wicked witches 08.6 - a witch in time (20 page)

Landon shook an accusatory finger in my direction. “Hey! If I have to listen to you and Thistle tell that story about accidentally scaring the life out of me by pretending to be ghosts that night we were drunk for the hundredth time, you can listen to me wax poetic about the wondrous bacon curse.”

“Fine,” I said, blowing out a sigh. “I’m tired, too. I don’t want to fight.”

“This isn’t fighting, sweetie,” Landon corrected. “It’s called communicating. You should recognize it for what it is. That’s how this entire family gets their point across.”

I pursed my lips. “Do you consider yourself part of the family?”

Landon stilled as he slid a look in my direction. “I don’t know. Do you consider me part of your family?”

“Yes.”

Landon smiled. “That was a really good answer,” he said. “I didn’t even have to browbeat you to get it. We’re making progress.”

This was not the time for a deep discussion, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I picked now to start one, but I had to get something off my chest. “I know you think I don’t trust you, but nothing could be further from the truth. I do trust you.”

“I know you trust me, Bay,” Landon said. “The fact that you call me when you’re in trouble and refuse to lie to me even when it risks alienating family members proved that to me a long time ago. You don’t have to worry about things like that. In fact, it drives me crazy when you do.”

“I think everything drives you crazy at some point,” I teased, wiping a muddy finger down his cheek.

“You suck,” Landon said, grabbing my wrist. “If you want to get into a mud fight, though, I’m more than ready to do it. That will make you squeal and giggle. That will make me frisky. I still maintain that if we do … you know … Aunt Tillie will have no choice but to wake up because she won’t be able to tolerate watching us.”

“If this isn’t the last memory, I’ll take it under consideration,” I said. “I’m so … tired. I know it’s weird to say because we’re technically sleeping right now, but the first thing I want to do when we get out of this is take a shower. The second thing I want to do is go to sleep.”

“You’re missing the part about my pot roast.”

“Fine, we’ll take time for your pot roast,” I conceded. “Let’s find out when we are and get this show on the road. I can’t take much more of this. As much as I enjoy spending time with you, I’m starting to get this shooting pain in my head every time we jump to a new memory. That’s on top of the shooting pain in my behind when we land.”

Landon squeezed my rear end, as if testing my statement. “It feels fine to me.”

“You’re such a pervert.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I shifted my eyes to search for something for familiar. What I found was another Landon standing about fifty feet away on the side patio. He scuffed his feet against the stones and stared down. He looked … morose. “It’s you.”

Landon followed my gaze, frowning after a few moments of careful study. “No.”

“It’s you,” I confirmed. “I’d recognize that face anywhere. You need to get him to strip if you want me to recognize everything else. Huh. I wonder if I could have two Landons for a little bit. That might be fun.”

Landon glanced around, panicked. The “two Landons” comment flew right over his head. “We need to get out of here right now. We can’t watch this.”

“Why not?”

“Because … no.”

“Landon, what’s going on?” I asked, brushing his hand away when he tried to wrap it around my wrist and tug me away from the inn. “I’m too tired to run around. Let’s just wait here and see whatever memory gem Aunt Tillie wants to bestow upon us and then get to the next memory. We can’t have many left.”

“Sweetie, we can’t stay here.” Landon’s face was plaintive. “Neither of us wants to see this. I can promise you that.”

“But … .” I was dumbfounded. He legitimately seemed frightened. Sure, he’d complained – rather loudly sometimes – about a lot of the other memories. This time he looked as if he was about to lose his mind. “What is it?”

“We have to go,” Landon said, grabbing my hand. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” I said, giving in. “I … oh, look. There I am.” I caught sight of my blond head climbing the hill before Landon could distract me. It was only when I glanced between the other Landon’s sullen figure and Bay’s morose face that I realized what was about to happen. “Oh, no.”

“Bay,” Landon said, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re about to walk away from me, aren’t you?” My heart rolled. After challenging me for the truth about my witchy heritage and coming up with less than he wanted, Landon decided to end things before they even started because he didn’t think he could handle it. He wasn’t gone long, and he’d been nothing but apologetic since his return, but the memory still hurt.

“Let’s go, sweetie,” Landon prodded. “We can still leave.”

“Not if we want Aunt Tillie to let us out of here,” I countered, resigned. “We have to see what she wants us to see.”

“I don’t want to see this,” Landon said. “I really don’t want you to see this.”

“Landon, we’ve already survived this,” I said. “It can’t hurt us now.”

“I don’t believe that,” Landon shot back. “It still hurts you … and I don’t want to hurt you.”

I slipped my hand in his and turned my attention to the other Bay as she closed the distance between Landon and herself. “You aren’t hurting me, Landon. He’s hurting her.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“And yet we have to watch it all the same,” I said.

Landon sighed as wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I’m going to kill Aunt Tillie when I see her again.”

“Get in line,” I muttered.

Bay pulled up short when she caught sight of the sad Landon. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you’d be coming up for family dinner,” he answered, maintaining a safe distance between Bay and himself.

“How did you know that?”

“Clove told me when I stopped by Hypnotic today.”

Bay’s shoulders sagged, almost as if expecting what was to come, and alternative Landon looked as if he wished a hole would open up and swallow him whole. “I haven’t seen much of you the past week – except when you had me hauled into the police department to answer questions during Twila’s big death scene,” Bay said.

“I’m sure that upset her.”

“I’m still paying for it.” Bay’s chest heaved, but otherwise she remained placid and calm.

“I needed some time to think,” other Landon admitted.

“About what?”

“You. Your family.”

“You probably need more than a week,” Bay said. She was buying time because she didn’t want to hear what she knew he’d say. I didn’t blame her.

“I need to know what happened to Ken.” The other Landon was negotiating. He was practically begging me to tell him the truth.

“I don’t know what happened to Ken,” Bay said, her tone sharp. “I told you that. I saw what you saw.”

“But you weren’t surprised.”

“I was in shock,” Bay clarified. “We were almost struck by lightning. I was processing.”

“But you weren’t surprised.”

It was like watching a television show, one I desperately wanted canceled.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Bay held her palms up, helpless.

“I can’t watch this,” Landon said. “I want to beat myself up.”

“Me, too.” I offered him a watery smile.

“I know you’re hiding something, Bay,” the other Landon said. “You either can’t or won’t tell me, though.”

“And what do you think I’m hiding?”

“It has something to do with your family,” alternative Landon replied. “And it’s more than that pot field your aunt’s hiding out in the woods.”

“You know about that?”

“I saw it the night I stumbled on your little ritual.”

“I almost forgot about that night,” Landon said. “I wish we could see that horror movie instead of this one.”

“Even with the rampant nudity of my mother and aunts?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to report them?” Bay asked, her voice cracking.

“No.” The other Landon sighed and tugged a restless hand through his hair. He still did that when upset or flustered. “I don’t want to get on your Aunt Tillie’s bad side. I have a feeling that wouldn’t be in my best interests.”

“Probably not.” Bay turned her attention to the sky. She was obviously fighting off tears.

“I like you,” alternative Landon said, exhaling heavily. “You’re funny. You’re weird. You’re ridiculously loyal. You’re also hiding something from me. I need you to trust me and tell me the truth.”

Bay’s internal struggle was obvious. She wanted to trust him, but she didn’t know him well enough to risk her family. I wanted to yell to her, tell her to confide in him. That would make things better. That’s not what happened, though.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” The other Landon was reaching the end.

“I don’t ... I ... I don’t have anything to tell you,” Bay said lamely. “I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”

“I guess not.”

The duo lapsed into uncomfortable silence, and I took the opportunity to rest my head on Landon’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” I whispered.

“It’s not, but it will be,” Landon replied. “It’s almost over now.”

“I thought I heard voices.” Aunt Tillie appeared on the patio behind Landon, although her eyes were fixed on Bay.

“Aunt Tillie,” the other Landon greeted her with a wary countenance.

“Are you coming in for dinner?” Aunt Tillie’s question was pointed. She already knew the answer, but she wanted him to say it. She wanted him to admit he was leaving.

Clove and Thistle wandered out to the patio after Aunt Tillie, watching the situation unfold with unveiled interest.

“Not tonight,” the other Landon said, forcing a smile in Bay’s direction. “Maybe some other night. I have some things to think about. I have some things to do.”

“Well, you should go do your important things then,” Aunt Tillie said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We don’t want anyone here who doesn’t want to be here.”

The depressed Landon met Aunt Tillie’s heavy gaze. “I’m going.”

Aunt Tillie took a step toward him, never letting her gaze waver from his face. “And remember, we may forgive, but we never forget.”

Despite the horrible scene, Landon chuckled. “I thought she was going to find a way to kill me in my sleep.”

“I’m sure she was thinking about ways to do just that before you came back,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. She likes you now, even if you are ‘The Man.’”

Aunt Tillie grabbed Bay’s hand and started pulling her away from Landon. Poor Bay. She wanted to look at Landon. She wanted to beg him to stay. She did neither. Instead she focused on Aunt Tillie. “When have you ever forgiven someone?” Bay asked.

“Stranger things have happened,” Aunt Tillie said, adopting a soothing tone. “Don’t worry, dear. He’ll be back. He’s a man. They have to figure things out on their own. And, because he’s a man, it will take him twice as long as it would take a woman.”

Bay didn’t look convinced. “How can you be sure?”

“If he’s not, I’ll curse him until he wishes he made the right decision from the beginning.” Aunt Tillie’s answer was simple. “They always come back, dear. We’re like a fine wine. We’re addictive – and he’s already addicted. He won’t know until he starts to go through withdrawal. It won’t take long, though.”

“I hope it hurts,” Thistle said grimly.

“It will,” Aunt Tillie promised. “You can be sure of that.”

The other Landon was halfway down the hill, his head hanging low. He glanced back twice, but Bay was already gone. The real Landon and I were the only ones left.

“I am addicted to you, Bay,” Landon said, and when I risked a glance at him I found his eyes swimming in tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not to blame,” I said. “Neither one of us was to blame in this situation. I didn’t know you well enough to tell you the entire truth, and you didn’t know me well enough not to think I was crazy.”

Landon barked out a hoarse laugh. “I’m still sorry.”

I leaned forward and rested my head against his chest. “I’m sorry, too.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Landon said. “I should’ve had faith in you. My heart kept telling me to stay. My head is … dumb … sometimes, though.”

“I like your head,” I said, pressing my eyes shut as the colors started blurring. “I want to go home.”

“We’re going home,” Landon vowed. “If I have to track down Aunt Tillie myself and strangle her until she gives in, we’re going home. Enough is enough.”

People talk about revenge as if it’s a bad thing. It’s not a bad thing. It’s a good thing. If people don’t fear you, you’re not doing your job right. I’m the best employee in the world for a reason. It’s because I never skimp on the revenge.

– Aunt Tillie explaining to Bay why fear is better than respect in the workplace

Eighteen

We arrived on the kitchen stools moments later, my head still pressed against Landon’s chest. It was almost as if Aunt Tillie was doing us a kindness – well, for her, that is – when she gave us a soft landing after the gut-wrenching prior memory.

“Oh, good, we’re in the kitchen,” Landon said, frowning when he found himself staring into my mother’s troubled eyes. “Hi, Winnie. Can you see me?”

Mom went about stuffing cabbage rolls as if no one else was in the room.

“I guess that answers that question,” Landon said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Landon,” I said, shaking my head. “I already knew that happened. I didn’t forget it.”

“That doesn’t mean we needed to see it again,” Landon complained. “We need to find Aunt Tillie. I’m done with this.”

I reached across the counter and retrieved a strip of bacon from the plate there. I wordlessly handed it to him as a peace offering. In my head I knew this wasn’t my fault. My poor heart, though, couldn’t help but flop with guilt. He deserved better than this.

Landon took the bacon and offered me a genuine smile. “Do you think I can really eat this?”

“There’s no harm in trying,” I replied. “You missed out on your cake earlier.”