Tymber Dalton (19 page)

Mandaline indicated Libbie take a seat at one of the two chairs at the small, round table, which was covered with a fringed tablecloth in swirling rust and turquoise patterns. Before Mandaline sat, she turned to a white, antique cabinet behind her, which had glass-front doors. From the top shelf, her finger paused over several different small boxes before she chose one and removed it. When Mandaline turned back to the table, Libbie saw the box was a Tarot deck.

“I didn’t mean for you to give me a reading,” Libbie said.

Mandaline waved her objections away. “For you, no charge. And since you’re looking for an ear and advice, the best advice I can give you comes from here.” She tapped the deck’s box with an unpolished fingernail. “You strike me as a
Celtic Dragon Tarot
kind of soul.” Mandaline removed the cards from the box and smoothly shuffled them with practiced fingers. “So talk to me, girlie.”

Libbie had a hard time taking her eyes off the cards quickly flowing through her friend’s fingers. “You…” She lowered her voice. “You have two guys.”

A sultry smile curled Mandaline’s lips. “Yeesss. It doesn’t make you a slut. It makes you a smart woman for seeing a golden opportunity. Lots of people are poly. It’s not just something that happens in those sexy books you read.” She set the deck on the table in front of Libbie. “Cut it.”

Libbie reached out, hesitating only briefly before pinching the deck partway down and moving the top stack beside the lower half.

Mandaline quickly reached out with the speed of a Vegas pit boss and scooped the cards up, regrouping them into one pile with the cut lower deck on top. She pulled the top card and flipped it right-side up, laying it on the tablecloth in front of Libbie.

The bottom of the card read
Three of Cups
. On it, a dragon stared at three chalices in what appeared to be shallow water.

Libbie looked up and saw Mandaline grinning ear to ear.

“What?”

“In this deck, this card usually signifies prosperity, good times on the horizon.” Her grin broadened. “Three
of Cups
? Seriously?
Three
? Do you
not
see the significance?”

Libbie felt her face flush. “It’s just one card,” she mumbled.

Mandaline cocked her head to one side “Are you looking for permission to be in a triad? Because you don’t need it from me or anyone else.”

“I don’t know what I want or what I’m looking for.” Her gaze fell to her lap, where she twisted her hands in the hem of her T-shirt. “All I know is the thought of losing them breaks my heart. And it scares the crap out of me that I’m this much in love with them this soon when I barely know them. And I can’t even tell them.”

“Can’t, or won’t because you’re worried what they might or might not say?”

She didn’t answer, but she stared at Mandaline.

Her friend’s smile faded. “We all have to take chances. That’s what separates us from those who’ve moved on to the Summerland. Or Heaven. Or Valhalla or reincarnation or take your pick of hereafters.”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

“Then all the more reason to take chances in this life, no? If we’re all wrong and it’s only one time around this existence followed by a forever dirt nap, we shouldn’t waste a moment of it worrying about what others think of us as long as we aren’t harming anyone else in the process.”

She flipped over another card and placed it, faceup, next to the first.

The bottom read
8 - Strength
. On it, a woman in a yellow dress caressed the chin of a large, orange dragon while several smaller dragons gathered around her feet.

Mandaline let out an amused snort. Libbie thought she muttered “fuck me” under her breath, but couldn’t be sure.

“What?” she asked.

“In this deck, Strength means you should use your intuition. Have the courage to take a stand and follow through with it, basically.” Mandaline lifted her gaze to Libbie’s. “We can do this all day, but I can already tell you what the cards will keep saying.”

“What?”

“Shit or get off the pot.” She grinned and turned the
Strength
card over so its back was visible. The background of the card was a marbled light grey, with a round, pewter-colored symbol in the middle. Three stylized animals surrounded a center of three spirals.

“What’s that?” Libbie asked.

“It’s a type of triskele,” Mandaline said. “Tri. Three.” All that was missing was the audible
duh
. “Why are you afraid to let this happen?” Mandaline asked.

Libbie finally blurted it out. “Because my ex lied to me and cheated on me. I ended up divorcing him, and just the thought of both of them lying to me breaks my heart. How do I survive it if they really do it?”

Libbie didn’t miss Mandaline’s sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t know they’ll lie to you and break your heart,” she gently said. “You really don’t. You’re painting them with your ex’s sins when they haven’t done anything to earn your mistrust. Have they?”

Libbie tried not to think about how they never really talked in great detail about their past. How they always managed to distract her from the topic with other topics…or really good, hot, raunchy sex. And her mind flashed back to the Florida tag on the back of their truck and the troubling, niggling thought in her mind that maybe they weren’t telling the truth about that. That she never remembered seeing a Nebraska plate on the truck, front or back.

Then again, she couldn’t be sure, either. Especially not with how bad her fibro fog had been lately. Hell, there were mornings, literally, she awoke with no idea of what day it was.

“No,” Libbie finally admitted. “They’ve been nothing but sweet.”

“Want one more?” Mandaline asked, tapping the deck with her finger.

Libbie shrugged.

Mandaline flipped over the next card and laid it before Libbie. Two dragons flew over a beach, each holding a wand. The third wand was stuck in the sand below them. The bottom of the card read
Three of Wands
.

The women’s eyes met. Mandaline arched an eyebrow.

“Tell me,” Libbie finally said.

“Good planning creates success. Possible partnerships.” She smiled. “It’s no coincidence it’s a three. Did you know a tripod is one of the most stable structures there are?”

“All right, all right already. I get the picture.”

Mandaline covered Libbie’s hand with hers and waited until she met her gaze. “Take a chance,” Mandaline softly said. “If nothing else, the endorphin rush you’ll get from really great, raunchy sex with those two hunks will help your fibro for a while.”

“What helps me if they break my heart?”

Mandaline’s expression softened. “We will all help you then. You have way more friends in this community than you realize. But I really think that’s not going to be an issue. I’ve seen the way they look at you, and the lust and love in their eyes has nothing to do with your fabulous red velvet cakes.” She gently squeezed Libbie’s hand again. “Look, you remember how I was totally the queen of the commitmentphobes. Between cheats and liars and jerks who pretended to give a damn about my beliefs, just to turn around and throw them in my face later. If I can empty and get rid of my baggage, so can you. It’s all going to be okay.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“The cards don’t lie.”

“I love you, Mandaline, but you know I’m not…” She didn’t know how to finish that statement without hurting her friend’s feelings.

“I know you don’t follow the same path I do. That’s okay. But as one friend to another, don’t sit on your butt and think about what might have been because that’s the safer, albeit more depressing option to actually living your life.”

* * * *

Grover was taking care of smoking three turkeys, as well as a brisket, a ham, and who knew how many other delectable meats. Libbie had been assigned to bring desserts and dinner rolls for the Johnson brood’s annual Thanksgiving bash, the total headcount of which would likely top fifty people.

Grover never turned anyone away from holiday dinners. It wasn’t uncommon for one or more of the kids to bring an “orphaned” friend or two with them for dinner, someone who had no other place to go and knowing there would be more than enough food for all, in addition to their own significant other. Jenny and her two sons would also be in attendance, liable to receive an early visit from Santa Claus.

Although Santa would be black and sound like Grover behind the red suit and fake beard.

Libbie had awakened stiff and sore—due to her fibro and not a vigorous fucking—a little after seven Thanksgiving morning. It didn’t help that an early frost had also dipped the temperatures down to near freezing and left a thin layer of ice on the men’s truck and her car, even under the protection of the carport.

Both men took one look at her and ordered her to go soak in the tub and leave all the car loading to them. Charles brought her coffee and a naproxen, while Ken prepared a bowl of Cream of Wheat for her to eat in the tub. She couldn’t hear exactly everything going on, but heard the men making several trips in and out of the downstairs door, and the sound of things being loaded into the back of their truck. They were bringing what few folding chairs they had, as well as the folding tables, to help seat everyone at the feast.

By eight, Libbie had worked the worst of the kinks and stiffness out of her body. The men were downstairs when she got out of the tub, pulled on her robe, and made her way into the kitchen.

Two envelopes with her name on them sat propped up on the counter.

Her hands shook as she opened the first one, which turned out to be from Ken. The outside read
On Our First Thanksgiving
. Tears welled up in her eyes as she read his inscription inside.

May this be the first of many more together. — K.

No, not a declaration of love, but wasn’t looking toward the future a good sign?

She opened the card from Charles, which had a funny picture on the front of a turkey doing an imitation of a lamp while a farmer carrying an ax searched for it in the kitchen.

I’ll never get tired of gobbling you, babe. — Charles.

She snorted with laughter, then felt badly that she hadn’t thought to get either man a card. She’d been fairly busy with the bakery and preparing Thanksgiving orders and it’d slipped her mind.

When the men returned to her apartment a short while later, she hugged them both. “Thank you for the cards.” She kissed them. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you two cards.”

“It’s all right,” Ken said.

“You’ve been busy,” Charles added.

“We just wanted to show you how special you are to us.”

“If it wasn’t for the fact I know I wouldn’t want to go to Grover’s after if we did, I’d show you how special you are to me right now.”

“We’ll take a rain check,” Charles said.

“Until tonight,” Ken said with a deliciously wicked smile.

* * * *

Fortunately, Libbie already knew most of the people in attendance at Grover’s house. Otherwise, she would have felt completely overwhelmed by the number of people. As it was she spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, helping keep the food moving and washing up dishes.

Some of the family gathered in the living room in front of Grover’s large TV to watch football. Some went outside to play a version of the real thing in Grover’s enormous backyard.

“So are the Cornhuskers playing today?” she asked Ken on one of his many trips through to check on her.

She didn’t understand the momentary confusion on his face. “Oh. Oh, um, I’m not a big football fan.”

“I thought it was mandatory if you lived in Nebraska to follow football.”

He smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Only if you follow football in the first place.” Before she could figure that out, he left the kitchen. She got busy and didn’t have time to question him about it later.

It was nearly dark. Most of the people had left, but Libbie refused to leave the kitchen, insisting she didn’t want to leave Grover with a ton of cleanup to do. Charles and Ken had been gently hinting to her for over two hours they thought she’d pushed herself too far, but she kept waving them off.

It was only when Grover himself walked into the kitchen and took the dishtowel from her that she finally listened. He placed his hands on her shoulders and marched her out of the kitchen to where Charles and Ken awaited in the living room.

“Take her home and make her rest,” Grover told them.

“But there’s still dishes to do!” she protested.

He crossed his arms over his massive chest and stared down his nose at her. “Listen here, you go home and you rest. You’re worn out. Now, git.”

Knowing he wouldn’t be swayed, she let the men lead her out to her car where Ken drove her home, followed by Charles in their truck with the folding tables in back.

They made her take a hot bath while they unloaded the truck. By the time they returned upstairs, she realized they’d been right to make her leave Grover’s. She only had a little energy left.