Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Hot Spring
“I, Wyn Larsen—”
“No,” Salem interrupted. “You have to recite your full name.”
“And isn’t she supposed to be swearing on a bible?” Hadley asked.
“And take the licorice whip out of your mouth,” I commanded.
Wyn glared. “This is my ceremony. We’re doing this my way.”
“You have to swear on something at least,” Hadley said as she looked around the scattered remains of our picnic.
“Here,” Salem said, reaching into the basket and pulling out a jar of olives. “Swear on this.”
Wyn took the jar. “You’re kidding, right?”
“You could swear on the parmesan wedge,” Salem stated. “Or what’s left of the elk jerky.”
“Forget it,” Wyn said as she set the jar back into the basket. “This was a stupid idea. I’m getting in the hot spring.”
The heat wave had broken and with it came a rush of cool, crisp autumn air. We’d packed the ancient red farm truck that somehow still ran, and came out to the Powell family hot spring for an early afternoon hangout. Wyn was leaving tomorrow, so this was our last girl-time hurrah.
Wyn stripped off her jeans and sweater, revealing the one-piece swimsuit beneath her clothes.
“Poet?” she asked. “You coming?”
“Not until you swear,” I stated. “And sign.”
Wyn sighed and held up her right hand again. “I, Wyn Larsen, solemnly swear that I will not let the devil’s juice pass my lips, nor will I allow male entrance into my sacred channel lest I be smited.”
“Smote,” I corrected.
“Lest I be smote,” Wyn finished.
“Sign here,” Salem said, holding out a piece of paper and a pen. “Initial and date, please.”
Wyn took the pen and paper and used the soiled cutting board as her makeshift desk.
“Now it’s covered in jam and olive juice,” Hadley complained as she took the pen from Wyn and quickly scribbled her name.
“Pretend it’s a notary stamp,” Wyn quipped.
Salem signed and then I finished it off. I folded the paper and stuck it in the pocket of Wyn’s jeans.
“And now, for the final ritual of this ceremony, I will be cleansed in the healing waters of the hot spring.” Wyn stepped into the water and groaned. “Oh, this is good.”
“Jealous,” Hadley said, putting a hand to her belly. “I can’t wait to get in once the baby’s born.”
“Same,” Salem said. “Babies are cool and all, but man, there are things that I miss.”
“Oysters,” Hadley said.
“Sparkling white wine,” Salem said dreamily.
Hadley flashed a wicked grin. “Missionary.”
I joined Wyn in the hot spring. She floated while I perched on the smooth stone bench beneath the water.
Wyn looked at Hadley. “Tell me the story again.”
“The legend of Eamon Powell,” I murmured.
Hadley smiled. “Our great-great grandfather, Irish prospector and homesteader, cut his leg. It was bad enough he thought they’d have to amputate it, but he soaked his leg in the hot spring, and lo and behold, he was miraculously healed. Thus, the myth of the healing hot spring was born.”
“The stuff good historical fiction novels are made of,” I said with a smile, swirling my finger in the water.
“Everyone needs to make a wish,” Salem said.
“Wishes are for wishing wells,” I said. “This is a healing hot spring.”
“Magic is magic,” Hadley said with a grin. “Let’s try it anyway.”
“I’m game to try anything,” Wyn said. “But don’t you have to be in the water to activate the wish power?”
“It would probably help.” Salem rose from her camp chair, struggling just a bit, and then helped her more pregnant twin.
The two of them toddled toward the edge of the hot spring pool. Salem helped Hadley down to the ground and steadied herself using Hadley’s shoulder as she came to her knees.
Salem stuck her finger in the water. “Is this enough?”
“How should I know?” Wyn demanded. “It’s your family’s hot spring. I don’t know how this works.”
“This is very Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,” I said.
Hadley laughed. “I was thinking more Ya-Ya Sisterhood.”
“Screw that. This is Sex and the City, North Idaho style,” Salem stated.
“We’re not in a city,” Wyn pointed out. “More like Sex and the Country. Except I’m not getting any.”
She splashed in the water, scooping up handfuls and dousing her head.
“This isn’t a baptism.” I giggled.
“Isn’t it?” Hadley asked. “Okay everyone. Close your eyes and on the count of three, make a wish to yourself. One . . . two . . . three.”
After a few moments of silence, Hadley said, “Okay open your eyes.”
“In the words of the late Yul Brynner: So let it be written, so let it be done,” Salem said.
“And like a birthday wish, you can’t tell anyone, otherwise it won’t come true,” Hadley said with great authority.
For Hadley and Salem, I wished for them to have healthy babies.
For Wyn, I wished she found a great love.
I didn’t wish anything for myself.
Because if I knew my friends, they spent their wishes on everyone but themselves.
And if that was the case, then we were all covered in magic.
“I can’t find my ID,” Wyn said as she searched through the bottom of her monstrous purse.
“No?” Salem asked, eyes widening in feigned surprise. “That’s bad.”
“Very bad,” Hadley said.
I pulled Wyn’s suitcase out of the hatch of Hadley’s SUV and closed it. “Give it back, Salem.”
Wyn stopped looking in her bag to stare at Salem. “You took my ID?”
“No,” Salem lied. “I had nothing to do with your ID going missing. Maybe you left it at the Copper Mule.”
Wyn held her hand out.
Salem stared at Wyn’s outstretched palm and with a sigh, she reached into her back jeans pocket and pulled out Wyn’s ID.
“What were you hoping to do?” Wyn asked with a rueful smile.
“I thought it was fairly obvious,” Salem said glumly. “No ID, no flying. No flying, you stay. You stay, Salem happy.”
“I’ll be back for Christmas,” Wyn promised.
“How about Thanksgiving, too?” Salem urged.
“Can’t. The other nanny is taking Thanksgiving off. I’ll be back the week of Christmas.” She pointed at Hadley. “Don’t you dare have that baby early.”
“I’ll keep my legs together,” Hadley quipped. “She’s baking until Christmas.”
Wyn hugged Hadley and then Salem and then she turned to me. She placed her hands on my shoulders. “Your meeting at the bank is going to be easy. You’re going to get the loan. You’re going to open your bookstore. You’re going to get everything you want. That’s what I wished for.”
“You weren’t supposed to tell her,” Hadley whined.
“Doesn’t matter,” Wyn stated. “My wish was just a little extra precaution, but I know she’s already got it in the bag.”
Tears collected in my eyes, and I buried myself against my tall, huge-hearted friend.
“I want pictures of you in your new outfit,” Wyn said, hugging me tight. “And then I want a phone call the moment you step outside the bank. Don’t forget to include me in your celebration.”
“I could never forget to include you.”
She pulled back and peered down at me with a soft smile. “I’m happy for you. You get that, right?”
I nodded.
Wyn took her suitcase and with one last wave, she headed into the airport.
The three of us stood there for a moment, watching her go, before we eventually climbed back into Hadley’s SUV.
“What did you wish for?” Salem asked me.
I let out a sigh. “That you and Hadley have healthy babies. And that Wyn’s heart isn’t closed forever.”
They were silent as my words permeated the space.
“She’s scared,” I said quietly.
“Of what?” Hadley asked.
“Falling in love,” Salem said. “I know how that goes.”
I shook my head. “She’s scared that we’re going to move on with our lives and forget about her.”
“Impossible,” Hadley said. “That’s totally impossible.”
“Is it?” I asked. “We’re here. She’s there. We’ve got cowboys. She’s got . . . what does she have? A job that takes up most of her time. A pool of men that can’t see how amazing she is.”
They were silent again.
“I still think I should’ve kept her ID,” Salem muttered.
“It has to be Wyn’s choice,” Hadley said. “It has to be her choice to stay. And as much as I hate to say it, the three of us are not enough.”
“Not true,” Salem said. “Not true at all. Her job is a flimsy excuse. If it was just about a job, she could easily find work here. Hell, Jane needs a new part-time receptionist at the vet clinic. Wyn could have a job in a second if that’s what it was really about.”
“Did you see her?” I asked. “Did you see her face after the fire at The Diner? Cas, Declan, Brooks . . . they ran to us. She had no one running to her. It’s breaking her heart.
She’s happy for us. Of course she is, but it only reminds her of what she doesn’t have.
Would you want to be around your three happy and very in love friends when you’re not even sure you’ll get your own happily ever after? ”
Salem groaned. “I’m an ass.”
“We,” Hadley corrected. “We are asses.”
“I’m selfish,” Salem said. “I want Wyn here for me. I didn’t even think why it might be hard for her.”
“Give it some time,” I said. “As we know, things can change really fast.”
“Especially here,” Hadley said. “There’s something about this town . . .”
“Speaking of town. What’s going on with The Diner?” I asked. “How’s Mr. Bixby doing?”
“Not well,” Salem said. “The Diner is closed for the time being. It was a grease fire, apparently. The ductwork needs to be replaced; the walls in that room all have to be repaired and then painted, not to mention part of the roof and the window.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “It was the only real restaurant in town, too. What are people going to do?”
“Eat at home?” Hadley suggested. “The spill over to Sweet Teeth has already happened. Gracie is working like a dog, trying to figure out how they can offer breakfast options alongside their pastries.”
“Breakfast meat pies are always a winner,” Salem said. “But yeah. I don’t know what this will do to the town. Especially since we don’t know how long it’ll be closed.”
“Are you coming to the Ridge with us? Or should I drop you off at your place?” Hadley asked.
“My place, please,” I said. “I have a few more finishing touches to put on the presentation for Mr. Perkins.”
“I don’t know why you’re nervous,” Salem said.
“Maybe because I’m about to ask a bank for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars?” I asked in amusement.
“Oh, that.” Salem turned around and winked at me. “You have Lucy’s backing and you’re friends with us. That counts for something.”
“I’m an outsider,” I said. “Mr. Perkins doesn’t know me. I’m aware of back-door deals and handshakes over the golf course. This isn’t that.”
“We don’t have a golf course,” Hadley said.
“Figure of speech,” I said with a laugh. “Be honest with me for a second. Truly honest. Do you really think I have a shot in hell at doing this? At getting the loan?”
“Yes,” Hadley said. “And I’m not blowing smoke. You’ve shown us the presentation. Huckleberry Hill needs this.”
“You have a clear vision, and you have the knowledge. Connections with us aside, it’s a done deal,” Salem said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”