17. Rain, Cinnamon, & Lemon Tea
Rain, Cinnamon, & Lemon Tea
When I woke up again, I found myself in a cozy bed wrapped in blankets with a tray of steaming tea beside me. It was gray and drizzly outside, and it took me a moment of searching for a clock to realize that it was ten.
Ten in the morning? I started to panic. Where was I? And how long had I been asleep?
That’s when Margaret walked in. “She’s awake!” she called from the door before hurrying in to sit on the edge of the bed. “Goodness, child. I thought I was going to have to summon a wood elf to wake you.” As she said this, her eyes twinkled with mischief.
I didn’t even try to make sense of that statement, though.
Instead, I slowly pushed myself into a seated position and looked around again.
“Where am I?” As I spoke the words, however, my throat felt like a knife had slashed it, and I was reminded of the virus that had hit me after Casey had gone out of town.
Had that been yesterday?
“You’re supposed to be at church right now,” I added. “And so am I.”
“You’re in my guest bedroom,” Margaret said as she began to rearrange my blankets.
“No need to go to church and cough on everyone there to get them ill. The Lord says the Sabbath is a day of rest. And sick as you are, that’s exactly what you need.
So here you will stay until you’re markedly better. ”
“I don’t remember what happened,” I croaked, putting my hand on my head where a splitting headache was beginning to bloom. “I was feeding the horses, and–”
“And you passed out from the fever,” she said, her mouth tightening into a thin line. “Derrick found you. He was driving by and saw the barn door open much later than it should have been. If God hadn’t sent that man to check on you, I don’t know what state you would be in right now.”
I drew in a shaky breath.
“Here. Drink.” She took the teacup from the tray beside the bed and lifted it to my lips.
“This will help your sore throat and your headache.” Once I had obeyed, she put the cup down and looked at me, reproach in her sharp eyes.
“Now, tell me what in the world you were doing out in the barn when you’re this ill. ”
“Casey went on a business trip last night,” I said, my voice sounding much like a frog’s. “She said Harper was supposed to help me, but I couldn’t find her.”
Margaret rolled her eyes so hard I wondered if it hurt. “Harper wasn’t found because she chose not to be found.” She shook her head and studied me with pursed lips. “I don’t like this, Ella. Not one bit.”
I gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Margaret. For taking care of me.”
“Thank Derrick when you see him. He had enough sense to bring you straight to me.” She tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, just the way my mother had once done. “Just you wait until that woman gets back. I have some choice words for her!”
Anyone else might have tried arguing with Margaret.
After all, I was twenty-three years old and had been tucked into bed like I was four by a woman I wasn’t even related to.
But I knew better than to think I could win that debate.
And even if I had wanted to go home, I knew I wasn’t strong enough.
So I snuggled back down under her thick, plush covers and closed my eyes, listening to the steady sound of rain on the roof, drinking in the smell of cinnamon and lemon tea.
“That’s right,” she said, pulling the covers up over my shoulders. “You rest. Derrick said he’ll watch the horses for you while Casey’s gone.”
And so I submitted, glad for once to let someone else take the wheel. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept this late. So after another forced sip of tea–which I was rather sure tasted like sleep–I drifted into unconsciousness once again.
I stayed at Margaret’s house for three days. Harper never appeared, but Derrick did.
“Everything’s just fine,” he promised me with a smile. “Nevada’s restless, but that’s just because you’re gone. She’ll calm down once you get well again.”
Asher called as well, but his voice didn’t hold a smile the way Derrick’s had.
“She just left you like that?” he demanded. It was the first time I’d ever heard him angry.
“I was getting sick when she left,” I croaked out. My voice still sounded like a frog’s, but after three days of nourishment from Margaret’s chicken noodle soup and various blends of tea, my throat no longer felt like someone had taken a knife to it. “I passed out after she left.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “She should have stayed.”
I couldn’t help smiling at the indignation in his voice. “Thanks, Asher.”
He didn’t answer immediately, and I could hear another voice on his side of the phone. A moment later, he sighed. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. But listen, don’t go home until Margaret says you’re ready. Even if that witch comes back.”
It was the first time someone had ever called my stepmother a witch out loud, but I wasn’t about to correct him.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, his words hurried now. “Anything I can send?”
“I’ve got Margaret here, so I don’t think she’d let you send anything even if you wanted to. I’m already drowning in tea, toast, and her own special tonic. Any more generosity, might just be more than I can handle.” I laughed, but it turned into a cough.
“Fair enough,” he said. “But I’m serious. Listen to her. She’ll take care of you. She always took care of me.”
I decided to ask her about that later as I hung up. But she wasn’t in the room at the moment, and I was tired from the call. So instead, I looked curiously around the room for the tenth time that day.
The second Margaret had told me the house I was in belonged to her, the room had made absolute sense.
There were books shoved into every corner–old books with cloth and leather covers.
And yet, it didn’t look cluttered or overly full, just cozy and warm.
There were a number of pictures on the wall as well.
Most of them were fantastical scenes involving magical creatures from familiar fairy tales.
These were my favorite to look at because if I looked away and then back quickly enough, I could have sworn some of the characters moved.
Still, as I improved, I began to dread returning to my own home. Because I was rather sure that when all of this was over, a storm was about to break.
But maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing, I thought as I sipped the cinnamon chai tea Margaret had brought me.
I’d already decided that something had to give.
I just hadn’t been able to decide how to go about doing it.
Maybe I needed an event like this to catapult me into the next phase of my life–a phase that wasn’t dictated by my stepmother.
I had two major hurdles to figure out, though, before I cut myself free completely.
The first was Nevada. She’d been my horse since I was twelve, when I’d helped my father with her delivery in the barn.
Casey had threatened to keep her, and I had no doubt that she would.
There had to be a way to get my horse out of my stepmother’s hands and safely into mine.
The second problem was the other horses.
Sure, Derrick was taking care of them now.
But what would Casey do when I left? Would she hire Derrick full time and give him free rein?
I doubted it. While she was perfectly capable of doing anything she wanted with the horses, whether that be grooming, healing, or teaching, she didn’t like to get her hands dirty.
And yet, despite not wanting to get into the nitty gritty of life with horses, she wanted to feel like she had total and complete control of everything that went on at the ranch.
Even when she didn’t.
But Casey wasn’t all-knowing. Nor was she all-powerful. So I would just have to keep praying and brainstorming ways to break free from her grip. Because I would break free. And so would my horse.