Page 74 of Something Tangled Something True (Rosa Ranch #1)
NEW REVELATIONS
“Lola!” I shout, unable to stay silent any longer as I tear through the living room in search of my wife. They’ve been gone for entirely too long, and after hearing Mayte’s anxious pleas for Lola not to throw up, because she will return the favor, I can’t sit still for a second longer.
I enter the kitchen to find Lola doubled over, clutching her stomach, green-tinged cheeks filled with air. Sweat shimmers on her forehead, pain evident in her posture.
“Lola, what’s wrong?” I ask, frantic as my feet drag me to her. I help hold her up, rubbing her back.
“She needs a goddamn exorcism at this point,” Mayte mutters under her breath before clarifying, as if just how screwed we are wasn’t clear enough.
“Her limpia result is not good, Ry,” Mayte tells me, and I find myself staring at the clear glass on the counter, as if I have any idea what this rotten-looking egg could be telling us.
“Go have a seat in the living room. We’ll join you when we’ve disposed of the egg appropriately. ”
“Would it be alright if I took Lola to dispose of it off the property real quick, or would that be disrespectful?” I ask, desperate to support Lola in any way I can.
“That's fine, Ryder. We were probably just going to flush it, but?—”
Bexaida cuts Mayte off, “No, we were not! We aren't keeping this energy in Bee’s home!”
Lola's shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry,” she whines, her voice small and pained. It breaks my heart. “I didn’t mean for all of this to happen. I would never intentionally bring you all into harm’s way.” She sags against me.
“You are not responsible for the actions of others, Lola. The good news is, while your limpia revealed gossip, someone keeping a close eye on you, karmic cords you need to cut, a physical ailment, which you already knew about, the tiny bubbles are a sign the limpia cleansed you of those things. The big concern now is the, well—” Mayte’s eyes dart away, discomfort twisting her face as she scratches her arm.
“The figure,” Lola finishes, and I swear, everyone who wasn’t in that kitchen with them has their head on a swivel.
“There was a human figure in the egg yolk when Lola started to feel sick. And shortly after, there were two ,” Bexaida informs us.
Goosebumps litter my skin, bile climbing up my throat. I become acutely aware of why Lola would have a weak stomach after her experience.
“How do we get rid of them? What’s the next step?” my mom asks, leaning into the conversation with her elbows planted on her knees, wild blue eyes frantic for an answer.
“A lot of the bad energy was disposed of with the egg, but if there are two people coming after Lola, we have to get to the bottom of it. We need to confront the problem, break ties, and make sure they’re not able to spiritually bully her anymore,” José answers.
“What if we hire a private investigator? We have messages from these people. Maybe there’s someone who can confirm it’s Lemmon behind all this?” Dad suggests.
“I’m not totally convinced it even is Lemmon, at least, not just her,” Lola admits, rubbing her temples.
“Whoever it is, we’ll figure it out, darlin’,” I assure her, squeezing her thigh.
“That’s actually what I was looking into the other day. I have a buddy of mine from the Marines who can track anyone. He flies back to the States on Sunday and said he can get on it then,” Zeke explains.
“Any ideas for what we should do in the meantime?”
“Have you swept your home for cameras or recording devices of any kind?” Zeke asks, and trepidation mingles with the ever-growing list of uncomfortable emotions I’m living with.
“No. As stupid as it is, I hadn’t thought about it.” Very fucking stupid of me, given the circumstances.
“I need to grab a few things from my place, but I can head over after and check things out to be safe,” he says, and we spend the next hour going through possibilities for who the second person might be, coming up mostly empty.
“What about those dumb girls always hanging around Lemmon?” Mom muses.
Mayte shakes her head. “Unlikely. Judging by the way they avoided being seen with her at the barn fire the other day, it seems they’ve cut ties.”
“And they’d probably get her caught if they were involved,” Dad tells her.
Zeke butts in, stunning us into silence.
“Neither of those women is dumb, nor are they girls. Wendy is a pre-school teacher with a sick mom and a special needs child she’s fighting to gain full custody of from her abusive ex, but since she doesn’t have the budget to afford a home care nurse for her mother, it’s not going well.
Dana Sue runs a non-profit and can barely afford to feed the stray cats she cares for, let alone fund her little brother’s rehab.
” His gaze sweeps over each of us. “They’re good people living with unfortunate circumstances.
You can’t blame them for accepting Lemmon’s money. ”
“So she does pay them to be her friends?” Lola asks.
Zeke shakes his head. “No, she just helps fund Wendy’s mom’s home health aide and Dana Sue’s non-profit, I guess so she doesn’t have to be totally alone. It started after her dad cut ties with her.”
I can’t utter a word before Mayte flashes Zeke a smirk. “Well, excuse me, little Lockhart. When did you become the town crier?”
“I’m not crying about anything, you brat,” he says with a chuckle that warms me to my bones in the same second it acts as a shock to my system.
“I do have a life outside of this ranch. It may not be extravagant, but it’s wholesome.
I met both of them while volunteering at Dana Sue’s non-profit a couple years back. ”
Zeke’s on a roll, stunning me into silence yet again.
“Are you living a double life or something? Should we call you Hannah Montana?” Lola asks, standing and reaching across the coffee table, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re not feverish, so there’s no good reason for you to be hallucinating.”
He gently swats her hand away, rolling his eyes and leaning into his corner of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. “The point is, it’s not them. Moving on, y’all.”
“ There he is,” Mom mutters, the corners of her lips twitching.
“What about the bikers?” José asks, receiving a pointed glare from Bexaida. “They’ve been showing up an awful lot more recently. It could be related.”
Bexaida shakes her head almost violently, black-and-silver hair falling loose from the low bun at the nape of her neck. “No, never. My Levi would never. ”
“You know, I think Papi might have something to say about this,” Lola teases, earning a scowl from her mom.
“Those men are good-hearted people who’ve lived very tough lives. They have vibrant, protective energy around them. They are not involved,” she insists.
We’ve officially run out of suspects, aside from Russ, who’s acting out of character, according to Lola. Besides that, there’s nothing really tying him to any of this.
We move on to discussing strategies for keeping everyone safe: lying low, cleansing our homes and auras, and when we finally leave, I feel a little lighter than I did at the start of the day.
Not much has improved; if anything, it’s gotten twice as bad, based on the second figure Bexaida saw in the yolk, but knowing we have such a strong support system provides me some much-needed hope for our future.
After driving Lola off the property to dispose of the egg and taking care of a few last things on the ranch, we finish up the last few minutes of our counseling session with a homework assignment for the week and a plan to meet next Thursday, same time.
“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss before we end our call?” Talia asks.
“Yeah, I was wondering if you have contact information for any therapists trained in animal-assisted therapy. I’ve been looking into non-invasive treatments for rheumatoid arthritis and came across several articles that outlined the benefits of equine therapy.
” I scratch my neck, averting my eyes, but I can’t escape the way Lola’s gaze feels so heavy on my skin.
“I figure since we rescue lots of horses to live out their lives here, why not work with someone who can help them rescue others in their own way?”
I finally glance at Lola. She peers up at me with glossy eyes and swipes at a tear that’s fallen down her cheek.
Talia smiles brightly at the camera and bends her head, jotting something down in our file before glancing back up at us. “I have a couple of people in mind I’ll reach out to and have them get in contact if interested. And for what it’s worth, I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
“Thank you, Talia. I appreciate your help with everything, not just this,” I say, a newfound tether of hope attaching itself to my heart, and we end the call after some basic pleasantries.
As expected, we had a lot to discuss, but we each ended the night feeling more equipped to handle the bad days, like today, than we had last week or the one before that.
The only thing left to do for the night is the part I find most daunting.
Zeke agreed to come over after we finished therapy, and I hope whatever he finds doesn’t leave me wishing we hadn’t waited.