If Not For A Bee. Carol Ross
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 leaned 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.