had already been tossed into a large haphazard pile ready to be split and stacked. “The boys helped me get a load while we were out.” He looked at his nephews. “You guys can call it a day. I sure appreciate your hard work, though.”
“No problem, Uncle Bering,” Gareth said proudly.
Reagan asked, “Mom, is it okay if we go down to the river?”
“Sure.”
She and Bering watched the boys head toward the river that bordered Bering’s vast property. Bering removed his baseball hat, ran a hand through his dark brown hair and then rearranged the cap back on his head. “Aidan is in the house with Emily and Violet. Have you seen them yet?”
“No, but Gareth and I ran into Aidan yesterday.” She hadn’t actually seen him just now—only heard his insensitive comments.
“You did?”
“Yep, in town. I didn’t recognize him at first, and we didn’t really have time to visit.” She vaguely related the occurrence, not wanting to rehash the finer details of the event.
“Oh...” Bering looked confused. “Aidan didn’t mention that he’d seen you guys.”
“Yeah, well—it was pretty brief.” Not surprising that Aidan hadn’t thought their encounter significant enough to mention, Janie thought, considering what she’d heard. That pretty much sealed her belief in her level of importance on Dr. Hollings’s scale.
“Do you like him?” Janie asked. She desperately, and yes, selfishly, wanted her brother to say no.
Bering rubbed his chin. “I don’t really know him very well, either. I mean—I haven’t seen him since the cruise and I was pretty single-minded then. All I really cared to see was Emily.”
Janie chuckled. “We were quite a pair, weren’t we? You lovesick and me...grief-sick.”
Bering grinned. “He seems like a good guy, though. Emily is crazy about him, so that means I want to be, too. We’ve talked on the phone here and there, used Skype a bit, but I’m looking forward to spending some time with him to get to know him better. He’s already crazy about Violet—of course.” Bering paused to widen his grin and then gestured toward the house. “Come on, let’s go in and say hi.”
“Sure,” Janie said quickly, “but why don’t I help you with this wood for a few minutes first? Get a jump on that pile.”
Janie knew Bering would never pass up her help and she wasn’t ready to face Aidan when she was still so angry and...deflated. Touching, she thought cynically, how Dr. Hollings was so intent on saving bees yet had no qualms about killing a person’s self-esteem. She felt a fresh spike of anger. Bering handed her a pair of gloves. She slipped them on as she walked over and picked up an ax, now counting on the physical exertion to calm her ire.
Chopping wood always helped ease her anxieties, like some primitive form of therapy. Although, it probably wasn’t all that healthy from a psychological point of view to imagine what she began to imagine about Aidan as she gripped the ax, and began chopping the thick circles of wood into wedges small enough to fit into the woodstove.
* * *
“SOUNDS LIKE BERING’S chopping wood,” Emily said a while later as she and Aidan stepped out the back door. “Come on, we’ll go say hi.”
As they walked toward one of the outbuildings, Emily pointed here and there and recited what Aidan was sure were some very interesting facts about their property, Bering’s business and Alaska in general. But he’d quit listening because he was mesmerized by the sight that had suddenly materialized before his eyes. Bering and a...woman? Who was skillfully chopping wood like some kind of tiny, female Paul Bunyan. Suddenly she stopped and lowered her ax, apparently to laugh at something Bering said. She grabbed ahold of his arm and doubled over. The throaty sound carried all the way over to him and he wondered why Emily wasn’t scratching this woman’s eyes out for pawing at her husband.
“Oh, good.” Emily smiled in their direction. “Janie’s here.”
Janie? Aidan felt a stab of surprise as they drew closer and he realized that it was indeed the woman he’d encountered the day before. She looked so...different—lively, vibrant and...happy.
But as they approached something shifted in her eyes, like a curtain being drawn or a sheet draped over a surprise. Aidan knew he was likely the cause and he almost cringed at the awkward moment about to unfold. Not that he was a stranger to awkward moments, but for some reason he particularly dreaded this one.
“Aidan, Janie, you guys remember each other, right?”
“Of course,” Janie said. “I was just telling Bering about how we ran in to each other in town yesterday.”
“You did?” Emily shot a baffled look in Aidan’s direction. “Aidan, you didn’t mention that you saw Janie?”
“Yeah, um...” he said, feeling tongue-tied. “It wasn’t...”
“Gareth and I were in a huge hurry,” Janie explained smoothly. “We didn’t really have time to chat.”
With quick little tugging movements, Janie removed the gloves she was wearing and smoothed the delicate-looking fingertips of one hand across her brow. Aidan stared at those same hands that had only moments ago been grasping an ax and chopping wood like an experienced logger. His eyes traveled over her as he searched for words to explain...
Emily commented on the pile of wood growing against the side of the barn. She and Bering began to discuss how much wood they’d need for the coming winter. The banal exchange slowly drew him back to reality. Winter seemed to provide an unlimited source for conversation around here he’d noticed. Some people he’d met at the Cozy Caribou yesterday had been talking about their winter preparations, too, which he found funny because it was only just spring. He commented on it jokingly.
Janie stared back at him, stone-faced.
Bering grinned.
Emily frowned. “You can’t believe how cold it is here in the winter, Aidan. It looks like heaven now, but I can guarantee this is a cold like you’ve never felt before. I almost froze to death the first winter I arrived.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard those fluffy little snowflakes can be downright deadly,” he quipped.
Janie’s face twisted with something that looked like disgust, reminding him of the woman he’d encountered the day before.
Emily plopped her hands on her hips, and when she spoke her tone was teasing, but Aidan felt the passion she had acquired for this remote locale that was now her home. “Laugh it up now, buddy, but you would probably last about thirty seconds in one of our snowstorms before hypothermia set in.”
Janie did laugh at that, before tossing Aidan a determined look. “Yep, it’s all about survival of the fittest up here. You’d be surprised at how many transplants we get from the lower forty-eight who come here in the summertime thinking they’ve found paradise, and then winter sets in. Only the hardiest manage to last until the spring thaw.”
The way her eyes flicked over him had Aidan suddenly feeling the need to defend himself, and to prove he was tough enough for this charming little hole-in-the-wilderness even when it was iced over. Tough people lived in warm climates, too, he wanted to say, but for some reason he felt the need to provide proof.
His brain ran through a quick catalogue of his adventures, trying to settle on the most dramatic example to recount; he had endured a near-deadly snakebite in the Brazilian rain forest, an infected baboon bite in Borneo and a scorpion sting in Africa. He’d been nibbled on by fish even scarier than piranhas in the Amazon, suffered a torturous jellyfish sting off the coast of Queensland and had so many vicious insect bites he’d lost count. He’d experienced heat so intense it had melted the rubber soles of his sandals to his feet. He’d battled malaria, giardia, gangrene and dengue fever. Any one of those things had to be worse than a harmless drift of snow...
“I need to get back to the house,” Emily said, before he could decide upon which harrowing ordeal to smoothly weave into the conversation. She tipped the portable monitoring device she held in her hand. “Our baby girl is beginning to stir.”
“I’ll go with you,” Bering said. “I need to make a couple of phone calls.”
The pair walked away hand in hand, and just like that Aidan was left alone with Janie. Not a situation he would have chosen for himself, he thought, as the air seemed to thicken with a fog of silent unease.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_52943ed0-e594-5c28-a7e8-967f6a31ebbf)
AIDAN RACKED HIS brain for something to say. Janie remained silent, slowly spinning the handle of the ax around in her hands; her expression appeared to be one of disdain mixed with a bit of the same discomfort he was feeling. Maybe he should mention their run-in the day before? Get that out of the way and try to clear the air between them.
“So...about yesterday?”
She stared blankly. “What about it?”
“Um, I hope everything turned out okay for you and your son.” Aidan didn’t feel compelled to apologize because he felt certain that he’d done the right thing. A lot of people were woefully uninformed about the importance of bees in this world, and he was more than happy to educate them.
“Everything?”
“Your cake... I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I was just saving the bee. Bees are really—”
“Well, the cake was ruined. But we really don’t need to talk about it, okay? And I think I have a pretty good idea how you feel about your bees. Besides, I couldn’t possibly expect you to understand—” Janie squeezed her eyes shut and dipped her head down. She inhaled deeply and then slowly released the breath, like his mom did when she was practicing yoga.
“What couldn’t I understand?”
She met his look, her green eyes flat and unreadable. “My life. Can we just drop it? I really don’t want to discuss it. Everything is fine.”
Good. She clearly didn’t want him asking, and quite honestly he didn’t want to know.
“You’re pretty handy with an ax, huh?”
“Yes, well, Emily is right about our winters. Chopping wood is something that most people do around here.”
He glanced at the pile of wood in front of them. Plants he could intelligently discuss, and seemed safe territory.
“What kind of wood is this—do you know?”
* * *
UNBELIEVABLE, JANIE THOUGHT. Apparently it wasn’t enough for him to ruin their day yesterday and not even bother to apologize, and then insult her behind her back today, now he felt the need to insult her in person, too? Did she know? Did he think she needed a botany degree to identify the type of trees she’d been chopping for firewood virtually her entire life?
“Birch.”
“Hmm.” Aidan reached down and picked up a chunk. He ran a hand over the fresh-cut surface. “Why birch?”
“What do you mean ‘why birch’?” Janie’s tone held a sharp edge and she didn’t care. “It’s not endangered, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Aidan let out a surprised chuckle. “Oh, I know that. I’m wondering about the properties that make it suitable for burning.”
She shrugged and informed him confidently, “It’s plentiful here, easy to split and when it’s properly seasoned it has a very high energy content—somewhere in the range of twenty-three MBtus per chord. It’s very efficient.”
He didn’t bother to mask the surprise on his face. Apparently, the fact that a simpleminded small-town mommy like he’d implied her to be had recited an intelligent fact had left him stunned. She was suddenly grateful for the project that Reagan had done earlier in the year, where he’d studied Alaska’s trees and the properties of their wood. She had to admit that her son’s genius often came in handy, even though it nearly as often left her bewildered.
Aidan smiled at her, a slow, wide smile, and his eyes danced with what looked like appreciation—completely the opposite of what she’d expect after hearing his harsh words earlier.
“That’s amazing.”
He was obviously talking about the piece of firewood he held in his hands, but his eyes were fastened on hers. They reminded her of that intense, swirling gray of the sky right before a snowstorm—beautiful and a little unsettling. His mouth was tugging up at the corners like he was fighting a grin.
“What is?” An odd sensation crept over her, along with a warm churning in the pit of her stomach. The combination was something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Not since... Wait...what? Unacceptable—she was too old to be affected by the charms of some overgrown beach bum. So what if he was nice-looking? That didn’t impress her. She’d been caught off guard that’s all—surprised that he was being so nice to her after the way he’d talked about her earlier. This kind of hypocrisy was only proof, she reminded herself, of his character—or lack thereof.
“Incredible...”
Her thoughts exactly...
His eyes skimmed over her face and seemed to settle on something in the vicinity of her mouth. Why was he doing that? Did she have something really embarrassing going on there? Something in her teeth? Or dried ketchup from the Tater Tots she’d shared with the twins when she’d run home for lunch earlier today? One hand shot upward and smoothed over her mouth. She tried to wipe at it as unobtrusively as she could. He kept staring...
“What?” she finally snapped.
“Oh, sorry.” He shook his head. “I was thinking about how, uh... Wood is used for so many different purposes throughout the world.”
“Huh?” she said, not quite sure how wood could be a source for such amazed speculation.
“It’s incredible how wood is such a truly renewable resource, don’t you think? There are hardwoods—ironwoods they’re called actually—that I’ve seen that are so solid you virtually can’t cut them without a power saw. Did you know there are some woods so dense they won’t even float?”
“Yeah, well, birch floats and you can cut it and chop it. Here—” She raised her arm, offering him the ax.
“What?” He stared down at it like she was handing him a dirty diaper.
“Chop a piece. You can see for yourself.”
“Oh, uh,” he said, palms up as if in surrender. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I, um, I don’t think... I mean I don’t—”
She flashed him a frosty smile. Apparently wood chopping didn’t count as “life experience.” “I see. Well, chopping wood is a very useful skill here in Rankins, where, you might be shocked to learn, there’s not a huge call for bug doctors.” She punctuated her statement by pivoting around and chopping cleanly through a large round chunk.
“Plants,” he corrected her lightly. “I’m actually a botanist not an entomologist. I have an interest in entomology because of bees and other pollinators, but my doctorate is in botany.”
She shrugged. “Whatever—bugs, plants, if you can’t burn it or eat it, I’m not really all that interested.” She put one foot up on the massive circular piece of spruce she’d been using as a chopping block.
Aidan stared back at her for a long silent moment, his eyes drifting again to the ax in her hands. His expression looked almost wary—like he was afraid she might turn it on him next. What in the world was he thinking?
Why did she care what he thought? She didn’t...but something dawned on her as she followed his gaze.
She fought the grin tugging at her lips. “You don’t know how to chop wood, do you?”
“Uh, guilty,” he said with a shrug and a sheepish smile. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the occasion to, which seems strange somehow considering my profession.”
“Boy, all those degrees of yours are really going to come in handy up here, aren’t they?”
Aidan cocked his head, like he might finally be processing her contempt. “Yes, I believe they will,” he answered slowly. “For the work I’ve signed on for here in Alaska I’m confident that a doctorate is sufficient. I don’t have much experience with the flora of this geographical location or even this climate, it’s true, but I also don’t expect Alaskan plant life to be nearly as diverse and complex as it is in the tropics. I won’t go into the details because it’s very complicated, but I can tell you...”
Janie stared at him as he rambled on and wondered if he had any idea how condescending he sounded. She held up a hand, palm forward, to interrupt him. “That’s not necessary. I’m sure it would be excruciating for you.”
“What?” His face twisted with genuine confusion.
Yep, genius all right. Apparently, he’d already forgotten the word he’d used to describe his feelings about doing an interview with her.
She decided to remind him. “Look, Dr. Hollings—”
“Aidan,” he corrected her with an easy smile.
“Whatever. Listen—”
“Mo-o-om. Mom!” She heard shouts and turned to see Gareth and Reagan jogging in their direction, which was probably best, she thought, because her patience with Aidan Hollings was wearing thin. But this experience with him had been a good lesson, really...enlightening. Because aside from his attempt to put his best foot forward, she had a very good idea about who he really was and what he was all about. And one thing was for certain—even if he had agreed, there was no way in the world she would do that interview.
Yep, fate had done her a favor. It was about time, too. She felt like she deserved a favor...
Her boys politely introduced themselves, calling him Dr. Hollings and making her very proud. He asked the boys to call him Aidan, and Reagan immediately began firing off questions about a variety of sciencey topics. Reagan had been so excited to meet a real scientist and Janie had been looking forward to it on his behalf, had thought it would be good for Reagan to see what life could hold for him someday. Of course, that was before she’d actually met this man. Janie silently prayed that Aidan Hollings wouldn’t be unkind to her brilliant but quirky son. Reagan had been blessed with an aptitude for facts and learning, but somehow this seemed to have left him lacking in social skills.
Gareth was well mannered, but predictably standoffish. Her oldest was always slow to warm up to new people and she felt sure yesterday’s debacle wasn’t going to help any. He had to be feeling a combination of embarrassment and resentment. She did—and she was a grown-up.
Janie felt a sense of relief as she watched Aidan and Reagan chatting like they’d known each other for years. Reagan was like that—always more comfortable with adults than with kids his own age, especially smart adults.
She wondered what her oldest son was thinking. Gareth looked ready to bolt and Janie felt torn between taking him with her to the house and not wanting to leave Reagan on his own. Bering and Emily took the decision out of her hands as they came out the door and walked in their direction, Emily cradling Violet in her arms.
Aidan smiled and tried to pull Gareth into the conversation but he responded with a series of short, though civil, replies. Then he subtly blew him off by looking toward his Uncle Bering and striking up a conversation about wolves—one of Bering’s favorite topics.
* * *
GARETH WISHED HE was bigger. He watched the man who had ruined their dad’s birthday and thought that if he was as big as his dad or his Uncle Bering he could punch the guy out, or somehow keep him from hypnotizing his little brother.
Reagan seriously seemed hypnotized. He’d been so excited to meet Aunt Emily’s scientist brother—a “real” scientist. Gareth had to admit he’d been kind of excited, too—at first, before he’d actually met him. Before he’d ruined the Boston cream pie and Dad’s birthday had been totally trashed.
Now he was listening to Aidan tell Reagan something boring and stupid about arctic bumblebees. Gareth hated bees. He’d been stung twice in his life and had almost died the second time. He could still remember that terrifying feeling as his throat closed in, slowly choking off his air supply until he could no longer breathe... Then the world had gone black. Luckily his cousin Tag had been there at the picnic that day to cut a hole in his neck and save his life.
Or maybe not...
Because if Tag hadn’t been there Gareth might be with his dad in heaven right now. If there was a heaven—he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Reagan’s comment drew him back into the moment. “It seems like it would be too cold for a bee out on the tundra.”
“Well, one of the exceptional things about bumblebees is that they can regulate their internal body temperature—”
“Thermoregulation,” Reagan interrupted excitedly. “I’ve read about that.”
“That’s exactly right.” Aidan sounded impressed. “That fuzzy coat helps, too, and they also shiver their flight muscles.”
Gareth quit listening again. Aidan was clearly impressed with Reagan—everyone was impressed with Reagan...adults anyway. Not so much some of the kids at school. Even Gareth was impressed by his brother, though he didn’t understand him sometimes, and he drove him crazy a lot. But he did love his brother, despite the fact that the workings of Reagan’s brain were sometimes a complete mystery to Gareth.
He’d tried to explain to Reagan what had happened with Aidan and the cake but Reagan didn’t get it. Instead, he’d seemed to relate to Aidan’s reasoning, telling Gareth all about what important pollinators bumblebees are. Reagan was like literally a genius but he could also be completely clueless about certain things, which meant that the responsibility of taking care of the family fell entirely on him.
Gareth wished he could be better at it. He wished his dad was still alive to help him and tell him what to do. But that was dumb because if his dad was still alive he wouldn’t have to constantly try to figure out what to do...
* * *
JANIE TURNED TOWARD the house as she heard the sound of a car traveling up the long driveway.
Bering looked, too. “It’s Tag.”
A vehicle came into sight and she recognized her cousin Tag’s midnight blue one-ton pickup. He parked and hopped out, holding a basketball in his hands.
Tag smiled and tossed the ball into the air. “Hey, who wants to shoot some hoops?”
Janie grinned. That was a no-brainer where her boys were concerned, especially Gareth.
They gathered on the concrete pad Bering had poured solely for the purpose of playing basketball. They briefly discussed how to divide the teams.
“I’m warning you guys,” Emily called from where she now sat in a lawn chair off to one side of the homemade regulation-sized half-court. Violet rested peacefully in her arms. “Aidan is really good.”
Janie tried not to roll her eyes; she was highly skeptical of Emily’s assertion. She loved her sister-in-law dearly but athletics weren’t exactly Emily’s forte. Bering was a good basketball player. Tag was exceptional—he’d been all-state two years in a row as well as MVP his senior year. His sister, Shay—Janie’s cousin and best friend—was also an amazing player. Janie was no slouch herself. Janie doubted Aidan could hold a candle to any of them.
They finally agreed on Janie, Tag and Reagan versus Bering, Aidan and Gareth. But after only a short time Janie begrudgingly admitted to herself that Aidan did seem pretty comfortable with a basketball in his hands. The game was shaping up to be a good one. She passed the ball to Tag and he tossed it up from way outside, sinking another three-point shot as Reagan hooted with glee.
Aidan passed the ball to Bering and he answered with a jumper of his own. Gareth threw a fist in the air. She smiled; this game seemed to be exactly what Gareth needed to snap him out of the funk he’d been in for the last few days.
The score was now tied, so Janie put her head back in the game. She moved toward Aidan to guard him. He dribbled the ball behind his back, switching from one hand to the other. She scoffed at his showboating, and reached out to swat the ball.
He laughed as he dribbled the ball backward between his legs and out of her reach. Next, he pulled some kind of Harlem Globetrotters move, bringing the ball up and spinning it on one finger. He quickly shifted it to the other hand and somehow passed the ball to Gareth while it was still spinning.
Janie found herself gawking.
Reagan shouted, “Awesome,” Tag belted out a laugh, Bering whistled and even Gareth cracked a smile.
“You’ve been holding out on us, Hollings,” Tag remarked.
“Nah, just scoping out my competition.”
Gareth took an outside shot, which fell short.
The game continued and Gareth missed three more baskets. Janie could see his frustration building. He was a very composed kid, good at hiding his feelings, so she felt confident that she was the only one who could see it. But he was always so hard on himself.
Janie took the ball out for her team. Aidan intercepted her pass to Tag. She quickly got into position to guard him. He dribbled the ball and moved like he was going to shoot. Janie jumped to block his shot, the ball went flying and Aidan let out a yelp.
“Foul!” Aidan yelled.
“What?” she cried. “I didn’t even touch you.”
“I saw it, Mom. You fouled him.”
“Yeah, own up to it at least,” Aidan teased.
She gaped at her son. “Reagan—we’re on the same team.”
“I know, but you hit him right here.” Reagan pointed at his own arm.
Aidan rubbed his elbow and winced with exaggeration. “It’s probably going to bruise.”
Emily called from the sidelines. “Aidan, did you do something sneaky to draw that foul? He does that, Janie—you can’t trust him.”
Bering and Tag laughed. Gareth nearly smiled.
They’d been doing free throws on obvious fouls—often called or corroborated by Emily—to give Gareth and Reagan some extra practice. Now Aidan stepped up to the free-throw line. He bounced the ball a couple of times. The first shot went through the net with a quiet swish. He winked at Janie, an amused grin playing at his lips.
She ignored him. He motioned to Gareth and they walked toward one another. Aidan bent and whispered something in his ear. Gareth nodded, and then moved over behind his mother, who was positioned on the lane line near the basket.
Aidan missed the shot but the ball somehow ricocheted off the rim over Janie and into Gareth’s waiting hands. He put it up for two to win the game. Gareth was clearly ecstatic. He and Reagan high-fived, then Reagan wrapped an arm around Gareth’s shoulder. Janie felt a flood of joy—she loved when her boys exhibited this kind of brotherly affection.
Janie narrowed her eyes at Aidan in question. He shrugged a shoulder as if to say “I have no idea how that happened.” But Janie knew very well what he’d done for her son. She just didn’t know how he’d done it, why he’d done it or exactly how she felt about it.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_6a6ed832-be8c-5fad-9547-9804d9263d5e)
THE NEXT MORNING Aidan found himself traveling along a stunning stretch of coastline in Bering’s pickup with Bering, Emily and Violet headed toward Bering’s favorite clamming beach. Thick forest bordered the road on one side while intermittent slices of craggy ocean shoreline flashed in and out of view on the other.
After several miles, Bering slowed and turned off onto a narrow gravel road. They inched along the bumpy drive until it finally ended at a wide sandy beach. Bering turned the pickup around and backed onto a section of gravel. The tide was definitely going out. Aidan quickly took in their surroundings, noticing where the surf had receded to reveal rocks, seaweed and other ocean detritus.
They unloaded buckets, shovels and supplies and even though the sun shone bright in the sky a brisk chill permeated right through Aidan’s jacket and seemed to seep into his bones. He added a windbreaker over the thick fleece.
Aidan heard the sound of another vehicle and soon a metallic gray SUV pulled alongside Bering’s pickup. Janie barely had the car turned off before Gareth and Reagan bailed out. Reagan greeted him enthusiastically while Tag and an older woman exited the vehicle. Bering introduced her as his and Janie’s mom, Claire. Aidan noticed immediately that Janie had inherited her mom’s hazel-green eyes and bright smile. They chatted for a few minutes before Bering got down to business.
“Let’s get digging. I’ll take the boys with me and try to get our limits as quickly as possible. Mom can limit out, too, and then she can watch Violet while I take Emily out to get hers. Janie, can you give Aidan a crash course?”
“Sure,” Janie said, but Aidan didn’t think she looked too enthused by the prospect.
“Janie is not just an expert clammer—she’s an expert clamming instructor,” Bering added.
Emily was nodding. “It’s true, Aidan. Janie taught me. Bering gets impatient, forgets he’s supposed to be helping, because he wants to get his clams.”
“I have a problem,” Bering confessed with an easy shrug. “Clam fever.”
Aidan grinned. “I understand—there are certain mushrooms back home in Oregon that I get wild-eyed about.”
Emily added, “Pay attention to Janie, Aidan. You do need to be kind of careful.”
Bering agreed. “She’s right. The surf can be sneaky here.”
“Got it,” Aidan said.
Bering, Claire, Gareth and Reagan gathered their buckets and shovels and headed down the beach.
Tag was busy pulling on his waders—the kind that fit like coveralls and reach up to the chest. Aidan slipped on the tall rubber boots Bering had packed for him.
“I feel like we’re getting outfitted to go on a safari hunt after a wildebeest or an alligator or something. This is a major undertaking.”
Tag laughed. “We do take our clamming very seriously. There are few things in this life as delicious as a fried razor clam.”
Janie watched them with a kind of half frown on her face.
Aidan suspected she was trying not to show her displeasure at being stuck with tutoring him, reminding Aidan again of how dramatically they’d gotten off on the wrong foot.
She picked up a shovel and a bucket and started walking toward the ocean. After traveling several feet she stopped and turned around. Her voice held a tinge of impatience. “Let’s get going there, Safari Boy. The tide waits for no man.”
“Oh. Right,” Aidan said.
Janie raised her brows and gave her head a little shake. “Yes, so that means we need to get going.” She turned and headed once more toward the surf.
Aidan grinned at Tag, picked up his gear and jogged after her.
Maybe it was an Alaska thing, Aidan thought as he followed Janie toward the water—taking normal activities to a level of seriousness that didn’t seem quite warranted. It was a clam—a simple bivalve. How tough could this be?
* * *
JANIE KNEW WHAT Aidan was thinking—or she imagined she did. The esteemed scientist was going to easily master this task, slay some clams and probably teach her a few things in the process. Well, she’d let him try. Was she hoping to exact a little revenge for the comments she’d overheard? Maybe. Initially. But at least part of what happened next he deserved, because she did try to warn him.
Janie quickly explained the basics of razor clam digging.
“See these holes?” She pointed out some indentations in the sand. “That’s where a clam is showing. The back of the clam will be toward the ocean. So you put your shovel about this far from the hole.” She placed the tip of her shovel in the sand. “Dig down with a couple quick strokes. If you’re good—or lucky—you’ll get close to the shell, almost grazing it, as you remove enough sand to stick your hand in and pull out a clam.”
She smoothly demonstrated her instructions and held up a clam.
“Looks simple enough. Wow. They’re bigger than I expected.” He took the clam from her and examined it.
“They’re also fast. So—”
“I’ve got it,” he interrupted with easy confidence.
Numerous attempts later and he still definitely had not “got it.” Janie glanced in his bucket and counted four clams. They would be here all day at this rate and the tide definitely would not wait that long—and neither would she.
“I don’t feel it. Where in the world is it?”
“Probably about halfway to China, I’d guess,” Janie responded as he mucked around in another hole.
Aidan chuckled but kept scrounging around in the sand, his arm buried nearly to his shoulder.
“No, seriously—give it up. They can dig like nine inches in a minute—probably faster here. Even though it’s cold, this sand is pretty soft. That clam is long gone. Here, watch me again.”
His voice held a note of disbelief. “Nine inches per minute? That would be—”
Janie talked as she dug and tried not to let the exasperation seep into her voice. “Yes, that means they could dig several feet in no time flat. I’m not making these numbers up. You’ve met my son, right? He finds these kinds of facts extremely interesting and recites them nonstop.”
Aidan flashed her a quick grin. “I can relate. But, wow, that seems awfully quick...”
She leveled another look at him, daring him to dispute her as she placed three more clams in her bucket.
He held up a hand. “Okay, I’m trying again.”
“Don’t dig quite so much sand this time. You don’t need a hole that big—you’re not burying a body.”
Untold minutes later he was on his hands and knees with his arm elbow-deep in yet another still too-large hole, feeling around for a clam she knew was long gone.
Janie glanced toward the ocean and saw it coming. She called quickly, “Wait, Aidan, you need to move—”
“I’m getting this one.”
“Aidan—”
“Hold on a sec...”
Picking up Aidan’s bucket as well as her own, she backed up the beach a ways to watch the action unfold.
Seconds later the incoming wave doused him, surging right over his back, which was unadvisedly turned toward the ocean.
He yelped and popped to his feet, water whooshing out the tops of his boots.
Janie smothered a laugh in the crook of her arm, before looking up again. Aidan stood there, holding a clam, dripping and silent, gaping at her in that breath-stealing, cold-water-plunge kind of way. It reminded her of when the boys surfaced after jumping into the river on a really warm day.
“Hey, good job! You got it.” She snorted out a laugh—it was too funny not to.
He finally found his voice. “You could have warned me.”
“I did.”
“You said not to turn my back on the ocean.”
“Exactly.” She gestured toward the water because that’s precisely what he’d done.
“I thought you were being overly cautious. I was envisioning a tsunami. I figured the odds of that were slim and that I’d have plenty of time.”
Janie shrugged and chuckled again. “I tried to warn you that the wave was coming, but you shushed me. Do you want to go back to the pickup so you can warm up? Bering usually has extra clothes in his vehicles.” She hoped he’d say yes.
“No, I don’t have my limit yet.”
“Um, I doubt that you’re going to get—”
“I will get my limit.”
“Or hypothermia,” she quipped.
Aidan grinned and ran a hand through his wet hair. Then he leaned on his shovel. She had to give him credit for being a good sport. But suddenly the intensity on his face had her bracing herself for an uncomfortable question.
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me?”
Really? she wanted to ask. Instead she said, “I have no idea.”
“Is this still about the bee?”
She sighed. “No, it’s not about the bee.”
“Then what? I, uh, I’m not the best at reading people. Sometimes I need things spelled out.”
“Well, do you think you’ve done—or said—something to earn my dislike?”
He looked perplexed. “No, of course not, or else I wouldn’t be asking.” He sounded like he thought she wasn’t very bright, which was true—he did think that.
She couldn’t take this anymore. She knew how he felt about her and he needed to know that she knew... “Maybe it’s my incompetence that’s the problem or my lack of education? I know how excruciating this must be for you—spending time with a simple mom like me.”
In an instant his features seemed to sharpen—eyes narrowed, lips thinned, jaw tightened, even his cheekbones seemed to jut more dramatically than they normally did. Satisfaction seeped into her because she’d managed to rile him. She was gratified to see something other than the laid-back, happy-go-lucky facade that normally seemed to emanate from him like an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt.
His voice was coldly disapproving when he spoke. “You were eavesdropping?”
“Not on purpose,” she returned. “You’ve got a very...loud voice.”
He stared at her for a long moment and his gray eyes felt almost menacing. Janie had no idea what he was thinking but she suspected it wasn’t good. In fact, she expected him to blow up at her, or at the very least let loose with a resounding reproach; even an apology would have surprised her less than his reaction. His face broke into a smile and laughter began spilling from his lips.
First he judges and insults her in that unfair manner and now laughs about it? Unbelievable. She wanted to let him know precisely what he could do with both his educated babble-talk and the interview she didn’t want to do anyway.
“Listen—”
He interrupted, “I never said I thought you were incompetent. I asked if you were qualified.”
“I don’t have a degree.”
“I didn’t say you needed one.”
Janie huffed. “You implied it, but I’m not going to play these silly semantics games with you. That’s what you meant.”
His sigh sounded gruff, aggravated. “I did. You’re right. But there’s a good reason why—”
“I don’t care about your reasons.”
She glanced around the beach and realized they were the only ones still digging. She could see Bering and Tag sitting on the tailgate, probably sipping coffee and snacking on the cookies she’d made. And that was where she was going to be soon...
She tapped her shovel and quickly scooped out a few piles of sand, stuck her hand in and nabbed a clam. She put it into her bucket and repeated the process. “You can stuff your reasons. There are no good reasons to speak about someone the way you spoke about me—all judge-y and imperious. You don’t even know me.”
She looked up to see frustration dance across his face. “Okay, fine. Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right.” She dug another clam, and then several more.
He stood watching her for a few moments before he gestured at the sand. “That’s astounding—how good you are at this.”
She dug some more and dropped the clams in her bucket. “It is shocking, isn’t it? That someone as unworldly as I am could be good at this? Now, I have my limit and I’ve taught you all I can, so I’ll see you back at the pickup.”
“Wait a minute.”
“Nope.”
“But I want to tell you something.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She slipped her shovel over her shoulder, picked up her clam bucket and turned to walk away.
He reached out and snagged the handle of her bucket. “Yes, you do.”
She tugged. “No, I don’t.”
He held tight, looking puzzled by her words. “Why not?”
“Why in the world should I? You didn’t say those things to me. You said them about me, never dreaming I would hear. There’s no need to apologize for your opinion, but don’t pretend like you think better of me than you do. I am a simple person—that’s true. A mom.” She gestured at herself in her blue jeans, ponytail and Rankins Rebels hoodie. “What you see is what you get. And I’m fine with that. No, I’m happy with that. But don’t insult me and then patronize me by trying to be fake-nice.”
His face transformed with what looked like genuine surprise. No doubt he wasn’t used to people calling him on his bad behavior.
“What? I don’t think... I mean you’re... What I mean to say is, I’d really like to explain—”
“No, thank you. That’s not necessary. Let go.” She yanked hard on the bucket, but he held firm. She felt like one of her kids playing tug-of-war with MacGyver and she was suddenly afraid that he would let go and she’d tumble backward onto the sand. So she released her hold, intending to leave the bucket, even as she wondered what he’d been going to say about her.
“Can you please wait a second? I want to tell you why I said those things—some of those things.”
She stopped, turned and glared as his words sunk in. “You want to explain part of it now?”
“Yes.”
He seemed determined and not at all fazed by his odd comment. Janie suspected he wouldn’t leave this alone until she heard him out—or heard whatever part he deemed important enough for her mommy brain to hear. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Yep,” she answered along with a one-shouldered shrug. “Let’s hear it.”
He seemed momentarily taken aback by her acquiescence.
“Um, all right... So, there was a woman a while back—a reporter—who wasn’t really a reporter...” He set the bucket down, then lifted his hand to the back of his neck and squeezed, looking up toward the sky as if searching for the right words to explain away his behavior. Finally he let out a whoosh of breath. “Long story short—she wrote an article about me and... It was unfair and dishonest.”
Janie watched him, silently waiting for him to add more. But he just stared back, all serious and sincere and...wet.
She felt a prickle of annoyance and finally asked, “That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to add anything else? That’s your big explanation?”
“Yes, it was a very bad experience. It caused problems for me and...”
“I’m sure it did,” she said somberly.
He nodded like she was actually being sympathetic now and not sarcastic.
So much like Reagan, she thought, and wondered why supersmart people were often so literal. Reagan she felt sorry for—this man, not so much.
“You poor thing—how did you survive it? Someone said some unfair things about you, which you knew to be inaccurate and untrue? That’s just awful. I bet you were really angry, huh?”
His face evolved into a frustrated scowl. “Oh,” he said, “I get it.”
She shook her head. “I doubt very much that you do.”
“You’re a very stubborn and unforgiving woman, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m actually really, really not. Normally I’m way too forgiving and I let things go that I shouldn’t. I hate confrontation and I avoid it as much as I can. But you...” She stopped herself from adding an insult, barely.
“O-kay,” he muttered.
He was obviously not sure what to do with that statement and she couldn’t blame him. It was probably a bit of an overshare on her part, but talking to him was so frustrating...
And apparently he wasn’t finished. “So I can see you’re not ready to forgive me.”
She tipped her head like she did when one her boys was feeding her a line of nonsense. Not ready to forgive him? Was he really not aware of the fact that in the course of this conversation he hadn’t ever apologized? Only “explained”? But she wasn’t really expecting an apology and she knew this conversation wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It wasn’t going to resolve anything. And she was being truthful when she’d said she didn’t want him apologizing when he really didn’t mean it anyway.
She sighed. “Let’s just forget about it, hmm?”
“I don’t—”
She silenced him with a look. “That’s your only option at this point. Either give it up or I walk.”
He muttered something under his breath, then said, “All right, fine. For now.”
“Forever,” she countered.
He grinned. “Let’s dig some clams. I feel like if I go back to that pickup without my limit, Bering might leave me here.”
That actually made her laugh because Bering wouldn’t, but he would want to. “He might,” she teasingly agreed.
Janie had to give Aidan credit for improving; he managed to get half a bucket, but after a few methodical, yet unsuccessful, attempts in a row, Janie could see they were running out of tide...and time.
“You need to be a little faster,” she advised after he failed to get yet another.
He nodded. “I can do faster.”
He looked around determinedly until he found a dimple in the sand. He began scooping furiously, but she could see that the blade was too close.
“Aidan, hold on—you need to make sure you keep enough distance—”
But he was too fast this time, and Janie winced as she heard the telltale crack of the clam’s glasslike shell. She didn’t realize that he didn’t recognize the sound himself until it was too late.
He’d already dropped to his knees and pushed his hand into the hole.
“Wait, wait—”
“Ouch!” he yelped.
Janie squeezed her eyes shut.
“Crikey... That hurts.”
Janie cringed when she looked down and saw the bloody ends of his fingers. The water was cold—if he was bleeding that much already this really wasn’t going to be good.
Janie turned toward the surf, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she looked for Tag.
“Is this why they’re called razor clams?” Aidan’s voice was perfectly calm as he studied his injured hand. “Because the shell is literally as sharp as a razor?”
“I don’t know about that, but this is why it’s nice to have a cousin who is a paramedic.”
* * *
AIDAN SAT ON the tailgate of the pickup and watched Tag clean the wound. He examined the cuts.
“You’re definitely going to need stitches. The tip of this finger is almost sliced clear through.”
Aidan repeated his earlier observation. “I can see why they’re called razor clams.”
Tag chuckled and applied some disinfectant. “Maybe—I’ve heard different accounts on that. On the east coast they’re longer and skinnier—more like a straight razor. They also call them jackknife clams back there. Our Pacific razors are a lot more oval-shaped, and bigger—fatter and meatier. Tastier, too, I think. Anyway, a lot people claim the shape is where the name comes from.”
Aidan shook his head. “Not as far as I’m concerned.”
Tag laughed. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“My fingers, they’re going to be—”
“Don’t worry. Dr. Grady is on today and he’s great. I’ve never seen a doctor who can sew better. It’ll barely even scar.”
Aidan watched as Tag wrapped his fingers in a length of soft white gauze. The blood seeped through and Tag kept wrapping. Aidan thought about the repercussions of an injured hand, but scars were the least of his concerns.
Emily examined Tag’s handiwork. “Aidan, what will you do? How are you going to work?”
“I’ll manage. They’re just lacerations, Em—they’ll heal.” Leave it to Emily to voice his concerns.
“But your boxes are arriving tomorrow, right?”
“That’s right,” Bering said as he began transferring clams into a cooler. “Your stuff. Don’t worry, we’ll help.”
Bering turned to address Janie, who had been hanging back silently. Aidan wondered what she was thinking. “Can I borrow the boys in the morning? To give Aidan a hand?”
“Yes, of course.”
Tag closed his first-aid kit and stood. “Hop in my pickup, Aidan. We need to get you to the hospital.”
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_7ca2589a-5700-588c-a8cc-ce4a2ede0aa6)
“JANIE, THE RESPONSE to your ugly-Christmas-sweater column has been unbelievable. Mayor Cummings is talking about having an ugly-Christmas-sweater contest at this year’s Festival of Trees in December. People are asking if you’ll teach a class. We could print a summary in the paper the day after each one, so people who have taken your earlier classes can follow along in the paper. What do you think?”
Janie handed a plate of scrambled eggs over to Laurel, who had stopped by to discuss the matter since it was Sunday—the only day the paper was closed, although Laurel worked every day.
“But I don’t get it,” Claire said as she rinsed her plate in the sink. She and the boys had already eaten so she could drive Gareth and Reagan into town for the work party at Aidan’s. “Your sweaters aren’t ugly—they’re beautiful.”
Laurel tried to explain and Janie let her. She had been over this with her mom too many times to count. “That’s kind of the point, Claire. The silly design versus the quality of the knitting and the beauty of the yarn... That’s the appeal and no one does these better than Janie.”
Claire shook her head in confusion. “That’s what Janie says, too, Laurel. But I still don’t understand why you have to call them ugly.”
Janie and Laurel exchanged grins, as her mom continued her argument.
Janie had held basic knitting classes in the past, always with a great turnout. Students would complete the class with knowledge of basic stitches and a scarf or the start of a throw blanket. A sweater would entail much more detailed teaching, but knitting was her passion and she enjoyed teaching the skill hands-on.
“I would be happy to do a class.”
“Awesome.” Laurel beamed. “I’ll get it set up.”
Claire put on her coat. “We’re leaving now. Bering is bringing the boys home, right?”
“Yes, thanks, Mom.” Janie explained to Laurel, “Bering, Tag, Gareth and Reagan are helping Aidan Hollings move a bunch of his stuff in today.”
The boys appeared with their plates and stowed them in the dishwasher. They said their goodbyes and filed out the door. Janie poured herself and Laurel cups of coffee.
“Which reminds me,” Laurel said. “Emily said Aidan was really resistant to the idea of an interview, so I called his agent. He thinks Aidan will do an interview when he hears what the Insider’s Alaska column is all about...and we settle on terms.”
“Terms?”
“That’s actually pretty standard procedure with celebrity types. They’ll let you know right off the top what topics or questions are off-limits—most of the time they’ll even want a list of questions beforehand.”
Janie scoffed. “Celebrity types? Are you kidding me? Some guest shots on Here’s the Dirt and Flower Power make him a celebrity? I played Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady back in high school—maybe I should get an agent?”
Laurel chuckled. “And you were excellent. Did you know Here’s the Dirt is the most popular gardening show on cable television? And don’t forget about that film on endangered plant species. He cowrote, produced and directed that, you know? It’s already being considered a pretty important piece of work in the scientific community and it hasn’t even been released yet. The film is going to be shown in IMAX theaters all over the world. And they are having like a real film premiere later this summer. A bunch of movie stars and business people and politicians are attending. I was thinking our articles could coincide with that.”
Janie took a bite of toast. “Sounds great.”
“I know, and I want you to do the interview. Emily is right about this and you would be perfect—”
“Laurel, I’m sorry, but can you give this one to someone else? I don’t want to do it.”
“Of course you do. Don’t be nervous—you’ll be great. It’s a human interest story—you’re great at those.”
“I’m not nervous. It’s not that.” This wasn’t actually true—the thought of doing the interview made her stomach knot like the ball of yarn Crosby had gotten ahold of last night. The yarn had been hopelessly shredded and tangled, so she’d had to toss the expensive wad of mohair in the garbage. “I don’t want to interview him—Aidan Hollings.”
“What? But why?”
“I... We didn’t really click.”
Laurel peered at her intently. “You don’t like him?”
The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Not particularly.”
“Really? Why not? Everyone seems crazy about him.”
Everyone hadn’t heard him talking to Emily about everyone.
Laurel stared at her expectantly, waiting for more information. Janie should have known Laurel would push the subject and she knew better than to try and lie to her friend.
“He’s... We’re very different.”
“How?”
“How?” Janie repeated the word and heard the sharpness in her tone. She inhaled a breath, searching for calm.
“Yes, in what ways are you so different? What’s he like?”
“Not what I expected.”
“I have this impression of him as this nice, easygoing, laid-back kind of guy... Plus, he’s Emily’s brother.”
The implication being that he must have some redeeming qualities as Emily’s relation. That had been Janie’s assumption, too.
“Half brother—they have different mothers, you know? They weren’t even raised together.”
She looked at Laurel and silently willed her not to push the subject. But this was Laurel—Rankins’s very own Lois Lane. Laurel would never pass up the opportunity for a story and Janie felt certain Laurel would never understand how Janie could.
“I see... But not liking someone doesn’t necessarily disqualify you from interviewing them. Reporters interview people they don’t like all the time.”
“I know, and it’s not that necessarily,” she lied. “I’d just prefer not to do this one. It’s an important article and I feel like I would need to give it all my attention, but I’ve got so much on my plate right now...” They both knew very well that Janie always had an overflowing plate, so this wasn’t much of a stretch. Janie had never used her crazy, single-mom schedule as an excuse to get out of an assignment, but she shamelessly found herself doing so now. “Reagan has his science project coming up, Gareth is playing club basketball and now with this knitting class...”
Laurel eyed her carefully. “You’re sure about this?”
“I am. I understand what an opportunity this would be, Laurel. And I really appreciate you offering it to me.”
Laurel looked surprised, and slightly suspicious. And Janie really couldn’t blame her, it would seem odd to her, too, if she was in Laurel’s place.
She added another layer to her excuse. “Tag flew to Anchorage yesterday and he was going to pick up some things Reagan needs for his science project—he had a Barbie doll on the list. The informational meeting is this week to go over the rules for the national program the science club is participating in this year. I can’t wait to see what he has planned.”
Laurel laughed and Janie was relieved when she allowed the subject to change. “A Barbie, huh? At least it’s not battery acid. I thought Principal Dundee was going to call the cops last year when he saw those bones in the bottom of that bucket.”
Janie grinned and shook her head. “I know.”
Last year Reagan’s experiment had tested the corrosive properties of different types of acids. The high point had involved actual moose skeletons, which his Uncle Bering had procured for him. A series of large, high-resolution photos showed how Reagan had managed to melt the bones down until they fit into a five-gallon bucket, the contents of which he’d proudly displayed in his booth—along with another bleached moose skeleton of similar original dimensions that he’d arranged on a table for size comparison. The line to get a glimpse had formed all the way out the door and around the side of the VFW hall.
“That kid...” Laurel chuckled. “What did he think of Aidan? I know how excited he was to meet a real-life scientist.”
“Already thick as thieves. Reagan is ecstatic to have him here.” Something made her add, “He was actually pretty nice to Gareth, too.”
Laurel tapped her fingertips together thoughtfully. “Well, that says something about the guy, right? That he was a hit with your boys?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Janie said, acquiescing. She thought about how he’d gotten the ball to Gareth so he could score the winning basket. He didn’t have to do that, and yet she’d also heard what she’d heard. And he never did apologize for ruining the cake...
Laurel sat frozen in her thoughtful-reporter pose, palms together, fingers tilted in Janie’s direction.
Janie racked her brain for something that might derail Laurel’s train of thought.
“I’m meeting Shay at the bakery later to sample wedding cake...”
* * *
ONE PROBLEM SOLVED, Aidan thought as he directed Bering, Tag, Gareth and Reagan as to where to put the boxes. The plane had arrived at seven as scheduled, and the entire shipment fit in the back of one of Bering’s full-size pickups. By nine thirty they were unloading the boxes and stacking them in Aidan’s rented building. Emily had found the vacant building on the edge of downtown before he’d arrived and Aidan could not be happier with her choice. His sister was truly a wonder of efficiency.
The brick structure consisted of one large, rectangular-shaped room with worn hardwood floors, and a kitchen area was situated along the far wall complete with a small refrigerator. There was a bathroom on one side of the room adjacent to a walk-in storage area with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Lucky for him, Rankins had no restrictions on what the space could be used for—yet another reason to like this little town, because he intended to both live and work in the space.
Aidan already had a cot set up in one corner of the room to sleep on. He’d purchased it, along with a sleeping bag, for a surprisingly reasonable price at Bradbury’s, the hardware/sporting-goods store that was also a computer repair shop that Bering had recommended in town. Aidan had mentioned Bering’s name while shopping and he suspected it had helped in determining the final discounted sale amount.
Somewhere during the building’s history a second sink had been installed along the wall opposite the bathroom. With the addition of a few tables and some lighting, that area would serve as his lab. Emily had already found him a desk for his computer and a comfy secondhand office chair. She and Bering had recently bought new furniture so Bering had hauled over their two gently used recliners for him to use as well.
Aidan opened a carefully packed crate and found his favorite microscope intact. In another box he discovered that his video camera also looked fine. He plugged in the battery pack with the intention of testing the camera out later, but he realized he was going to need help setting up some of his equipment.
Bering came through the door again, followed by Gareth and Reagan, each holding boxes that they added to the pile.
“This is the last of them, Aidan.”
“I can’t thank you guys enough. How about if I buy everyone breakfast at the Cozy Caribou?”
That suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement. Reagan walked over and inspected the microscope. “Wow, awesome microscope. What’s the magnification?”
As Aidan discussed microscopes with Reagan something occurred to him. “Do you boys think you could spare a few more hours after breakfast? I could use some help getting unpacked.”
“Yes,” Reagan said excitedly.
“No, sorry, I can’t,” Gareth answered politely.
Bering glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Gareth is playing basketball. I’m supposed to drop him off in an hour. But Reagan can stay if he wants. Emily or I can swing by and pick him up this afternoon. I’ll call Janie and let her know. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
Aidan wasn’t nearly as sure, but he was desperate enough for help that he put that thought aside. Surely the misunderstanding between him and Janie wouldn’t extend to her children.
* * *
THAT SAME AFTERNOON Aidan strolled down the main street in Rankins admiring some of the old buildings and the homey feel of the town. The sun had disappeared behind a patch of clouds, which seemed to instantly lower the temperature. The chilly air began creeping into his open jacket and he wondered how long it would take him to acclimate to the cooler weather. He reached for the zipper, felt his stitched-together fingers throb painfully and switched hands, reminding him again of his predicament—and a possible solution.
Reagan had been a world of help to him, which had prompted him to ask if he’d like to assist him on a regular basis—at least until his hand healed.
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Carol Ross
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: You can′t always play it safe With four sons dependent on her, Janie Everett needs to keep her life uncomplicated. Now famous scientist Aidan Hollings is disrupting her orderly world, starting with the rescue of a…bumblebee.Aidan is only passing through her Alaska wilderness town, and wasn′t planning to bond with her two older boys. Or become so attracted to the widowed journalist. His globe-trotting days may be be over if he′s able to show Janie that they can share the adventure of a lifetime—together.