“I do,” Thistle confirmed. “Trust me. He’s not running. This probably agitates him for the same reason it agitates us.”
“And that’s because … ?”
“Because we’re fried. We’ve been running around dealing with stuff we shouldn’t have to deal with and we’re emotionally spent. We’re beyond dealing with something this big, but we have to get through it if we expect to make it home.”
“And you think that’s all it is?”
Thistle’s gaze was pointed when she nodded. “I know that’s all it is. Have a little faith. Landon isn’t the type of guy to run from this. He is the type of guy to get frustrated because it’s getting forced on him and he had no input.”
Her words soothed me. “Yeah. He’s at the end of his rope.”
“Let’s just hope he uses that rope on Aunt Tillie when we get back.” Thistle flashed an impish smile. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. “I guess.”
“Not quite,” Clove countered, shuffling closer so she could plant a tiara on top of my head. She grinned when she stood back to get a better look. “Now you’re ready.”
“Oh, I really hate Aunt Tillie right now. She’d better start running before we wake up, because if we catch her … .”
“We’ll squash her like a bug,” Thistle finished. “Come on. We have to get through this if we expect to get a chance to squash her. We’ve got to be near the end. There’s very little else she can throw at us.”
Unfortunately, I was fairly certain she jinxed us with those words. I wisely kept that to myself.
Who else wants amnesia? I think it would be totally cool to wake up with no idea who you are, who your family is – especially that part because we have Aunt Tillie – but also have a husband who looks like that. That’s like my life goal now. Wait … does that make me shallow? Meh. I don’t care. I’m fine being shallow.
– Clove on her favorite soap’s new hunk
Sixteen
I heard the wedding march build to a crescendo as I followed Clove and Thistle through the church. We stopped outside the main room and glanced at one another before taking the obvious next step.
“This is kind of exciting, huh?” Clove was almost giddy. “Bay is getting married. We’re bridesmaids. This is always how I pictured it happening.”
I held up a ruffle on my dress’s skirt. “Really? You pictured this?”
Clove shrugged, unbothered. “You might hate me for saying it, but yes. I didn’t picture the ugly dresses. I pictured this moment, though.”
There was something so earnest about her expression I couldn’t help but smile. “I bet you pictured you doing it first.”
“I am engaged,” Clove agreed. “Still, you’re the oldest. Part of me thinks it should’ve happened this way all along.”
“Something tells me you won’t feel the same way when something dramatic happens to implode this fake wedding.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely still be glad you were the first when that happens.” Clove beamed. “Just think, though, we’ll be able to tell this story forever and it’s not even real. I’m kind of excited.”
I exchanged a weighted look with Thistle. She was the snarkiest member of our little trio. Even she looked mildly touched by Clove’s delight.
“Well, I’m glad you’re excited.” I pointed her toward the nave. “Now, I believe you’re supposed to march that ugly dress down the aisle.”
Clove saluted. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
“I know you will.”
I watched her go for a moment, torn. Then I looked at Thistle. “Do you ever want to smack her over the head to get her to shut up?”
Thistle barked out a laugh. “Often.”
“Me, too.”
“Not today, though,” she added. “Today she’s right. We should enjoy this for what it is.”
“And what’s that?”
“A fun memory we’ll never forget. This isn’t real, but that doesn’t mean it’s entirely fake either. Just enjoy it.”
“And if I turn that corner and Landon isn’t at the end of the aisle?”
“He will be.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m not an idiot.” Thistle lamely patted my shoulder, her attempt at solace falling short. “I’m not sure about much in life. For example, I have no idea why Aunt Tillie is still alive. She’s ticked off enough people that someone should have shot her in the face a long time ago. That I don’t get.
“Landon, though? I’ve always understood him,” she continued. “He’s at the end of the aisle. He’s here for the fake thing and he’ll be there for the real thing. The fact that you’re worried about it means you’re being a kvetch. You need to shake it off.”
I scowled, annoyed. “I’m not being a kvetch.”
“Believing Landon might not be there makes you a kvetch.” Thistle took a step back, never breaking eye contact. “He’s there. Look inside your heart. You know he’s there.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Thistle cut me off with a shake of her head.
“You’re a total kvetch and you look like a moron in that dress,” she said. “This is still your day. Er, it’s probably going to be your five minutes. You need to enjoy it.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to laugh so hard about this the next time that we get drunk it’s going to be one of our favorite memories ever.”
Oddly enough, I could picture that. “Okay.” I bobbed my head. “Let’s do this.”
“I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle. So will Landon. Have faith.”
Thistle disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone for a few seconds to gather my thoughts. I heard the wedding march blaring in the background – the organist wasn’t especially talented – and it almost drowned out my doubts. Then I thought about Landon, about his face when he smiled, and I knew Thistle was right.
I squared my shoulders and walked into the nave, my eyes instantly linking with Landon’s. He stood at the end of the aisle, clad in a cheap tuxedo, and clearly fidgeting. He stopped moving the second he saw me, as if something overtook him.
I forced a smile. This was my wedding, after all, I was supposed to be happy. And, for some reason, the look on Landon’s face caused me to relax.
I finished the walk down the aisle, ignoring the faces in the crowd because I didn’t recognize any of them, and taking the hand Landon held out for me as he looked me up and down.
“I didn’t pick the dress.”
“You still look beautiful.”
The catch in his breath caused me to jolt. “I think you might need glasses in this world.”
“I see fine.”
“The dress is a nightmare.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m wearing a plastic tiara.”
“I don’t care.”
“Thistle says I’m being a kvetch.”
Landon chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I don’t care about that either.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm, causing my stomach to do a little jig.
“So now you’re okay with this?”
“I’m very definitely not okay with this,” Landon replied. “But not for the reasons you think. It never was.”
“And what are the reasons?”
“Because this is not how it’s supposed to happen.”
“How is it supposed to happen?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t planned that far ahead. This seems almost … cruel.”
I scrubbed my hand over my cheek to keep a tear or two from escaping. “It’s probably going to get crueler.”
“How do you figure?”
“Just wait for it.”
As if on cue, the minister standing next to us began speaking. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
Landon tightened his grip on my hand. “Bay, you really do look beautiful.”
“And you
really need glasses. I appreciate the sentiment, though.”
“Here we go.”
I smiled. I could do nothing else. Then I heard it, the sound that would ruin the wedding and cause Thistle to laugh herself silly for weeks. It came in the form of a motorcycle, and when I turned in slow motion – no, seriously, it was slow motion – I found a motorcycle racing up the aisle.
Michael Ferrigno, his eyes full of fury, sat astride the bike, and he looked anything but happy.
“Oh, well, I guess I should’ve realized he was coming back,” Landon muttered. “It was too good to be true without him. If he pinches your butt, I’m totally going to slap him silly.”
I snickered as I released his hand. “It will be okay.” I focused on Michael. “How are things?”
“Really? That’s what you want to ask me?” Michael’s anger was so strong it almost knocked me over. “You divorced me!”
“I heard. That must have been … rough … for you.”
“Rough? You pledged to love and honor me for the rest of our lives,” Michael seethed. “That didn’t happen. You left me.”
“I’m sure you had it coming,” Landon said dryly.
“No one is talking to you, turncoat!” Michael snapped. “You’re the reason for all of this. You’re the reason I lost her. You’re the reason I lost the diamond. It’s you. You did this to me.” He pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Landon.
I moved to slide in front of Landon, but he was having none of it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Landon warned.
“Landon … .”
I jolted at the sound of the gunshot. It happened so fast … so, so fast. I widened my eyes as I searched Landon’s face, but he didn’t grimace or clutch at his chest. After what felt like forever – in real time it was probably only three seconds – I turned to look at the rest of the wedding guests.
Michael had been shot. He clutched at his chest and made a big show of dying. Of course, he was playing it to the extreme – there were silent movie stars who overacted less – but when he finally went down to his knees and I recognized the fake blood swimming through his fingers, I understood that someone else had fired the shot.
“I will haunt you to your dying day,” Michael rasped.
“I’m sure that will be terrible,” I said, moving my eyes to the balcony that overlooked the nave. Aunt Tillie stood there, wearing a white dress that was even gaudier than the one she’d picked out for me. The gun boasted a wisp of overdramatized smoke, and her eyes were predatory.
“There she is!” Clove stated the obvious as she stomped her foot.
“There she is,” Thistle agreed, her face twisting into an evil grimace. “Get her!”
WE GAVE CHASE.
What else could we do? Michael wasn’t real, and even though he was clearly dragging out his death scene, it wasn’t as if we cared about his fate. Aunt Tillie, on the other hand, was in control of our fates. We needed to find her – and we needed to do it now.
We opted for the back hallway of the church, figuring she would have to descend the stairs. She probably realized we were waiting, though, because she didn’t do as we initially envisioned. Instead, she crouched at the top and peered around the upstairs wall, giving herself a clear view of us.
“I had no choice,” Aunt Tillie announced. “I did what I had to do.”
“You act as if we care about what you did to Michael,” Thistle called out. “Although … he was your son on this show. Why did you shoot him?”
“He wasn’t my son. My son died long ago. His father – the devil incarnate – had his brain transplanted into Michael’s body. He thought I wouldn’t notice, but he had no idea who he was dealing with.”
Aunt Tillie fired a shot into the ceiling, causing me to drop lower as Landon covered my head.
“Why is the brain transplant story back?” Landon complained. “That was the dumbest one.”
“Really?” Thistle drawled. “I thought Chief Terry as a vampire was the top of the lame heap.”
“That one was just funny.” Landon knit his eyebrows as he watched me struggle with the back of my dress. “What are you doing, sweetie?”
“I need to get this off.”
“Why? I already said you’re beautiful in it.”
“Yes, and that was a lovely sentiment. It itches, though. Kind of like I have ants in my pants.”
“Oh.” Landon kept one eye on the stairs as he moved behind me. “Do you have anything on under this?”
“My bra and underwear.”
“And you’re going to run around in that?”
“I just need this off, Landon. I’m not lying about the itching. It’s starting to hurt.”
“Okay. Hold on.” Landon unzipped the back of the dress. It was a relief to step out of it.
Of course, because it was soap opera world and everything was surreal, I found I had a new outfit waiting for me underneath. “What the heck? I didn’t put this on.”
Landon took one look at the snug jeans and low-cut top and smiled. “That’s kind of nice.” He dipped his finger into the top and pulled it out. “Very nice.”
I slapped his hand away. “We’re getting toward the end of the storyline,” I reminded him. “There’s no way she’s going to give us time for that now.”
“I can wait.” Landon smacked a kiss against my lips.
“Why are you suddenly in such a good mood?”
“I have no idea. It’s nice, though, huh?”
“Very nice.”
“Stop focusing on each other and focus on me,” Aunt Tillie bellowed. “I’m the leading lady.”
Landon heaved out a sigh. “You’re not my leading lady.”
“I can change that.”
The meaning of her words hung like an icy curtain over the room, and Landon involuntarily shuddered. “I’m good.”
“That’s what I thought,” Aunt Tillie barked. “Now, I was in the middle of confessing why I did what I did. Stop focusing on Echo’s outfit and pay attention to me.”
“I apologize,” Landon said. “Please continue with your confession. I’m enjoying it a great deal.” He took the opportunity to look down my shirt a second time. “A great, great deal.”
“He had to die,” Aunt Tillie repeated. Luckily she couldn’t see Landon, because he was feeling a bit amorous and he opted to rub his cheek against mine rather than pay attention to whatever she was doing on the second floor. “He was evil. His father was evil, and that evil took over after the brain transplant.”
“Why would you marry an evil man?” Clove asked.
“He tricked me.”
“Really, the great and omnipotent Alexis Kane was tricked. I’m shocked.” Thistle made an exaggerated face. “By the way, why do you have a different name than your kid?”
“Because I didn’t take any of my husbands’ names. Why is that important?”
“Husbands? As in plural?” Landon moved his mouth from my neck. “How many times were you married?”
“Fourteen, and I made a lovely bride each and every time.”
Landon’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “Fourteen? You found fourteen men dumb enough to marry you?”
“I can see I should’ve shot you when I ended Michael’s torment,” Aunt Tillie growled. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”
“I think that’s rich coming from you. Still, I’m willing to forgive everything you’ve done if you come down here right now and send us home.”
Aunt Tillie didn’t immediately answer, so I stuck my head around the end of the stairwell in the hope I’d catch a glimpse of her. She’d positioned herself so she was in the exact right spot to catch my gaze.
“Hello, Echo.”
“I have to hand it to you, Aunt Tillie, you’re going all out with this one.” I worked overtime to keep my tone even. “You’re staying in character. You’ve created an elaborate storyline. Everything is coming together for us, isn’t it?”
“I have no idea what you�
�re talking about.”
“How much longer?”
“I have no idea.” Aunt Tillie’s grin was impish. “Admit it. You’re having fun, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t call it fun.”
“How can you not find this enjoyable? It’s exhilarating.”
“It’s fun for you. It’s harder for us.”
“How can you say that? Look at everything you’ve gotten to do today. You even got married.”
“Not really.” I swallowed hard. “That was almost painful.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Aunt Tillie’s eyes sparkled. “It was cathartic for you because you weren’t sure Landon would be there when you turned that corner. But he was there, and that erased any and all doubts you’ve ever had. It bolstered you.”
“Landon?” I raised an eyebrow. “I thought his name was Jericho. You just showed your hand, Aunt Tillie. I wasn’t sure until this exact moment if you were real or simply an image you inserted into the storyline. Now I know.”
“You think you know,” Aunt Tillie corrected. “You don’t know anything yet.”
“I know there’s only one way out of here, and we’re not going to allow you to escape.”
Aunt Tillie snorted. “I created this world, Bay. Do you really think I don’t have an exit plan?” She winked before disappearing behind the wall. When she spoke again, her voice was much farther away. “I always have an exit plan.”
“Crap.” Landon didn’t hesitate before bolting up the stairs.
I followed, scanning the empty balcony before fixing my eyes on the door at the far side of the space. It was ajar. Aunt Tillie had clearly escaped through it.
“I really should’ve seen that coming,” I lamented.
“Yeah, well, let’s go.” Landon held out his hand. “We have to be getting close to the end. What else could she possibly do?”
That was a scary thought.
So she somehow fell under mind control, turned into a serial killer, got possessed by the Devil and is still considered the show’s heroine? Where can I sign up for that gig? I’ve got a few ideas.
All My Witches (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Book 5) Page 16