Hidden in the Heartwood {sapphic paranormal}

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

17. || i wish i was.

Supper had come together effortlessly with both Finley and River prepping and cooking in unison. Fresh sweet rolls, roasted jerusalem artichokes, carrots, and kale covered the table along with two perfectly seared backstraps of venison in a whiskey glaze, and of course, Finley’s buttermilk apple pie. Homemade wine and moonshine filled their glasses as they toasted to Béla, and River shared their stories of working in the mine as a kid.

“How did you even end up working there?” Finley asked as she eyed up the last slice of venison.

“Well…” River reached across the table with their fork and stabbed it, but stretched farther to place it on her plate, then poured her another glass of wine. “Don’t even try to tell me you’re full.”

Finley gently shook her head as she picked up her knife, waiting for River to continue.

“When the miller’s wife brought me home, she promised her husband she’d put me to work around the farm and sometimes that meant just havin’ me run down to the store for supplies. Bein’ a company town, there was no exchange of money, I just picked up a sack of whatever she needed and they wrote it down. Well, I made the mistake of addin’ on a piece of candy one day ‘cause I didn’t know better and figured Mr. Stonebraker would never know neither, especially if I gobbled it down on the two miles back to the farm.

“But of course he did. And he started whoopin’ on me, grabbed up my waist-length hair and took the sheep shears to it. Told me I wasn’t worth my keep, that at least a real boy could go work. He hated that his wife let me run around in boy’s knickers and bibs. She said he hurt me just to get to her, but in spite of him, she cleaned up the choppy mess on my head and cut up some of her own skirts to make new trousers for me and sent me to the mine with the mule. Said he wasn't wrong and that the mountain had big plans for us.” River chuckled and took a long sip of moonshine. “Boy, was she ever right.”

Finley wanted to ask more about their family and what they meant by the wife bringing them home, but decided against it as she took another sip of the wildberry wine.

“My sweetheart’s the mule in the mine,” River sang out, thumping their fist with a beat. “I drive her without reins or lines. On the bumper, I sit, I chew and I spit, all over my sweetheart’s behind.”

Snorting, Finley choked on her drink. “That’s awful, River.”

“Well, it was awful work,” they laughed. “I think I made maybe fifty cents a day at the most. And it all went to the company store under the miller’s account. I never saw a damn dime. Although, he didn’t starve me too bad and the barn was warm most of the time so I suppose I shouldn’t complain.”

The lynx who had eaten most of his meal under the table now hopped onto the chair between them, begging for more. <And sleepin’ with his wife wasn't so bad neither.>

Finley looked up from cutting him a piece of meat as River dumped him off the chair. “You slept with his wife?”

They nodded, swallowing another long swig of moonshine. “Young and dumb.”

Pawing at her thigh, the lynx looked up at her again with those big, round, silver eyes and she slipped him the last bite of venison. “Will he let me pet him?”

The smile returned to River's face as they peered down at him. “Oh, he’d love that.”

Love wasn’t quite the right word, but the lynx tolerated her and even purred a little as she scratched behind his ear. Through his thick, silky fur, the red garnet on her finger began to brighten, but she was focused elsewhere.