Landon narrowed his eyes. “You know what? I would love to see that crop. How about I go with you?”
“Oh, right, like I’m going to take a narc … planting,” Aunt Tillie scoffed.
“What kind of garden are we talking about?” Blanche asked. “I’m a master pruner.”
She did remind me of prunes for some reason.
“My balls are shrinking to the size of prunes right now,” Kenneth announced. “It’s because I’ve lost my love.”
Clove picked that moment to return to the fray. Every eye in the room turned to her as she walked into the room. Clove’s eyes clouded in confusion. “What did I miss?”
Twenty-Six
“Well, the prodigal daughter returns.”
Once glance at Marnie’s drawn face told me that Clove was in for a world of Winchester complaints, something she obviously wasn’t ready to face.
“I’m sorry,” Clove said. “I’ve been busy with work.”
Thistle opened her mouth, ready to unleash a torrent of angry recriminations, but she stopped when she saw me shake my head. Now wasn’t the time.
“Are you hungry?” Mom asked.
“I already ate,” Clove said.
“I bet you did,” Aunt Tillie said.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Clove was defensive. I didn’t blame her.
“Is something going on?” Connie asked.
“No,” I replied, grimacing as I shook my head and several pains shot through my back. “It’s just … family stuff.”
Connie nodded, glancing at Landon. “I understand. Family is important.”
She really didn’t.
I shifted my gaze to Landon. “What do you guys have planned for the day?”
“I’m sticking with you,” Landon replied. “Don’t even try arguing.”
“We’re going to go up to Mackinaw,” Connie said. “We’ve already discussed it.”
“That’s like a two-hour drive,” I said. “Are you sure?”
“We’re sure.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with them?” I asked Landon.
“I’ve seen the fort,” Landon said. “I’m happy here.”
I sucked my lower lip into my mouth for a second. “Well, I’m not going to complain about spending the day with you. Why don’t you have tea with your family and meet me down at the guesthouse in about an hour or so?”
Landon balked. “Why can’t I go with you now?”
“Because I think Thistle, Clove and I need a little … bonding time.”
Landon hunched his shoulders, clearly battling an inner demon as he tried to rein in his true emotions. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“You get whatever you want today. Wasn’t that the agreement?”
It was. I had no idea he would follow through, though.
Landon fixed his eyes on Thistle. “If she has trouble walking down to the guesthouse, I’m counting on you to call me for help.”
Thistle was already on her feet. “I got it.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“I got it.”
Landon nodded. “I’ll be down there in an hour. No one better be screaming or pulling anyone’s hair, when I get there.”
“We’ll be civil,” I promised.
“No wrestling in the dirt either.”
“I got it.”
THE WALK to the guesthouse was excruciating. I had no idea why my thighs hurt; they hadn’t during the walk to the Dandridge the previous afternoon, but now every muscle in my body ached.
We made the trip to the guesthouse in silence; no one speaking, no one yelling, no one looking at each other.
Thistle unlocked the door and waited until everyone was safely inside before unleashing her vitriol. “I don’t know why you’re acting like the victim.”
Clove jerked back as though she’d been punched. Clearly Thistle was going for the jugular. “I’m not acting like a victim.”
I settled in the armchair and watched the two of them. I figured my opinion wasn’t necessary unless things really got out of hand.
“You always act like the victim,” Thistle said. “That’s your thing.”
“Oh, yeah,” Clove challenged. “What’s your thing?”
“Anger.”
“Well, at least you admit it.”
“I am so mad at you,” Thistle yelled.
“Why? Because I tried to grab a little bit of happiness for myself?”
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
This was getting out of hand already. “Sit down,” I ordered.
Clove and Thistle did as they were told, positioning themselves at opposite ends of the couch, and occasionally shooting hateful looks in each other’s direction.
“We’re going to fight,” I said. “We’re going to do it in an orderly fashion, though.”
Clove and Thistle waited.
“Let’s start with Clove,” I said. “Why don’t you tell us how you and Sam hooked up?”
“I don’t think Thistle wants to hear about it,” Clove said, pouting.
“Well, I do. I’m in pain, so you’re going to humor me.” I was taking a page from Landon’s book, hoping it would work for me as well as it worked for him. “How did you hook up?”
“We ran into each other when I was walking one day,” Clove replied. “I’m trying to get in better shape. I told you that. I was walking the Au Sable trail and I ran into him. It was innocent.”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t,” I replied. “When did this happen?”
“Ten days ago.”
“Ten days?” Thistle was incredulous. “You’ve been hiding this for ten days?”
I shot her a silencing look and waited.
“We just walked and talked that day,” Clove said. “He has a lot on his mind. After that, we decided to walk together. Just to talk. I like listening to him. Like I said, he’s got a lot on his mind.”
“Like what?” I prodded.
“He knows what we are,” Clove said. “He’s always known. That’s why he came to town in the first place.”
“And that doesn’t tip you off that he’s up to no good?” Thistle snapped.
“He’s a good man,” Clove protested. “He was born into this world, just as we were. He knows what we are and he doesn’t judge.”
Well, that was interesting. “What do you know about his family?”
“His mother is a witch,” Clove said. “He knows about the craft.”
“Okay,” I said. “His mother is a witch. What is he? A warlock?”
“He’s a solo practitioner,” Clove replied. “He’s Wiccan, nothing else.”
“What are his powers?”
“He doesn’t really have any,” Clove said. “That doesn’t mean he’s not enthusiastic.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Thistle grumbled.
I ran my hand over my forehead, making sure to keep away from the sore area by my right temple. “Clove, how did he find out about us?”
“He did research.”
“What research?”
“The history of this area is pretty well known,” Clove said. “If you know what you’re looking for, it’s easy to ascertain who the real witches are.”
“That’s fair,” I said, rolling my eyes when Thistle leaned forward to argue. “That still doesn’t explain why he came here.”
“He just wanted to see us,” Clove said. “He just wanted to see what we could do. He wanted to see who we are. He wanted to be a part of something. He wanted to be a part of us.”
“He’s been lying to us,” I reminded her. “He came to the paper under the guise of being an investor. That means he’s a liar.”
“That’s only because he wasn’t sure how else to approach us,” Clove said. “Would you have trusted him if he came up to you and called you a witch and said he wanted to hang out?”
“No … but … .”
“We lie to people about who we are every day,” Clove pressed.
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m not saying he’s perfect,” Clove said. “He’s a man. He’s a flawed man, but so are Marcus and Landon, and you don’t have a problem with them.”
“We don’t know anything about him,” I said.
“We didn’t know anything about Landon,” Clove said. “Look how that turned out. And the risks with Landon were so much greater than the risks with Sam.”
I pursed my lips, glancing over at Thistle. “I want you to be happy.”
“Then give Sam a chance.”
“I’m not sure I trust him, Clove. He’s been so … sneaky.”
“Landon was undercover with meth dealers and you trusted him,” Clove pointed out.
“Even when he was undercover, he went out of his way to protect me,” I countered. “He was always good … even when he was pretending to be bad. Sam, though, Sam has been hiding and plotting since he came to town. He pretended to be good and then ambushed me.”
“I’m not asking you to love him,” Clove said. “I don’t. Not yet, anyway. I just want to get to know him better. I want you to get to know him better.”
“Why Sam?” Thistle asked.
“It’s not just about Sam,” Clove admitted.
“Then what is it about?” I asked.
“Loneliness.”
Her words chilled me. Landon had been right. “We didn’t mean to exclude you.”
“You didn’t exclude me,” Clove replied. “If anything, you went out of your way to include me. You kept inviting me out with the four of you, making sure I was the fifth person at dinner or the fifth person at the town dance. You both made Marcus and Landon dance with me. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”
I swallowed hard. “We weren’t trying to … single you out.”
“I know. I know that you did what you did out of the goodness of your heart. The truth is, though, I want what you have. What both of you have. I need to find it for myself, though.”
“We weren’t trying to treat you any differently,” Thistle said, her voice low.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you to be lonely,” I said. “I just don’t know that Sam is the right guy for you.”
“I don’t either,” Clove said. “What I know is that I’m interested enough to find out. Don’t I deserve that? Don’t I deserve the chance to find whether Sam is the one for me?”
Thistle and I remained silent.
“Sam and I barely know each other,” Clove said. “What we know is that we like each other. We’re comfortable with each other. We want to get to know each other better. I think you guys owe me the leeway to let me find out whether there’s something here.”
Crap. If she was going to be reasonable, Thistle and I had absolutely no reason to argue.
“I think we have to set up ground rules,” Thistle said.
Oh, this should be interesting.
“What ground rules?” Clove asked.
“I’m willing to go on triple dates,” Thistle said. “The six of us at dinner? I’m totally willing to do that.”
“That sounds okay,” Clove said. “I guess.”
“Until everyone agrees, though,” Thistle plowed on. “I don’t think he should be here. I don’t think he should be at the inn.”
Clove looked undecided. “We didn’t have those rules for Marcus and Landon.”
“We didn’t,” I conceded. “I think we should all vote now, though, about who is allowed here and who isn’t.”
“Oh, like I’m going to vote against Marcus and Landon,” Clove said. “That’s not even fair.”
“I’m not ready for him to be here, Clove,” I said. “I … we … need time.”
“I agree,” Thistle said.
“I’ll agree to those terms under one condition,” Clove said.
“Which is?”
“I want to revisit this in three months.”
“Why three months?” Thistle asked.
“Because that will give me time to get to know him better and the two of you more time to get to know him better, too.”
Thistle and I exchanged unspoken consent.
“We agree,” I said. “No more lying, though.”
“No more hiding,” Thistle added.
“Agreed.”
All was right in our small world again. For now.
Twenty-Seven
“Where’s Landon?”
Clove, Thistle and I sat on the couch watching a marathon of The Walking Dead. It was a few hours after our big “confrontation,” and everyone was trying to pretend it was a normal day.
It wasn’t going well.
“He mentioned going up to the inn to get us lunch,” I said. “I think he just wanted to get away from all of our drama.”
“I doubt that,” Thistle said. “You should’ve seen him yesterday. He was a madman.”
“I saw him with Aunt Tillie in the kitchen last night,” I replied. “That was bad enough.”
“What happened with Aunt Tillie?” Clove asked.
“Landon unloaded on her,” Thistle said. “He told her she was mean and nasty and then he made her hug Bay. It was hilarious.”
Clove looked horrified. “She hugged you? What was that like?”
“Weird,” I admitted.
“It was the highlight of my day,” Thistle said.
“I miss all the good stuff,” Clove muttered.
“That’s what happens when … .” I shook my head in warning, and Thistle wisely left the sentence unfinished.
I decided to change the subject. “Did you notice that Landon’s mother was actually nice to me last night?”
“And this morning,” Thistle said. “I think everyone was so worried that you’ve got a two-day pass to be as obnoxious as you want to be.”
“I don’t want to be obnoxious,” I countered.
“I would,” Thistle said. “Hell, you got our moms to agree to let you spend the night in the same bed as Landon in the inn last night. That’s got to be some form of divine intervention or something.”
“No way,” Clove said, her mouth dropping open.
“They brought them breakfast in bed this morning, too,” Thistle said. “It was like, ‘Here, you need sustenance for your sexathon.’ It totally freaked me out.”
“It’s not like anything happened,” I scoffed. “I was pretty much asleep before I got to the bedroom.”
“Still,” Thistle said. “Landon was so bossy last night that everyone was afraid of taking him on.”
“He did seem a little … manic,” I admitted, chewing on my bottom lip.
“He was worried,” Thistle said. “We all were. It turns out we had a reason to be worried – and that was before we found out you woke up in the memory of a poltergeist.”
Clove shifted forward. “What do you mean she woke up in the memory of a poltergeist? She didn’t tell me that.”
Thistle winced. “I forgot you didn’t know,” she said. “We obviously couldn’t tell everyone what happened in front of Landon’s family,” Thistle said. “And you weren’t here when she got home last night.”
“I was there when she turned up at the Dandridge,” Clove shot back. “She could’ve told me then.”
I focused on the television. “I’m really glad the Governor is dead. He was a real asshat.”
Thistle immediately caught on to what I was doing. “Yeah. Too bad he had to take Hershel with him beforehand, though.”
Clove wasn’t fooled. “What am I missing?”
“Who do you think will die first in the new season?” Thistle asked.
“I’m worried about Glenn,” I replied smoothly.
Clove reached over and pinched Thistle. “What am I missing?”
Thistle batted her hand away irritably. “Don’t pinch me. You know I don’t like that.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” Clove insisted.
“It’s nothi
ng,” I lied.
“Bay didn’t tell you because she doesn’t trust Sam,” Thistle said.
“We’ve gone over this,” Clove sighed.
“We have,” Thistle agreed. “You can date him all you want. What happens in this family, though, is off limits to him right now.”
Clove pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
The door to the guesthouse opened as Landon let himself inside. He was carrying a basket of food. He glanced between the three of us. “Have you been fighting again?”
“No,” Thistle said. “What did they send?”
“Sandwiches and soup,” Landon said. “Roast beef for the sandwiches and cream of broccoli for the soup.”
“More of Bay’s favorites,” Thistle grumbled. “When am I going to get my favorite foods?”
“When you get thrown from a horse,” Landon replied pointedly. “Now either shut up and eat – or just shut up.”
Thistle stuck her tongue out in response, wisely snapping her mouth shut when Landon fixed her with a challenging glare.
Once everyone had a plate in front of them, and Landon was settled in the armchair with his own lunch, conversation slowly picked up again.
“Maybe I should put a request in for dinner,” I mused.
“You might as well take advantage of it while you can,” Clove said. “It won’t last.”
“I think they’ve already decided on Polish for dinner,” Landon interjected. “They were up there stuffing cabbage rolls when I left, and Marnie was rolling out dough for pierogi.”
Thistle made a face. “I hate Polish food.”
“Bay loves it, though,” Clove said, giggling.
Landon kept his gaze fixed on the television. “I think there’s going to be a bigger crowd for dinner tonight.”
“Let me guess, Kenneth has invited himself?” Thistle asked.
“And Chief Terry,” I added.
“I believe they’ll both be there,” Landon said, still avoiding eye contact. “I think there will be three more guests, though.”
I straightened, suspicion rolling over me. “Who?”
“I’m glad the Governor is dead,” Landon said.
“Who?” I repeated.
Landon cocked his head and rolled his eyes until they settled on me. “Your fathers.”
“What? Why?”
Something to Witch About (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 5) Page 17