by Carol Ross
“I know. I wanted to. But I’m pretty sure you’re going to like this. I think you’ll all like it. Also, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Reagan stepped into the entryway. “Aidan, hi! I’ve got my third section working perfectly, but I’m still having serious problems with the voltage on my Van de Graaff generator. Can you stay for dinner? We’re having spaghetti. My mom makes killer meatballs—they’re like this big.” He shaped his fingers into a large circle.
Aidan Hollings eating dinner at her table and electrocuting who-knows-what with her son? No, it was too...much. He paused and Janie felt relieved because she thought that meant he was going to decline and save her from having to make an excuse for him.
“Sure. Dinner sounds great. Spaghetti is one of my favorites.”
Reagan grinned. “Mine, too. Mom, how long until dinner?”
Janie realized they were both now looking at her. “Um, about an hour?”
“Okay, Aidan, come on. I’m all set up in the garage.” Reagan took off down the hall toward the back door.
What choice did she have here? She motioned at the bag he held. “Do you want me to take that?”
“I’ll wait until after dinner. Can I just set it out of the way somewhere?”
“Yes, sure, in the kitchen would be best to keep the kids out of it. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I have some good news for you.”
“Oh?” Janie couldn’t possibly begin to imagine.
“I’ve decided to do the interview.”
Janie wondered why this was good news for her?
He shrugged, his face sporting a lazy half grin. “I, uh, I wanted to do something to try and make things up to you, so I told Laurel I’d do the interview. Emily is really excited. My agent is thrilled, too. So, yeah, congratulations.”
Janie tried not to gape. Too? Like she was supposed to be grateful and excited in addition to Laurel, Emily, his agent and whoever else because he’d bestowed this honor upon her? Like some kind of prestigious award? She stared at him and tried to decide what to say. She wished she could scoot him right back out the door and pretend this wasn’t happening. She glanced over at Reagan, who had doubled back and now stood waiting patiently in the hall.
Lucky for her she did have an out.
“Well, that’s great for Laurel and Emily and...whoever. And I appreciate the gesture, but I’ve already told Laurel to assign someone else to the interview if you, um, decided to...agree. I thought we would both be more comfortable with that under the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?”
“Yes—”
“You know what?” Aidan held up a hand toward her like he was trying to stop traffic. “We can talk about this later.” The self-assurance in his voice made her bristle.
She infused her tone with a heavy dose of fake sweetness. “No, that’s okay, we don’t need to do that—to talk about it. I’ve made it very clear to Laurel that I’m fine with not doing the interview.”
He nodded. “We’ll talk.” He said it like a man used to getting both the last word and his way, but he was in for a surprise. He could last-word her until he was blue in the face, but he would not get his way.
His attention was now focused on Reagan, who was saying something about the composition of Barbie hair. Janie didn’t even want to think about what that meant.
“Sounds very cool. Let’s go take a look at that generator.” Aidan flashed another proud-of-himself grin before following Reagan down the hall.
Janie moved back into the kitchen to find the sauce boiling and splattering all over the stove top. She silently and irrationally blamed Aidan as she turned down the temperature and mopped up the mess.
She set about defrosting the meatballs. A peace offering? And agreeing to do the article like she was some kind of charity case? He obviously felt guilty, and how mortifying. She wanted to forget everything that had happened between them and just...pretend like everything was fine. This was the opposite of forgetting—coming over here with his “good news” and a “peace offering.”
She was mangling some garlic cloves and mumbling to herself when her mother came strolling into the kitchen with a fussy Finn cradled in her arms.
“Look who woke up already. Why don’t you take him and let me finish that?”
“That would be great, Mom.” She took Finn in her arms. Her poor little guy—he was definitely coming down with a cold, or worse. “He sounds so congested. I’ll give him a dose of medicine after dinner.”
She exited the kitchen when another knock sounded on the door.
This time it was followed immediately by a voice—Shay’s voice. “Hey, it’s just me. Yum, something smells delicious.”
Janie met her in the hallway.
“Shay, hi! What are you doing here?”
“Jonah is playing poker with Caleb and Doc, so I thought I’d pop over—I hope that’s okay?”
Janie grinned, knowing very well that Jonah’s poker matches with his grandfather Caleb and his friends could last for hours. “Better than okay—can you stay for dinner?”
“Are you kidding? Love to.”
Janie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You’re thanking me for you offering me dinner? How very like you, Jane Elizabeth.”
Janie lowered her voice. “Aidan Hollings is here.”
Shay shook her head and looked confused. “What does that—”
Janie whispered, “I’ll explain later.”
Thankfully, Shay ran with it. “Okay,” she whispered in return, before switching to her normal tone. “Do you want me to set the table?”
The addition of Shay at dinner was a godsend to Janie. Aidan spent most of the meal talking to her mother and Reagan. Gareth and the twins adored Shay and vied for her attention so Janie didn’t feel compelled to make small talk.
After dinner was over, Shay helped Claire with the dishes while Finn fell asleep in Janie’s arms. The boys headed for the family room, and Janie tried to ignore the pang in her heart at the sight of Gabe giggling in Aidan’s arms.
Finn finally dozed off so she put him down. She made tea for her mom, Shay and herself and they discussed Shay’s upcoming wedding, the PTO fund-raiser, and how great the newly constructed community center was turning out to be.
Soon Claire said her goodbyes, kissed and hugged the boys and headed out the door. Gabe toddled into the room and crawled up into Shay’s lap and promptly fell asleep. Janie felt a wave of relief as she realized the end of the evening—meaning Aidan’s departure—was imminent.
Janie and Shay were still seated at the dining room table when Aidan came in with the boys.
Shay stood with Gabe. “I’m going to go put this little man down.”
Janie smiled at her. “Thanks, Shay.”
Janie calculated that Aidan should take that cue and start heading for the door.
Instead he lifted his hands and said brightly, “I almost forgot about my surprise. I brought dessert.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
When he stepped back into the room with the familiar-looking bright pink box Janie felt a stab of unease, which amplified dramatically as Lilah’s parting question from yesterday about second chances came roaring back to her.
She should have insisted on taking the bag when Aidan arrived and peeked inside. If she would have seen the box she would have figured it out and she could have...
Reagan said, “Oh, yum—it’s from the Donut Den.”
Janie’s eyes darted toward Gareth, expecting him to look wary as well. But he didn’t. He looked excited about the prospect of dessert. And suddenly the scene seemed to be unfolding in one of those slow-motion-type nightmares, leaving Janie frozen with panic and yet powerless to stop the impending disaster.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR THE SECOND time that evening Aidan stood in front of her wearing the same self-satisfied smile. But the problem this time was that his actions weren’t just going to affect her—he was about to hurt her children. Like the wave at the beach, she could see it coming, but now it was vital that she stopped it before it doused them all.
She blurted, “Aidan, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Sure, hold on a sec.”
She pierced him with a look she was sure would stop a normal person in their tracks. But, of course, she wasn’t dealing with a normal person—she was stuck with some kind of...socially bereft genius.
She tried again. “Aidan—”
But it was too late. He was already opening the box. He proudly placed the dessert on the table. “I felt really bad about the other day so I placed my own special order. Boston cream pie—dairy-free, made with almond milk.”
Gareth’s face fell along with Janie’s stomach.
Janie had no idea how to handle this extraordinarily uncomfortable situation. She certainly didn’t want to explain. Would not explain, in fact, because she felt doing so would be like a betrayal of Gareth or Cal or...all of them. She really, really wished this wasn’t happening.
A wellspring of anger rose within her. Why couldn’t he have dropped it like she’d asked him to? There were things in this world that just happened and there were things in this world that couldn’t be fixed. She’d accepted that. To say she’d learned this lesson the hard way was the understatement of the century. She assumed that by adulthood most people had. But somehow in all his years of formal education and world travels and “life experience,” Aidan Hollings had not learned this?
Janie put her head down and massaged her temples.
The timing for this little stunt could not be worse. Gareth had seemed to be rebounding after his dad’s birthday fiasco a few days before, and Janie had been happy that she had a respite for a couple months before the Father’s Day pancake breakfast rolled around.
Shay entered the room. “Hey, did someone say...” Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at the table where they were all staring at the Boston cream pie. “Dessert? Oh, no...”
Gareth kept his eyes glued to the cake as he stood up. He backed away from the table. “May I be excused, Mom?”
“Absolutely,” Janie said.
He walked from the room with more dignity than Janie would have thought possible, certainly more than she would have had herself.
Janie could see the mix of pain and confusion on Reagan’s face as he looked at Aidan. Then his gaze flickered toward the doorway where Gareth had just exited. Janie imagined him being torn between following his brother and trying to make Aidan feel better.
“Um, Mom, is it okay if I’m excused, too? I’m really full from dinner.”
Janie nodded, secretly pleased by his choice, by this show of brotherly support.
He politely addressed Aidan. “Thank you for the, uh, cake, Aidan. And thanks so much for the help with my science project.” He paused for a second and the earnest yet uncomfortable expression on his face made Janie want to cry. “Can you talk to my mom about me helping in your lab? I really want to.”
“Of course, buddy.”
Janie repeated the words in her head—helping in his lab? What? No! Her entire body tensed. Why would he ask her eleven-year-old to work with him before clearing it with her first? Shay reached out and took hold of her wrist. She squeezed and that prompted Janie to inhale a deep breath—and another—as she tried to decide what to do, what to say...
Aidan seemed uncomfortable, too, and a bit baffled, and under different circumstances Janie might have felt sorry for him. But she felt too sorry for her boys, and for herself, to let any other sorry seep in.
“I’ve messed this up somehow, haven’t I?” Aidan shifted his weight from one foot to the other for a few long seconds. “Is someone going to tell me what in the world is going on?”
At that moment Finn’s squeal lit up the baby monitor and Janie had never felt so grateful for a child’s cry in her entire life. She bolted from the room and when she returned several minutes later Aidan and the Boston cream pie were both, thankfully, gone.
Janie found Shay in the living room with MacGyver snoozing at her feet. She plopped down beside her cousin on the kid-worn, cat-scratched, oversize sofa.
Shay pulled up a knee and shifted so she was facing Janie. Her face held a mixture of worry and concern. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on? I’m assuming it’s not a coincidence that Aidan showed up here with Cal’s birthday cake? And why is Aidan Hollings showing up here at all—without Emily or Bering?”
Janie grimaced. “Where is it—the cake?”
“After I escorted Aidan out, I stuffed it in a brown paper bag and put it in the garbage can in the garage.”
“Thank you.”
“What choice did I have? You were all staring at it like he was trying to serve us up a piece of roadkill.”
Janie snuffled out a laugh in spite of the situation.
“Janie, when Jonah came back to town I could barely think straight—so many emotions were bouncing around inside of me. You are my best friend, and you never proved it more than then—except maybe when I had the miscarriage. But my point is that you are always there for me—you are my comfort and my voice of reason. Let me be that for you. Tell me what’s going on.”
Janie stared at Shay. “Okay, first of all, please don’t compare this situation to you and Jonah. You guys are a love story. This...” She gestured as if Aidan was standing right in front of them. “This is a comedy of errors.”
* * *
GARETH WATCHED AS Crosby turned his funny cat circles and finally curled into a ball for a nap on his chest. He winced as he thought about the look on his mom’s face when she’d seen the Boston cream pie. For someone as smart as Aidan Hollings was supposed to be, bringing that dessert seemed like a pretty clueless move. Although Reagan had a point when he said that likely Aidan didn’t know what the Boston cream pie meant to their mom—or to them.
Obviously Reagan was crazy about Aidan, so naturally he would stick up for him. Talk about simpatico—Reagan seemed to have met his soul mate there. And that was good because Reagan needed someone...
Gareth stuck up for him at school but sometimes he couldn’t help it and he found himself wishing his brother wasn’t quite so...odd. Even being odd was okay, if he wouldn’t show it so much. For starters, he needed to quit talking about snot and boogers and other disgusting stuff in public. Harmon Vetcher hated Gareth and had it in for Reagan, and Gareth was afraid that one of these days he wouldn’t be there to protect his brother.
Gareth had his quirks, too, but he was wise enough to keep them to himself. Like his midnight raids.
He would be making one tonight. He sort of didn’t feel like he had a choice—sometimes it was the only thing that made him feel better. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t explain it, this compulsion of his. He wondered if it was an addiction. He reminded himself to do an internet search tomorrow about addiction. He knew from this TV show he watched sometimes that people could get addicted to some really weird stuff.
But this wasn’t that weird, was it?
Gareth couldn’t talk to his mom about it because he knew it would upset her. She had certain expectations of him, and he was trying his hardest to live up to them. His mom, his brothers and his dad—even though his dad wasn’t here, Gareth knew he would want him to act like a man—were all counting on him and he didn’t want to let them down.
* * *
SHAY’S EYES WERE wide when Janie finished the accounting of all of her dealings with Aidan Hollings to date. Janie actually chuckled as she watched her cousin trying to find words—finding words
was Shay’s strong suit.
“So... He... That’s why he has the bandage on his hand? Clam digging?”
“Yep, he now has eight stitches in the fingers of his left hand, for which I feel slightly responsible. And Reagan just now confirmed with me that Aidan asked him to help him in his lab because he can’t use his hand. How am I supposed to say no to that? But who asks an eleven-year-old to work with him without consulting his mother? It’s bad enough that Reagan worships the ground he walks on—something I encouraged before he actually came to town and we met him and I heard him...” Janie’s voice trailed off with a shake of her head.
“Um, first of all—what are you going to do about the interview?”
“Nothing, thank goodness. I already told Laurel I don’t want to do it.”
Shay nodded, pondering. “I’m so glad Gareth didn’t get stung. I don’t like that ‘mommy’ comment—like it’s an insult to be a mom? Or that it means that’s all you can do? Your column is awesome and you’re the best mom I’ve ever seen.”
Janie laid back her head against the sofa cushion and stared at the shelf above the television, where there was an assortment of photos and knickknacks. She noticed a cobweb stretching between a photo of Gareth, Reagan and Cal hamming for the camera on the bow of one of Uncle Ben’s boats, to a vase that Gareth had made for her in second grade. How long had it been since she’d dusted? She couldn’t even keep up with her children, much less the housework. Her boys all looked so happy in that photo. How long had it been since they looked that happy? How long had it been since they’d been that happy?
She blinked back tears and turned her head toward Shay. She lowered her voice even though she knew the boys were in their bedroom with the door shut.
“I don’t know anymore, Shay. As the boys get older I feel like they are having all these thoughts and feelings that I’m not privy to, which of course they are. But I feel like I’m out of touch with them, like I can’t relate, like I don’t know what to say anymore.” This time the tears spilled over and she wiped at them with her fingertips.
This was difficult to admit, but she needed to get it off her chest. “And I feel like maybe Gareth is still having some issues. It’s been three years—he should have come to terms with his dad’s death by now, shouldn’t he?”