Page 189 of Lavender Lake
“North side of the property. Where the acreage butts up to national forest.”
“What were you doing all the way up there?” she asked.
“Mom never told you about our tree, did she?”
“What tree?”
Muddy’s hands were gentle as she dowsed my knee in salve. I hissed.
“Sorry, sugar. Almost done.”
“It’s fine,” I lied, my vision going spotty. “There’s this huge red cedar. It was already dead when we found it, and Mom and I carved our initials into it. It’s always been our secret place. Not even Hadley knows about it.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “I hope the fire didn’t destroy it.”
She didn’t say anything, she just moved on to my ankle. The salve made my knee warm and it began to tingle.
“Have you decided to put Cas out of his misery and accept his proposal?” she asked.
I looked at her.
“What? That’s why you went to visit the tree, right? To get your mind and heart right?”
“I forgot how well you know me,” I joked. “As for the proposal . . . I didn’t know why I kept saying no. My reasons sounded stupid.”
“Life-and-death experiences seem to bring about a sort of clarity, don’t they?”
I nodded.
“You’ve got a guardian angel, sugar.”
“Yeah. It’s Mom,” I said quietly. “She protected me when I was a kid. And now she protects me from . . . wherever she is. Pretty sure she sent me Cas.”
Muddy smiled. “I have no doubt about that.”
She finished doctoring my ankle and placed the ice pack on my knee. Then she handed me the remote. “You rest. I’ll fix you something to eat.”
“You take such good care of us,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”
Muddy leaned over and pressed her forehead to mine. “It’s an honor, Salem. Truly an honor.”
After I was fed and sleepy, Muddy moved to her crochet chair and worked on her project. She still wouldn’t tell me what it was, no matter how many times I asked.
My eyes were just starting to close when the front door opened. The sound of paws scrambling across the wooden floor had me sitting up and looking around.
“Who is this?” Muddy asked as a snout appeared from around the back of the couch. At the timbre of Muddy’s voice,the dog rushed over to her and placed its head in her lap. Its black tail with a white tip wagged like a car antenna.
“This is Fig,” Cas said as he came into the room and set a leash down onto the end table. “She’s a three-year-old beagle mix and she was one of the dogs at Mountain Mutt Rescue.”
Fig lifted her head, complete with floppy beagle ears, and looked at me with golden brown eyes. Then she came over to greet me.
“Beagle mix, huh?” Muddy said. “Does she bay?”
“Not yet,” Cas said.
Fig jumped up onto the couch without invitation and curled into my side. My hand went to her neck and I began to stroke her. She made a little whoof of contentment.
