Something to Witch About (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 5) Page 15

  Twenty-Three

  “Can you believe her?”

  Thistle hadn’t stopped complaining about Clove since we left the Dandridge. I was sick of hearing about it, but I would be raring to go on the topic after ten solid hours of sleep.

  “You called Landon, right?”

  Thistle’s face sobered. “Yeah. I told him I found you.”

  “You didn’t find me.”

  “Hey, possession is nine-tenths of the law,” Thistle countered, the set of her jaw grim. “You’re in my possession. I get the glory.”

  I leaned my head back against the seat. “You know how I told you that yesterday was the worst day of my life?”

  “When did you tell me that?”

  “When we were locked in my bedroom hiding from Marcus and Landon so we wouldn’t blurt out any more unsavory truths and make ourselves look like total idiots,” I reminded her. “It was in between bouts of plotting against Aunt Tillie.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Thistle said, nodding. “I remember plotting against Aunt Tillie.”

  “I was wrong.”

  Thistle’s eyes filled with sympathy – and even a few unshed tears. “Today was worse?”

  “Today was so much worse,” I said. “And I spent the bulk of it unconscious and reliving one of Floyd’s memories. He was a total dick, by the way.”

  Thistle frowned. “What do you mean you relived one of his memories?”

  “It was him, the poltergeist him, anyway, who spooked the horses,” I said. “I woke up twice. The first time was in his memory.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Sam,” I replied.

  “I knew he was a tool.”

  I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. “He’s the least of our worries right now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, we can only focus on one catastrophe at a time,” Thistle said. “Getting you home is all I can handle right now.”

  “Right.”

  “After that, though? I’m going to beat the crap out of Clove.”

  “That sounds like fun. I’ll help.”

  Thistle wrinkled her nose. “Honey, if you’re this sore right now you’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

  I considered her words. “Well, on the plus side, that means I won’t have to go on another uncomfortable outing with Landon’s family.”

  Thistle giggled. “When did you turn into a glass-half-full girl?”

  “Sometime in Floyd’s wretched and horrible memory I guess.”

  “Oh, yeah, what did you see?”

  I told her, recounting everything to the best of my ability. When I was done, Thistle looked more confused than when I started. “I don’t understand.”

  “Join the club.”

  “It sounds like Aunt Tillie was protecting Mrs. Gunderson.”

  “It does.”

  “Why would they hide that? That’s a noble thing.”

  I shrugged. “The only thing I can think of is that, back then, the police didn’t always believe women when they said they were being abused by their spouses. They didn’t get involved in domestic disputes.”

  “Still.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Thistle navigated her car onto The Overlook’s long and winding driveway. “Are you going to ask her about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tonight?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on what kind of mayhem we walk into when we get back to the inn.”

  “You seem a little … beat up,” Thistle said. “I’m still not sure the hospital isn’t the best way to go.”

  “I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’m hurt, but I’m going to be fine.”

  “I know, but … .”

  Thistle’s headlights lighted up the front porch of The Overlook, flashing on Landon’s tense form as he paced. The passenger door was opening before Thistle killed the engine. Landon knelt down, fixing his soulful eyes on me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been worse,” I admitted, instantly feeling better when I saw the concern etched on his face. I reached over and disengaged the seatbelt, letting Landon pull me to my feet and into his arms. My body resisted the movement, causing me to groan.

  Landon held me tight for a second and then pulled away, keeping his hands on my arms so he could look me over. “What happened to you?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Landon pursed his lips. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

  “Not really. I was unconscious for a while. What happened?”

  “The horses all spooked all at the same time,” Landon said, biting his lower lip. “I didn’t go after you … I thought you would be okay. You’re used to horses.”

  He looked guilty, but that seemed inappropriate. He wasn’t the one who spooked the horses.

  “I went after my mom and Aunt Blanche,” Landon said. “They were fine, though. The horses settled down pretty quickly. Everyone was fine – a little rattled, but fine. I had no idea where you were.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I had no idea where I was either.”

  “I figured you would go back to the stables,” Landon continued, his eyes roaming my body. “I kept everyone on the trail. I figured you would either catch up to us or go directly back to the stables.”

  I’d never seen him so pale. His skin was standing in stark contrast to the darkening sky.

  “You weren’t at the stables,” he said. “Marcus said not to worry. He said you knew what you were doing. He said you’d been riding horses since you were a little kid.”

  I reached my hand to cup the side of his face. “I’m fine.” That was the truth. Mostly.

  “I waited. I waited for an hour. I waited too long.”

  “Landon … .”

  “The horse showed up,” he said, ignoring my attempts to soothe him. “The horse showed up without you. That’s when Marcus started to panic – which made me panic.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, trying to ignore how lame the words sounded.

  “I’m a trained professional,” Landon said. “I’m not supposed to panic. I panicked, though.”

  Crap. He was losing it. I glanced at Thistle for help, but she seemed as lost as I was.

  I tried to keep my voice light. “It wasn’t a big deal. The horse threw me and I lost consciousness for a little while. When I came to, I walked to the Dandridge and called Thistle for help.”

  Landon’s hands tightened on my arms. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  I shifted my lips to the side ruefully. “Honestly? I don’t know your phone number.”

  Landon’s face was unreadable, but his shoulders were unnaturally stiff. “You call me all the time.”

  “Because your number is programmed in my phone,” I said. “My phone was with Ghost.”

  “Ghost?”

  “The horse.”

  Landon laughed, the sound raspy and harsh. “I would yell at you for not memorizing my phone number if I wasn’t so relieved to see you.”

  “Well, then it’s a bonus for both of us.” I pasted a smile on my face, even though attempting any expression – smile or frown – caused small pains to shoot to the lump on my forehead.

  Landon lifted his hand to the knot, touching it lightly. “This looks bad.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You said you lost consciousness. I think I should take you to the hospital.”

  “I’m not going to the hospital,” I argued. “I don’t want to.”

  “Maybe I don’t care what you want.”

  “I was thrown from a horse,” I reminded him. “I think it’s a rule that whenever you get thrown by a horse you get your own way for a full twenty-four hours. I’m invoking the rule.”

  Landon’s face was stern, but I didn’t miss the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”

  “Yup.”
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  He looked at the bump one more time before blowing out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve decided I’m not going to argue with you.”

  “Really?” This was new.

  He slung his arm around my shoulders and started leading me toward the inn. “Really.”

  “How long is this going to last?”

  Landon pushed open the door and ushered me inside. “I’m guessing it’s going to last for about thirty seconds.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Was this a trick? “Why?”

  “Bay!”

  Landon moved to the side as Mom, Marnie and Twila enveloped me with worried hugs and cries of concern.

  Of course. He didn’t want to be the bad guy. He had no problem letting them do it for him, though.

  Twenty-Four

  “Sit down.”

  “I’m fine,” I protested. They’d led me into the dining room, where Landon’s family was gathered around the table eating, but just the idea of sitting seemed like too much work. Plus, I couldn’t be sure that if I sat down my body would let me stand back up.

  “Sit down!” Mom’s tone was the same no-nonsense one she used when she accused me of sneaking off with Aunt Tillie’s wine when I was in high school.

  I slipped into my usual chair without comment, glancing to my left to find Aunt Tillie watching me. “Hey.”

  Aunt Tillie’s face was hard to read. “We were worried,” she said finally.

  I glanced at the spread on the table. Meatloaf. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Roasted Brussels sprouts. “It doesn’t look like you were worried.”

  “We didn’t serve dinner until we got the call from Landon that Thistle found you,” Marnie said.

  Aunt Tillie’s brown eyes were focused on me. “Look again.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve seen dinner before.”

  “Look again.”

  I did. That’s when I realized that the table wasn't filled with just food; no, it was filled with my favorite dishes. Twila had baked fresh rolls. My mother had baked my favorite dessert: blueberry pie. Someone had even brought out a jug of tomato juice for good measure. This was all for me.

  “I’m fine, you guys,” I said, my tone gruffer than I intended.

  Mom slipped a plate – heaped with more food than I could eat in a week – in front of me. “Eat your dinner.”

  I didn’t think I was hungry. The growling in my stomach told me differently. I felt Landon settle next to me, a similar cornucopia of food magically appearing in front of him within seconds.

  I did what I always did and scooped the mashed potatoes on top of the meat loaf, mashing them together into a pile of yummy goodness, and then took a huge bite. I groaned appreciatively, causing Landon to chuckle. “I was hungrier than I thought,” I admitted.

  “You didn’t get your lunch,” he said, rubbing the back of my neck. “You didn’t eat breakfast either.”

  I focused on my dinner. It wasn’t easy. Mom and Marnie were busy trying to clean the knot on my head, and Twila was rolling up my sleeves to get a better look at the abrasions on my arms.

  “She’s got some scratches on her arms but nothing serious,” Twila announced. “This shirt isn’t going to survive, though.”

  “I don’t like this bump,” Marnie said. “I don’t think she has a concussion, though. Her pupils are even and not dilated. We should watch her.”

  “When did you become a doctor?” I grumbled.

  Marnie ignored me. “What else hurts?”

  “Does my pride count?”

  “No.”

  I glanced over at Landon. “Are you going to help me?”

  He shook his head as he shoveled another forkful into his mouth. “No. I think you should go to the hospital. If you’re not going to do that, then I’m going to let them go nuts.”

  “What happened to me getting my own way?”

  “If you’re good, I’ll let you have your way tomorrow.”

  Thistle raised her eyebrows suggestively. “That sounds like fun. Will you make him do what I want, too?”

  Marnie straightened suddenly, glancing around. “Where is Clove?”

  Thistle and I exchanged a look.

  “Where is Clove?” Marnie repeated.

  Landon fixed me with a quizzical look. “Do you know where Clove is?”

  I rolled my lower lip into my mouth so I could think of an appropriate lie. Unfortunately, my mind wasn’t firing on all thrusters.

  “She’s out at the Dandridge,” Thistle answered.

  “Way to go, tattletale,” I muttered.

  “Why would she be out at the Dandridge?” Twila asked.

  I couldn’t help but risk a glance in the direction of Landon’s family. They’d been silent since my arrival. They all sat in front of empty plates – or partially-empty plates in the case of Connie and Blanche – watching the scene play out in front of them. I had no idea what they were thinking.

  I was surprised to see that Connie looked unsettled. If I hadn’t spent the last few days in the company of this woman, I would have thought she looked worried. I couldn’t decide whether it was my health or the fact that I hadn’t died that had her so concerned, though.

  “Bay,” Marnie said, interrupting my thoughts. “Why would Clove be out at the Dandridge?”

  I shrugged. “I have a head wound. My mind isn’t working correctly.”

  “You baby,” Thistle admonished. “Clove has been sleeping with Sam Cornell.”

  Landon’s eyebrows shot so high they practically disappeared in his hairline. “You were right about that?”

  “You knew about that?” Thistle exploded.

  “Calm down,” I said. “I didn’t find out until this morning. Marcus said he saw her walking along the trail from the Dandridge. He didn’t tell me until we were there to get the horses.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I got thrown by a horse!”

  “Stop using that as an excuse,” Thistle shot back. “It’s getting old.”

  Aunt Tillie extended her index finger in Thistle’s direction. “You need to calm down.”

  “Who says I’m not calm?”

  “I think everyone at the table can testify to that matter,” Aunt Tillie replied. “You’re all … freaked out … and I don’t like it. Sit there and eat your dinner.”

  “I don’t even like meatloaf,” Thistle argued.

  “Then eat the potatoes.”

  “Fine.”

  Landon rubbed his hand over his forehead, his shoulders sagging slightly as the weight of the day caught up with him. “Leave Thistle alone.”

  Aunt Tillie scowled. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “She’s upset,” Landon said. “She’s not really upset with Clove. She was upset that Bay was missing and, because she’s Thistle, she can’t admit what she’s really upset about so she has to bitch about everything else in the world to feel better. Right now, just in this moment, I get it. So leave her alone.”

  Aunt Tillie’s face softened, an expression that jumbled my already confused world. What the hell? “I don’t give you the credit you deserve sometimes. You’re smarter than you look.”

  Landon narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to take any of your crap right now, so don’t play me.”

  “I’m not playing you.”

  “Forgive me if I have my doubts.”

  “You’ve probably earned that right,” Aunt Tillie said.

  Landon shifted a dubious gaze in my direction. I shrugged, cringing as my aching back protested. Landon’s jaw stiffened. “Eat your dinner. You need the fuel. Then I’m taking you home and putting you to bed.”

  “Maybe she should stay here tonight,” Mom suggested. “You know, just so she’s close.”

  Landon considered the offer. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

  “What condition?” Twila asked.

  “We’re staying in the same room.”

  Mom worried her lower lip. “I could stay in the same room with her.”

  Yup,
that sounded like a great way to end a horrible day. “I’ll just go down to the guesthouse.”

  “I’m staying with her,” Landon said, shaking his head for emphasis. “No, don’t even bother arguing. I’m staying with her.”

  Mom wrinkled her nose and looked at Marnie for support. “Fine. You can stay together.”

  “So, wait,” Thistle interjected. “If you get thrown from a horse you get to sleep with your boyfriend in the main house? This is good to know.”

  “Eat your dinner,” Aunt Tillie barked.

  Landon relaxed, moving his hand back to my neck. “Everyone eat their dinner. I’m tired. She’s exhausted. You people are exhausting under normal circumstances. There’s only so much she can take.”

  “Her or you?” Thistle challenged.

  “Eat your dinner, Thistle.”

  A HALF HOUR later I found myself in the kitchen, resting my weight against the counter and fighting the urge to curl up in a ball on the floor and sleep. Landon and Mom were upstairs arguing about what sheets – and sleeping potions – were appropriate. His family had retired to their rooms right after dinner, his mother stopping next to my chair to tell me she was glad I wasn’t seriously hurt before disappearing with the rest of her family.

  I was still marveling over that little miracle.

  “I thought you’d be asleep already,” Aunt Tillie said, shuffling into the kitchen.

  “I can’t go up there until Mom leaves,” I admitted. “Climbing into bed with a guy when she’s watching is too weird to deal with.”

  “You’re in your twenties,” Aunt Tillie drawled. “In fact, you’re closer to thirty than twenty. Grow up.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad my near-death experience hasn’t affected you in the least.”

  Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “You’re obviously not dead.”

  I glanced around, making sure we were alone, and then focused on Aunt Tillie’s tiny but terrifying frame. “Something happened today.”

  “You fell off a horse.”

  “The horses scattered because of Floyd.”

  Aunt Tillie froze, her hand midway to the counter to steal a roll. “Are you sure?”

  “I saw him … it. I saw it right before it happened.”

  Aunt Tillie tapped her foot on the floor and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well this is just … undignified. What kind of asshole spooks horses?”