by Carol Ross
Flashbacks from his harrowing nightmarish days of middle school flickered through Aidan’s brain. Cruel, horrific words and embarrassing taunts, duct tape in his hair, dish soap in his lunch, a firecracker in his locker... Before he’d grown, before he’d learned how to handle this problem and before he’d figured out that his brain could be an asset instead of a liability. He hadn’t had a dad to help him, either.
Thankfully, like Janie’s boys he’d been left with a loving mother. But more important, Aidan had been blessed with a practical grandfather, who’d helped him in one critical way. The rest Aidan had figured out on his own, but it hadn’t been easy.
Someone needed to help Reagan figure it out, too. Aidan had already made the decision—that someone was going to be him.
He watched Janie carefully as he made the suggestion. “Maybe there’s something I can do.”
* * *
JANIE DIDN’T KNOW how to handle this situation. Not the one with Reagan—she’d been dealing with this kind of stuff nearly all of Reagan’s life. Aidan’s interest in the situation was the problem. She didn’t know what to make of it, which was shaping up to be a recurring theme where Aidan was concerned.
“Um, I appreciate your concern, Aidan, I really do. And thank you for coming to the meeting with Reagan. I can see that he really looks up to you. But...you don’t need to worry about us—about him, okay? I’ve got it under control.”
Aidan stared at her and Janie tried to imagine what he was thinking—that she was a bad mom because her child was bullied at school, that she was a witch because she told him she didn’t want help? But that was a lie because sometimes she did want help—she didn’t want his help.
“How do you have it under control? What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” His voice was sharp, full of disapproval.
Now she did feel like a bad mom. She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and reminded herself that he didn’t understand. He couldn’t possibly understand.
She looked at him and said with as much firmness as she could muster, “Look, Reagan is a target and I know that. But he’s a target because he’s smart. Sure, he’s a little quirky but basically he’s just smart. He’s smarter than the other kids, smarter than their parents, smarter than most of the teachers, smarter than his own mother.”
Aidan stared out the windshield for a long moment. When he turned toward her his eyes felt like two gray laser beams zeroing in on hers.
“So...what are you saying? That he’s smart enough to keep himself from being bullied? That’s not how it works, Janie.”
Was that what she was saying? No, but... It didn’t matter because she didn’t need to explain anything to him. Reagan was her child.
“I’m saying that I can handle it.” She could hear the defensive tone in her voice, but she didn’t appreciate the lecture.
His eyebrows swept up, his face covered with his skepticism. “Clearly that is not the case. If that was the case I wouldn’t have heard what I heard. I bet there’s a good chance this goes a lot deeper than you know. And there’s also a good chance that Reagan is keeping a lot of what is going on from you. And Gareth, too, for that matter, is—”
Janie interrupted. “Wait—what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you have a problem and I—”
“You know what?” She struggled for diplomacy, but blurted out, “How dare you?”
“How dare I what? Point out something you probably already know but refuse to acknowledge? And definitely do not have under control?”
She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been this angry, although a tiny part of her appreciated this concern for her children—that was the part that kept her from blowing her top.
She enunciated slowly with the hope that he’d get the message and back off. “I can handle this. I don’t need your help. Aidan, you’re not even a parent and you can’t possibly—”
“Having compassion for children isn’t limited to parenthood, especially when I know that I’m right—”
She brought up a hand and stopped him. “Okay. Stop. Please, don’t. Okay? Don’t help. Clearly, you have a difficult time with this concept, and I’m not trying to be rude but you really, really need to learn to mind your own business. I appreciate your concern for my kids, but I do not need your help or advice—in parenting or in any other aspect of life.”
Janie felt his eyes on her, assessing and critical, and she decided she knew what one of his bees probably felt like.
Finally he nodded once and said, “I can see I’ve offended you and I apologize for that. When I believe something very strongly or I’m passionate about something, it can be difficult for me to refrain from trying to...help.”
He gave her a sheepish grin and Janie knew they were both thinking about their encounter in front of the bakery.
“I hope that you will still consider allowing Reagan to work with me. I really could use his help and I think it would be good for him.” He pointed again at his injured hand.
“I’ll think about it.”
Janie got out of the car and started toward the house. Frustration boiled within her, but was quickly overshadowed by doubt—and concern. Was Aidan right? Was the situation with Reagan more serious than she realized? She wanted to do the right thing for her children. That’s all she ever wanted, but how was she supposed to know what that entailed?
Not for the first time Janie wished motherhood came with some kind of handbook or guidelines or something. One wrong move and you could mess up a child’s entire life...forever. That’s what scared her. But what about not moving? That was a problem, too.
A smiling Emily greeted Janie as she walked into Bering and Emily’s kitchen. Reagan sat at the table next to Bering, who held Violet in the crook of one arm while eating a slice of pie with the other hand. The baby looked so tiny, cuddling with her giant of a brother.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked her. “You look kind of funny.”
Janie rubbed a hand over her face. “Oh, I’m fine. Tired. Gabe now has Finn’s cold and MacGyver has to stay the night at the vet.”
“What happened? Is he going to be okay?” Bering asked.
“Dr. Kohl seems to think he will be fine.”
Janie looked up in time to see Aidan saunter into the kitchen, looking completely unruffled, like they hadn’t had a heated conversation in the car only moments ago.
“What’s wrong with him?” Aidan asked as he took a seat at the table and began dishing out a slice of pie.
“He got into a bottle of ibuprofen. I have no idea how much he ingested.”
Aidan’s brows flew. “One of your babies swallowed an indeterminate amount of ibuprofen? How did he get ahold of it? That’s awful.”
“No, Aidan...” Emily started to explain.
Janie jumped in. “The dog got ahold of a bottle of baby medicine and chewed the top off. The twins have colds.”
“Oh, I see. That’s good.” His lips curved down into a thoughtful frown. “I mean I hope the dog is okay, but medication like that shouldn’t be left within the reach of a child.”
Janie stared at him. Was he serious? The statement was so absurd she found herself sputtering out a laugh. “Thank you for that sound piece of advice—I’ll be sure and take the cough syrup out of the toy box.”
Emily laughed, too, and everyone soon joined her. Janie looked at Emily. “I’m praying it’s not another ear infection. Poor baby’s been plagued with them and every time he coughs or sneezes I get all stressed and want to race him to the ER.”
Aidan chimed in again. “Unfortunately, ear infections are unbelievably common in babies. It’s because of the short length and narrowness of the eustachian tube—makes them very susceptible to infection, especially when they have a cold,
or even an allergy. Some kids seem to be unfairly prone to reinfection, almost to the point of a chronic condition...” Aidan’s voice trailed off as he glanced around at everyone now staring at him.
“What?” One side of his mouth pulled up to form a lopsided grin. “Too much? Sorry, sometimes I get carried away.”
Janie gaped at Aidan and then at Reagan, looked questioningly at Bering and Emily and wondered if they were all thinking the same thing.
Bering spoke first and confirmed her speculation. He pointed his fork from Aidan to Reagan and back again. “Is Reagan channeling him or is he channeling Reagan? How is this working exactly?”
Aidan looked at Reagan and grinned. “Well, that’s the best compliment I’ve received in a long time, how about you?”
Reagan’s face erupted with the biggest smile Janie had seen from him in ages. He turned to Aidan and they executed a complicated fist-bump that looked to her like some kind of a gang sign. Her chest constricted so tightly that she could barely inhale a breath.
To see her son bonding with someone in this way—even if it was someone as nosy and pushy as Aidan—nearly did her in. It annihilated the remains of her anger and replaced it with...something else. She swallowed a lump of emotion and admitted to herself that there was definitely a connection between this man and her son. And Aidan really did seem to have Reagan’s best interests at heart.
She needed to get over herself and the way he made her feel and put her child first.
She made a decision on the spot. “So, Reagan—Aidan would like you to start helping in his lab right away. You guys can work out a schedule, but you need to keep up with your homework and save some time to work on your science project.”
Reagan made a fist and punched the air in victory. “Awesome! Thanks, Mom.”
Janie smiled at her son and knew at that moment that she’d made the right decision. She tried to commit the feeling to memory because she felt certain she would need to draw on it in the days ahead. She reminded herself that just because Reagan spent time with Aidan, didn’t mean she had to. Besides, she’d made it pretty clear that she didn’t need his help in parenting her children. She didn’t see how it could be possible that he hadn’t received the message.
Aidan’s earnest blue-gray eyes met hers. He mouthed a thank-you and Janie turned toward the cupboard where she knew the glasses were kept. She removed one and turned on the faucet. Why was her mouth suddenly so dry? She filled a glass and took a deep drink.
Emily said, “I bet you’re going to be busy, Reagan.”
Aidan agreed. “There is a lot to do and if Gareth is available I could actually use him, too.”
Reagan shook his head. “No good, Aidan. Gareth will never go for it. I don’t think Mom would even let him—would you, Mom?”
“Absolutely not—out of the question.”
“What? Why not?”
Janie crossed her arms over her chest to drop the bombshell. “Gareth is allergic to bees.”
But Aidan didn’t seem surprised, or even concerned. She’d expected him to look shocked, possibly apologize for his little stunt in front of the bakery last week.
Emily glanced questioningly at Aidan and then opened her mouth to comment, but Aidan asked, “Does he carry an EpiPen?”
“And he wears a medical alert necklace, too.”
“Good. But there is really very little danger of him getting stung. There are no bees flying around in the lab. They are all contained—and I only keep them for a very short period of time. Learning about them might be a good way for him to conquer this irrational fear.”
“Irrational? His fear is totally valid. He’s severely allergic.”
Janie watched Aidan’s eyes narrow like she’d noticed they did when he was trying to decide what to say. He tipped his head slowly one way and then the other. “That’s debatable.”
“Debatable? It’s a fact. I don’t think—”
“Phobias are by their nature irrational, but let’s not argue about that.” He slipped in a knowing grin. “Shouldn’t Gareth get to decide whether he’d like to work for me or not?”
“No! He’s only thirteen.”
Bering added, “He’s almost fourteen.”
Aidan leaned back in his chair. “Huh. I was working at the feed store when I was his age.”
Bering chimed in, “I started working on one of Uncle Ben’s fishing boats when I was only ten.”
“Paper route,” Emily added. “Twelve. But I was doing odd jobs at Cam-Field even before that.”
Janie exchanged a look with Bering, and then with Emily. They were both okay with Gareth working around bees? What was the matter with these people? Janie threw up her arms and let out a huff. “All right, fine. I was sweeping up hair at Meg’s Beauty Barn when I was thirteen, but I’m not allergic to hair.”
Aidan wiped a smudge of huckleberry pie from the side of his mouth with a napkin. “So, you don’t mind if I ask him?”
She looked at Emily. “You know what he does with these bees and you still believe it would be safe for Gareth?”
“Yes, as safe as anything in life can be, Janie. When he goes out in the field there are bees, of course, like there are when Gareth goes fishing or camping or up to one of the cabins.”
Her traitorous brother added, “Or outside playing football or basketball with his buddies. Bees are everywhere, Janie.”
Janie felt three pairs of eyes on her and she wanted to say no, but her desire to do the right thing for her child won out. Maybe Gareth should have the option. And, if she was being perfectly honest, a good part of her felt confident about what his answer would be anyway. In this regard at least she knew her son and she believed there was no way he would agree to work with bees.
“Fine. You can ask him, but don’t be surprised when he says no.”
CHAPTER NINE
JANIE DROPPED OFF the boys at school, knowing that Reagan’s euphoric mood had everything to do with her agreeing to allow him to work on Aidan’s project. She felt good about that even as she battled with the realization that someone else had given him this happiness.
Janie reminded herself that it didn’t matter as long as Reagan was benefitting from the experience. And there was no doubt in her mind that he would. So why did she still wish it wasn’t Aidan who was responsible? With his pushiness and his obtrusive...speeches.
She had a few spare minutes before she had to be at work, so she swung by Bradbury’s to pick up the heirloom vegetable seeds she’d ordered for her garden. She dialed Shay’s number while she waited for the salesgirl to round up her purchase.
“Hey, how are things going?”
“Great. You’ll never believe this, but Jonah didn’t really book our honeymoon to the Caribbean.”
Not sure if this was a good or bad thing Janie went with a neutral response. “Oh.”
“Yeah, he was keeping the real destination a surprise so he pretended that we were going to the Caribbean.”
“And you ruined it by having a little fit—how are you feeling about that?”
Shay snorted out a laugh. “I’d say fit is a strong word. He could see I was unhappy with the choice. You know I’m not good at hiding my feelings.”
Janie chuckled. “That I do. So, where are you really going?”
“Switzerland.”
Switzerland—that fit. Good for you, Jonah, she thought. Since high school Janie had believed Shay and Jonah belonged together. Finally they had figured it out, too.
“Switzerland sounds amazing. I’m so happy for you, Shay.”
“Thanks, Janie. Me, too. We’re hiking in the Alps. It’ll be weird hiking somewhere and not worrying about bears.”
They chatted for a few more minutes and Janie hung up when she reached the door of the Rankins Press. Only Piper greeted her.
It was a rare occurrence that she—or anyone else for that matter—arrived at the office before Laurel.
Piper gestured at the ceiling. “Can you believe this? She was on the phone when I came down and she gave me one of these.” Piper placed a finger over her hushed lips.
Piper was Laurel’s younger sister and she lived with Laurel in an apartment above the newspaper. Laurel had bought the Rankins Press fresh out of college and eventually had purchased the entire building the newspaper’s office was housed in. She’d renovated the top floor and her friends often joked about Laurel’s penthouse apartment in “downtown” Rankins. It was as close to chic as could be found in Rankins and served as a very convenient meeting place for their group of friends.
Piper placed a palm on the counter between them as if something had just occurred to her. “So...what’s going on with you and Aidan Hollings?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I heard you were with Dr. Hottie when he cut his hand. I’m not going to lie, Janie, the pickup he borrowed from Bering has been spotted at your house and there has been some speculation.”
Only in Rankins could rumors emerge this quickly. And if there were rumors, Piper would be the one to know them.
“Nothing is going on, Piper. Give it up.”
Piper snickered. “Come on, Janie. I’m in a dry spell here.”
Janie settled in at her desk, checked her email and found several questions regarding Domestic Endeavors in her inbox. This week’s column had been about planting a vegetable garden, which could be tricky but also very rewarding in Alaska’s unique climate and growing season. The column had focused on raised beds, which Janie preferred herself. She was typing an answer to the last question about the fertilization needs of cauliflower when Laurel appeared.
