“I’m feeling better already,” Robin said, nodding in encouragement. She coughed as Mom blew more sage smoke over her head.
Then Mom stopped abruptly and listened to something only she could hear. “I believe it’s working.”
At that moment, the sliding glass door opened and my brother Austin walked out to the patio. He’d come straight from the vineyards and was still wearing his dusty cowboy hat, faded jeans, scruffy boots, and a white T-shirt covered in dirt.
Sometimes I forgot how beautiful he was. His skin was tanned from the sun and his dark blond hair was streaked with gold.
Austin had traveled all over the world but had finally returned to Dharma a few years ago to live and work the land with his family and friends in the commune. He wasn’t some kind of weirdo hippie freak, I swear. On the contrary, he loved football and beer and cars and girls. He liked to shoot and hunt and fish. He also loved good books and fine wine. And he loved this place, the hills, the trees, the grapes, the earth. He was basically an all-American guy, if you didn’t count the fact that he was raised in a commune with two Deadheads for parents. You know, the kind of parents who would name their firstborn son after the Texas town in which little Austin was conceived after a wild night watching the Grateful Dead perform with Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan. Apparently it had been quite a show.
I gave a little cry of joy, jumped up from the table, and ran to hug him. His blue eyes danced with pleasure when he saw me.
“Hey, farmer,” I said. “Gosh, you’re filthy, but it’s still great to see you.”
He ruffled my hair. “Hey, book girl, you look fantastic.”
I brushed some residual dirt off my sweater as Derek stood. Austin greeted him jovially as they shook hands. They’d always liked each other, which was a relief. I’d tried dating guys my brothers hated, and those relationships were always doomed from the start.
“Hello, Austin,” Robin said after the greetings died down.
At the sound of her voice, he smiled at the rest of us. “There she is.” Then he turned and got his first look at Robin. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”
I smacked his shoulder. “Knucklehead.”
Robin tilted her head to meet my gaze. “What every girl longs to hear.”
He whipped around and faced Mom. “Why didn’t you tell me she was hurt?”
Mom frowned and shook her head. “Why would I tell you anything, sweetie? It’s not as if you care about Robin one way or another, is it?”
“Care about—” He shook his head in disgust, then walked straight over to Robin’s chaise and crouched down beside her. “Of course I care about you.”
“Really? Who knew?”
He touched her chin gently with his fingers. “I hope I’m not hurting you.”
She sniffed. “You’re not.”
Stroking her hair, he whispered, “It’s really good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Austin.”
I edged a few feet closer so I could hear everything they were saying.
Austin said, “I understand you’ll be staying here for a few days.”
“That’s the plan.”
Austin glanced over his shoulder at Mom and Dad. He was frowning. If I didn’t know him better, I would’ve said he looked confused. But Austin was never confused. He’d always professed to know exactly what he was doing.
Returning his gaze to Robin, he murmured, “I’ve got to do this, babe.”
“Do what?” Robin asked in a tentative voice.
“Trust me?”
She stared deep into his eyes as if mesmerized. “I guess so.”
In one sweeping motion, he lifted Robin out of the chair and into his arms. “You’re coming home with me.”
“Put me down,” Robin insisted.
Dad jumped to his feet. “Austin, no.”
“Austin Wainwright,” Mom declared, “you put that girl down right this minute. She’s in pain and needs her rest.”
He turned patiently and said, “She’ll get plenty of rest, Mom. But . . .” He shook his head again, looked around as though he were seeing us all for the first time. Then he gazed at Robin. “I need her with me.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mom said, clutching her hands nervously.
Robin shoved her hand against his chest. “I won’t sleep with you.”
“Yes, you will.”
“In your dreams.”
He whispered something to Robin that made her laugh—despite her best intentions, it seemed. Then Austin stalked toward the wide walkway at the side of the house and disappeared with my best friend in his arms.
Chapter 9
“I guess I don’t know my own strength,” Mom muttered, as she crushed the still-smoking sage into a small bowl.
“You’ve got strong magic in you, Becks,” Dad said, and gave her a quick hug. “Especially when it comes to the wild thing.”
“I’m not listening to this.” I pressed my hands to my ears and stared at them in complete bewilderment. Did Mom and Dad really think it was her chanting that brought Austin here? Was that what caused him to go temporarily insane? To fall into lust? To kidnap my BFF?