Chapter 13 Knee-Deep in Branches
JADE
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LEMON WATER SLOSHES from the glasses on my tray as I navigate the rocky driveway outside the lodge.
I step onto the uneven ground past picnic tables and small gazebos. I slip through the trees and spot my sisters. Wrapped in blankets, they slouch in wicker furniture under the central pergola of the shared living space we call The Hive.
Once guest quarters, the five cabins surrounded by a thick tree line, now serve as homes to my sisters and me. Tucked away from the bustle of the main lodge, but still just a short walk away.
“Good morning.” I step over a pile of toy horses belonging to my nephew. My plan of bribery to get out of a certain bet I lost last night, thanks to a certain spiteful cowboy, is back in motion.
“There’s nothing good about this morning.” Natalie rubs her temples, head leaning back on the burnt orange cushion.
“Can y’all turn your voices down to like a two?” Josie pulls the blanket over her head.
“I think I’m going to throw up.” Hannah sits up, clutching her stomach.
Natalie tosses a sand pail at her, the tiniest vomit bucket I’ve ever seen.
I stay back.
The pail hits Hannah’s knee, and she holds up her hand. “Wait. No. Maybe not.” Then she gags.
Josie gags.
Now my stomach turns a little queasy.
Finally, Hannah lets out a breath. “False alarm.”
She slumps back in the chair.
“I come bearing gifts.” I set the tray on the wicker coffee table in the center of the outdoor furniture.
“It’s a trick.” Josie’s muffled voice pushes through the quilt. “Don’t believe a word she says. She’s a conniving witch who spins you into bad decisions and horror aftermaths.”
I didn’t know Josie could be any more dramatic, but hungover Josie takes first place.
“Lemon water with a pinch of salt, iced herbal tea, dry toast you can add butter, ham, or honey to, and Advil.” I point to each as I name them off, and then I start handing out drinks.
“How are you not hungover?” Hannah takes the glass of iced herbal tea with both hands, as if it’s taking all her effort.
This concoction is her go-to for hangovers. At least, it had been before she had kids when she played the part of the middle child well—the wild partygoer who snuck out of the house to secret barn or creek parties.
Even in her twenties, she never passed up a party, until she got knocked up after a one-night stand with an asshole Ashwood.
“You drank, what, two times as much as we did?” Natalie leans toward the table for a piece of toast.
“At least.” Hannah sips her tea, slow and careful.
“She’s not human,” Josie pulls the blanket down when I stop in front of her. “She’s a hangover-immune mutant.”
“Drink this.” I extend a glass of lemon water toward her.
“What time did you get up that you were able to slip into the lodge kitchen and request all this stuff?”
“It hurts you don’t think I’d prep this for you.” The coolness of the frosted glass presses against my palm.
“Did you?”
“Yes, but first I hit the morning meeting.”
Josie groans. “She was up before six.”
“What kind of hungover person gets up before six?” Natalie grabs a packet of butter and a knife.
“Sociopaths. Or witches.” Josie takes the lemon water. “I told you she’s a witch.”
“And this.” I pull an ice pack out of my pocket.
Josie’s eyes light up as much as they can for her condition. “A good witch.”
“Not so much butter.” I point at Natalie as she scoops the whole packet onto her knife. “It’s too greasy for your stomach.”
“It’s not for me.”
Juniper, the wild skunk she nursed back to health, is perched at her feet, eyeing the toast in my sister’s hand. His left ear is a little shredded, the edges frayed from a past run-in, making it flop to the side.
Natalie lowers her hand, and the skunk nibbles on the toast. “I want to hate you, but you brought us Advil and toast.”
Josie practically melts into the middle of the wicker L-shaped sofa, placing the ice pack on her forehead and sliding the sunglasses over her eyes.
“Shhh. Why are y’all yelling?”
No contest, she’s the most ragged of all of them.
“That fireball shot is really kicking in,” I chuckle. “The one you tossed back while singing Friends in Low Places. On the table.”
“I think I still taste that fireball.” Josie tilts her head back, and her ice pack falls behind her, landing on the ground.
“Nooo. Why am I awake? Why do you guys torture yourselves like this? One or two drinks a night is plenty. This? This is a cruel joke after a fun night. I will never forgive you, Jade, for introducing me to this side of drinking.”
That doesn’t bode well for my attempt to back out of the rodeo.
I hear a screen door slam shut and glance up to see Hope leaving my cabin at the far end of the crescent-shaped row. I chose it because two oaks half hide it. There are no flower boxes, no wind chimes. Just the porch, a chair, and a fern I keep meaning to water.
Quiet.
Shaded.
Blissfully out of the spotlight.
Hope sees me, smiles, and waves before sticking something in the oversized bag hanging on her shoulder. She looks as fresh as a daisy in the pastel gingham dress cinched just above her baby bump.
She lowers herself beside Josie, looking oddly suspicious. “Good morning.” She straightens the dress over her knees.
“What were you doing in my cabin?” I ask.
“Had to use the bathroom.” She adjusts her position to reach for a glass of water.
“What’s wrong with your bathroom?” Our glasses click when I take one too, and I sit across from her
“It isn’t mine anymore. And it’s out of toilet paper.” She takes a sip, but her eyes flicker away like she’s avoiding me.
“What’s in the bag?”
She tightens her grip on the bag, clutching it firmly against her side. “Purse stuff.”
“Purse stuff?”
She nods.
“Uh-huh.”
Natalie reaches over the back of the sofa to grab Josie’s ice pack. She hands it to her and plops back down in time for Juniper to jump on her lap. He’s getting older now. Got to be going on eight years of him making himself part of the family.
Josie glares at the animal. “If he sprays—”
“Has he ever?” Natalie runs her hand over his thick white and black fur.
Josie watches him closely as she presses the ice pack to her forehead.
“Hungover Josie is very grumpy,” Natalie teases.
“Leave me alone. I’m suffering ugly today.” Josie sips her water. “That’s so good.”
“That’ll teach you to try and outdrink Jade. She’s a rock.” Natalie looks at me. “But I was expecting a little more repercussions.”
“My head is foggy. It’s taking my brain a second to catch up.” I smile. “And aside from all of that, I did have a good time last night.” Here comes my buttering-up tactics. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had that much fun, so thank you.”
“That’s perfect timing.” Hope rubs her belly in slow, steady circles. “Since you decided to come with us to the rodeo.”
Josie gasps. “That’s right. You lost the bet, Jade.” She takes off her sunglasses. “You’re all ours for a week of fun bucket list things because we guessed one of yours.”
She squeals and then presses her palms to the sides of her head, instantly regretting it. One hand still holds the glass of water, while the other grips the ice pack, and I half expect her to spill water on herself.
“Actually, Hart guessed it.” I don’t like the way Natalie says it, as if she’s almost curious about how he guessed it.
She’s always been observant.
Josie slaps her and then flinches when it hurts her. “Which doesn’t mean it’s void because Jade agreed Wildes could help. Hart is a Wilde.”
I’ll never forget it.
“He was weirdly detailed.” Juniper yawns on Natalie’s lap.
“Lucky guess.” Why did I reply so fast?
Natalie shrugs, as her nails scratch lightly behind Juniper’s ears. The skunk leans into her touch, eyes half-lidded in pure bliss. But that shrug throws a hundred accusations my way.
I set down the water I’ve been sipping on. “Listen, about that. I might have been a little too enthusiastic last night. I have a lodge to run.”
“Noooo.” My sisters stretch out in unison.
“I can’t just drop my responsibilities for a road trip.”
“Work trip,” Hannah points out. “One that you planned.”
“Planned so I wouldn’t be needed.”
“You’re not needed,” Natalie says. “You’re wanted.”
“And it’s happening.” Josie points her ice pack at me. “We’re finishing your bucket list at the rodeo, with the Wildes.”
“While that sounds fun”—it doesn’t—“I’m not going.”
They object, and I ignore it.
“Listen, I just popped in ‘cause Mama asked me to check on you guys.” I start picking up empty dishes and placing them on the tray. “And to remind Hannah that you don’t have any appointments today, and the kids are tagging along with Daddy. But to also point out you’re leaving for the rodeo tomorrow, so she assumes you’ll want to spend the afternoon with them. ”
“I do.” Hannah peels herself from the chair.
“And Josie, Mama suggested you crawl back into bed because you’re leaving tomorrow at the crack of dawn.”
“What kind of cruel joke is this?” Josie whines. “Why did you let me try to outdrink you?”
“You’re a grown woman. You don’t need my permission.” My words are short. “And you’re meeting out front of the lodge by the RV tomorrow at six sharp.”
“Which we will see you there,” Hope says.
They’ll get it when I don’t show up tomorrow morning.
“Yoo-hoo!” Comes the familiar greeting behind me.
I freeze.
Oh no.
How do I escape?
I’m tempted to run into the closest cabin to avoid the Quylt sisters headed our way.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” Hope waves.
Since when is Hope pro-matchmakers? And since when does she wave? And does she seem especially thrilled at their random dropping by?
But it’s not so random, is it? The giant casserole Faye carries says everything.
“We brought a casserole.” Bracelets loaded with keys jangle as she thrusts the dish in my hand. “For Hart.”
“No.” I thrust it back, but she doesn’t let go, forcing me to take it.
“You’re bringing Hart a casserole?” Hannah brings the ends of her blanket together to fold it.
“No.”