Chapter Thirteen Somewhere in the Badlands Present Day #3
“Sometimes love means pulling the damn plug already.” Even though Scarlett spoke lightly, there was an undercurrent to her words that only served to highlight the tension that had been building between the two of them.
Chrissie had no idea how much all this dredging up of the past and scribbling commands on a piece of motel paper was due to the awkwardness of River’s addition to their party and how much was the product of Scarlett’s roller-coaster moods, but she didn’t care for it either way.
There’d only been once in their shared history when a similar feeling of constraint had put a wedge between them.
That particular time had resulted in Scarlett’s year of art study in Paris, followed not too long thereafter by a ten-month stint in Bangkok—both of which had included radio silence on Scarlett’s end.
At the time, Chrissie had been so hurt by her friend’s defection that it had been a physical ache. Especially that first one, when Kat had only been a few weeks old and Chrissie was so overwhelmed that she sometimes cried through the night alongside her newborn daughter.
She wasn’t sure if the same thing was happening now—if Scarlett was getting ready for a long, self-indulgent trip somewhere Chrissie wasn’t allowed to follow—but she was starting to worry.
“The guidebook says we’re allowed to touch it, but under no circumstances are we to cut off any of the twine and take it with us,” Scarlett said as she toyed with one of the frayed bits nearest her head.
“I think it’s like taking obsidian from Hawaii.
You’ll be cursed for all time, hounded to the ends of the earth by Minnesota Nice. ”
Scarlett faltered over the last few words, her knees suddenly buckling as if under a massive weight—or a ball of tourist-trap twine. She staggered back two steps before both Chrissie and River caught her.
“Whoa, there,” Chrissie said as she half dragged, half carried her friend out of the gazebo. “Slowly, Scarlett. Slowly.”
“I’m fine,” Scarlett gasped, sounding anything but fine. She stiffened as if she wanted to cast Chrissie off but lacked the strength to go through with it. “Just put me down here. I’ll be fine once I catch my breath.”
From the look of it, Scarlett needed a lot more than a temporary infusion of oxygen.
Her skin was pale, yes, but more than that, it was cold and clammy in a way that spoke of deeper and longer-lasting problems. When added to the pharmacy she was carrying around in her purse and how tired she’d been looking on this trip, Chrissie was ready to call it.
“That’s it,” she announced. “We’re taking you to the doctor. Something’s not right.”
“I’m okay, Chrissie.” Scarlett still spoke in that failing voice, but there was an underlayer of iron she recognized well. “I’m just having a dizzy spell, that’s all. I think there’s some kind of solvent in parts of that twine. I got too close and inhaled it.”
Chrissie managed to drag Scarlett to a nearby bench. As she sagged gratefully and gracelessly down onto it, River and Chrissie shared a look that said everything they were both thinking—namely, that neither one of them had detected a hint of solvent.
“Scarlett, don’t. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”
Scarlett passed a hand over her eyes, but her breathing was already growing steadier. She even managed a shaky laugh, though it contained little humor. “That’s not true. I’m an amazing liar. You’re just the one person who always sees right through me.”
“Should I call an ambulance or something?” River asked from where she stood back a few paces. She was watching the scene with a strange expression. “I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but if you’re taking—”
“No.” This time, there was nothing shaky about Scarlett’s voice. “I don’t need a doctor, and I definitely don’t need an ambulance. For crying out loud, you two. From the way you’re reacting, you’d think I cut out my own kidney. I’m just tired, that’s all. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
This, Chrissie remembered with a twinge of guilt, was true.
Part of it she ascribed to Scarlett’s natural antipathy to sleep, but she also suspected sharing a room with her had something to do with it.
Scarlett had been a lone, roving wolf for so long that she probably found it difficult to sleep next to the natural sounds of another human being.
“We’re finding somewhere to park for the night, and that’s nonnegotiable,” Chrissie said. “We’ve been pushing too hard. What we need is a real hotel—not one of your weird roadside attractions—with room service, a swimming pool, and with any luck, no sign of a piano anywhere.”
“That should be easy enough.” River pulled out her phone and, in the manner of tech-savvy teenagers everywhere, found what she was looking for in less than twenty seconds. “There’s a chain hotel with spots available about fifteen minutes away. It’s only got three stars, but—”
“It’s perfect,” Chrissie said as she took the phone and started to make the reservation. “Get the car and bring it as close as you can. The sooner we’re in our pajamas and ordering an ungodly amount of french fries, the better.”