by Carol Ross
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 leane
d 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.