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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 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.