Page 41 of Redemption in the Dark (The Righteous 5)
Wolf looked like she’d told him her greatest sin as his mouth fell open.
“How have you never tried French toast? I mean, it’s a breakfast staple, a delicacy, a freaking work of art.” The laugh bubbled up instantly as she took in Wolf’s serious expression, which only seemed to upset him more. He shook his head, mumbling something before sitting the pan on the stove. “Well, you’re going to get to try it now. I hope you like maple ‘cause I make mine a little unique.”
“I’ve only ever had maple whiskey. Is it like that?”
“No, definitely not like maple whiskey.” Wolf looked over at her, his eyes hidden from her in the single dull light in the kitchen. “It’s much sweeter.”
She squirmed on the couch. Could she give him a dictionary of words to say just like he said, sweeter? Holy fuck! It sounded like he was rolling it around in his mouth, and she wanted him to whisper it in her ear as he pushed himself inside her.
Maeve let out a long, steady breath, averted her gaze to look at anything else, and found a book on the table called “I am Cherokee.” Picking it up, she flipped open the cover, and there was a really old photo of a man sitting on horseback. It said his name was Chief Running Horse and then had a list of who he was. She slouched into the couch, got comfy, and began to read.
Her Indigenous history was sketchy at best, and the story of the man that had stood strong against those that tried to hurt his people moved her. Her eyes flew over the words, and soon she was pages in and wiping away tears.
She could smell the smoke in her nose, hear the screams of those that ran from invaders, and taste blood on her tongue as she took in the horrific scenes playing out in her mind. Her body trembled as she stared at a page of horses and men running toward an army with rifles.
She ran her hand along the page as if she’d be able to feel the scene before her. She tried to pronounce the Cherokee word for brave—Glosbe, written under the image. Wolf called out her name, and she looked up, momentarily confused by where she was and disappointed that she had to stop reading.
“Breakfast is ready.”
He held up a plate with what looked like a mountain on it, and her stomach rumbled. Something about this man and this place made her feel almost human and not the carnal animal of self-destruction she’d been most of her life.
“Let’s go,” she said to Duke as she stood.
He followed at her side to the table, and as she sat down, he laid down at her feet. Some people came into a person’s life and made more of an impact than could be put into words. This man, his place, his history, and even his dog called to her in a way that she couldn’t even put into words. Was it really a thing to find what you’ve always needed where you’d least expect it?
Wolf wondered if this was a good idea. He watched as his mother knelt in the garden and showed Maeve how to harvest the vegetables. He could hear her soft voice explaining how they always give thanks for their food and how not one thing was ever wasted. Whether it was one of the animals or the fruits and vegetables, every piece was precious and should be treated that way.
Maeve was focused on his mother, like she was sharing the secrets of how the world was created. Duke laid a few feet away, his ears up and eyes watchful. It made his heart smile to see the dog show real interest in someone and his old duties, but he worried about what would happen when Maeve was gone.
The thought of her being put behind bars or simply not being here with him anymore was unsettling, which only confused him further about the entire situation.
She looked over at him and smiled wide. The look was only a moment, but his body warmed, so he cracked his neck. Every minute she was near him, it was getting more difficult not to want to cross the boundaries he’d put in place, but she was always pushing them. Even when she wasn’t trying, she poked at his resolve.
“Waya, what weighs on you,” my grandmother said, making him start. For an elderly woman with a cane, she was like a ghost when she walked.
“Elisi,” Wolf greeted his grandmother. She didn’t like it when he addressed her in English. “I am not sure,” he answered truthfully.
“Hmm,” she said and then stood there silently until he couldn’t take it anymore. He guessed he knew where he learned it from, though.
“What do you want to tell me, Elisi?”
He knew his grandmother well enough to know that she wanted to give him her opinion, but she wouldn’t say it unless he asked her to share.
“Not all waters are calm, but that doesn’t mean they are not passable,” she said softly, her dark eyes shining with wisdom.
“Even if the water may drown you?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the pitchfork he’d been using.
“All waters can drown you. Even that puddle over there that you’d let a babe splash in could drown you if you fell in it wrong.”
“So, you think I should go for it,” he asked.
“I think only you can answer that question, but you need to remember not to be afraid of the water just because you’re afraid to learn to swim.”
He smirked at his grandmother as she patted his arm and wandered away to join the other two women. That woman should’ve been a politician. Walking away, he made his way into the barn that housed his father’s horses. His father had been breeding painted quarter horses since before he was born. There was nothing quite as peacful as the barn when all the horses were outside, and a gentle breeze blew through the large doors.
He worked quickly, mucking out the stalls, and was in the process of stacking the newest load of hay in the loft when he heard someone coming up the ladder and instinctively knew it was Maeve.
“Wow, I had no idea that farm work could be so tiring and sweaty,” Maeve said, making her way out of the access to the loft before flopping down on a pile of the bales, her arm over her eyes.
