Chapter Five
By the time they’d all converged around the campfire, Rowan was yawning, paying for not taking a quick nap.
At the same time, she was very glad to be sitting around the flames with her friends.
Again, Evie sat across the fire from her, but this time, it was Claire who’d made sure that happened.
Rowan had been sitting already, and Evie was clearly headed for the chair next to her when Claire hooked her arm and steered her to the other side of the fire.
Rowan pretended not to have seen, poking unnecessarily at the fire.
“Hey. What do you think you’re doing?” Stevie took the stick from her hand. “Are you in charge of the fire?”
Rowan suppressed a grin. “No, ma’am, I am not.”
“And who is?”
“You are.”
“That’s right. Don’t you forget it.” Stevie started poking in the same spot Rowan had, making a show of slightly moving pieces of wood, shifting embers and sticks.
“Every group has a fire tender,” Jasmine said from two chairs down. “Don’t you think? In my family, it’s my brother Eddie. He just…” She shrugged. “Has a way with fire, I guess.”
“This one, too,” Rowan said, indicating Stevie. “She gets all the fires going.”
“Plus,” Becca added, “she’s kind of an asshole if you try to take care of it yourself. As you just saw.”
Stevie said nothing, just kept poking at the fire and held up her middle finger behind her back, which made the others laugh.
They all sat around, carrying on small conversations, some of them staring into the fire, hypnotized by the orange, blue, and yellow of the flames.
Rowan was one of the starers. Her brain was tired, and gazing into the campfire was somehow relaxing.
It cleared her mind, as if burning all the thoughts out of it, at least for the moment.
“So.” Justine spoke up. “I think we should do a trip into town tomorrow, split off and do some shopping or wandering or whatever, and then meet up for a late lunch, early dinner at that new restaurant. Who’s in? I can make a reservation in the morning.”
“Are you saying you’re already sick of cooking for us?” Becca asked with a grin. “It’s only Sunday.”
Justine grinned. “I’m never sick of cooking for you guys.
” She sat with her hand in Lizzie’s lap, their fingers linked, and Lizzie brought Justine’s hand up to her lips, kissed the knuckles.
“I’ve read good things about the restaurant, and it’s open on a Monday, which lots of places aren’t. Plus, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”
“Fuck this weather,” Claire said with a sigh. “Where’s the sun?”
Rowan had been checking the weather forecast and held up her phone. “Sun for the rest of the week. We just have to get through tomorrow.” Evie’s eyes were on her, she could feel them, but she managed to avoid meeting her gaze, turning to Justine instead. “I’m in. I love a new restaurant.”
“Perfect. Anybody else?”
Everybody decided to go, and once that was settled, they went back to the fire. Rowan was mostly quiet, enjoying listening to the other conversations going on around her and trying hard to stifle her yawns. At one point, she felt Stevie’s hand on the back of her neck, giving her a gentle squeeze.
“Okay?” Stevie asked quietly—and that was something about Stevie that she so appreciated: that she checked in often, but always softly, never loudly enough for everybody else to hear it.
“How are you feeling, Ro?” Becca must’ve seen Stevie lean in, so asked the same question, and she was not nearly as subtle about it as Stevie.
“Tired,” Rowan said with a smile. “But that’s par for the course.”
“Are you sick of everybody always asking you how you are?” Lizzie asked, then laughed softly.
“No, I—” She searched for the right words to explain her thoughts.
“I mean, sometimes, yes.” Soft chuckles went around the fire.
“But I know people are coming from a good place, just looking out for me. And you guys are far from my mother, who drives me crazy by asking me every other minute and hovering over me like she’s a helicopter mom and I’m ten. ”
“She means well,” Stevie said, more to the group than to Rowan. “But yeah, she can be a lot. We had to do some actual begging to get her to let Rowan come on this trip.”
“To let you?” Lizzie asked. “Aren’t you pushing forty?”
“Ouch,” Rowan said, then grinned. “But yes. Exactly. See?”
“Oof. That’s hard.” Lizzie shook her head.
“She just worries, I’m sure.” That was Justine, and as the one who tended to mother the group, it wasn’t a surprising take.
Rowan reached to her left and gave Justine’s arm a squeeze. “She is. I know.”
“Hey, Claire, can I have a beer?” Stevie sent her question across the fire. The cooler was next to Claire’s seat.
“You got it.” She opened the cooler, as both Becca and Evie said they’d also take a beer, and pulled out bottles.
She handed one to each person, the hand-off to Evie getting bobbled somehow.
Claire caught the falling bottle as Evie tried to grab it, and their hands ended up tangled together gripping the beer.
Their eyes met for a split second before they both grinned.
It was familiar and intimate, and Rowan had to make herself look away.
Rain clouds had rolled in as they enjoyed their time around the fire, and when one of them felt the first drop, teamwork took over. The fire was doused, empty bottles, snacks, and the cooler were hauled up to the house, and they all made it inside just as the sky opened up.
“Welp, Justine wasn’t kidding about the rain coming.” Becca put the empties into a big garbage bag while Jasmine emptied the cooler back into the fridge, then dumped the remaining ice into the sink.
Rowan smiled as she watched, noting how they’d all known each other for so long, they worked like a well-oiled machine, as her grandfather used to say. When another yawn cranked her mouth open, both Jazzy and Evie followed suit. Then they all laughed about the contagion of yawns.
“I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I’m gonna turn in.” Jazzy glanced across the room to meet Becca’s eyes and held out a hand. “You coming?”
“I hope to be soon,” Becca said, as she waggled her eyebrows to a round of boos and groans. Jazzy rolled her eyes, but with a grin.
“You’re disgusting,” Justine singsonged, but they all laughed softly, and then one by one, each of them also decided it was time for bed. Slightly earlier than the night before, but the rain made curling up under the covers sound lovely, at least to Rowan.
She waited for Evie and Claire to get all the way upstairs and for their bedroom door to click shut before she followed.
She didn’t want to overhear anything they might say, any sweet nothings or whispers, or see anything resembling intimate touches.
While she still didn’t know if they were together, Claire seemed awfully attentive to Evie, and while Rowan didn’t really have any right to complain about it, she also didn’t have to look.
The rain came down steadily as Rowan closed the door of her bedroom.
Without turning on the light, she walked to the French doors and stood, watching as lightning streaked across the sky over the water, lighting up the lake in a dazzling display.
She’d always loved a good storm, and when a rumble of thunder followed the lightning, she dragged a chair across the carpet so she could sit and watch.
Thunder and lightning were loud and scary to many, but Rowan found them beautiful.
She had so many memories of sitting in her mother’s lap, watching out the window or sitting together on the porch if it was warm enough, and just watching the mighty display of nature.
It always felt to Rowan a little bit like a performance just for her, and she felt that way now as she pulled a blanket off the bed, curled her legs up underneath her in the big, overstuffed chair—which was surprisingly comfortable—and settled in for the show.
While it really wasn’t a surprise whenever Rowan fell asleep where she sat, the giant crack of thunder that jolted her awake was.
With no idea how long she’d been asleep in the chair, she untucked her legs, then had to sit for a moment as the prickly sensation ran its course through her numb limbs.
Finally certain she could do so without falling on her ass, she pushed to her feet and stretched, a glance at the clock on the nightstand telling her it was after midnight.
Long storm, she thought as she watched the clouds roll off to the east and make way for the moon. Its reflection on the water was gorgeous, a breathtaking sight, and Rowan stood for a few moments, just soaking it in.
A small sound in the hall caught her attention, though she wasn’t sure what it was. Curious, she moved toward her door and put her hand on the knob, but she heard whispers before she could pull it open.
“Where the hell did you go?” That was Claire, clearly angry, her whisper hissed.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs.” That was Evie, and while her whisper wasn’t as irritated as Claire’s, there was a definite edge.
“You can’t just go off like that. What if you fall?”
Evie sighed. “Then I fall. It’s not the end of the world.”
What if she fell? That was an oddly specific thing to worry about.
There was a beat, as if Claire was collecting herself. Or maybe trying to rein herself in. “You can’t just go off without telling me.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say I can’t?” Now Evie was mad. Rowan knew that tone—knew all her tones—very well.
“I mean you shouldn’t.” Claire was obviously backpedaling. “You shouldn’t go off without telling me.”
Evie’s voice got a little softer, but Rowan suspected it was because she was moving away, toward their own bedroom down the hall. “Claire, seriously, I love you, but you have to back the fuck off.”
Oh, wow. Rowan rolled her lips in, straining to hear more.