If Not For A Bee. Carol Ross
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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.
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.
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