by Carol Ross
“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
“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 ve
ry 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.”