by Carol Ross
“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 immediat
ely 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
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.