Chapter 51
Remy
As soon as Jordy opened the door to the garage and Vince caught sight of me, the mule let out an ear-splitting bray of excitement. His tale wagged back and forth as he trotted over to me.
“Easy there, big fella,” Jordy warned him gently.
Vince started nuzzling me, still braying and snorting. He nearly knocked me over in his happiness, but Jordy’s hand was on my waist, steadying me. It still hurt like hell, his big head pressing against my broken bones and bruises, but I grimaced and kept it to myself.
“I missed you, too, Vince.” I pressed my forehead against his and stroked his thick fur with my good hand. “Sorry I haven’t been able to visit you sooner.”
Vince was well-groomed, and he’d put on some weight since I saw him last. So had I, because we were both so underweight when we reached Xwechtáal over a month ago.
The garage worked nicely as a stable, with plenty of straw on the floor and a bucket of fresh water.
There was even a window, so Vince got sunlight as well as a view of a maple tree and Jordy’s house next door.
The other mule came over more slowly to meet me. He was a bit smaller than Vince, with a coat of dark gray, but he was happy to accept pets and oats from me.
“Buck’s actually enjoyed having a roommate around,” Jordy said, giving his mule a hearty scratch. “I think he gets a little lonely in the winter since we don’t go out as much.”
“Vince seems very happy here,” I said.
“He’s happy you’re here,” Jordy clarified. “But I’ve been doing what I can to take care of him.”
“Well, we both really appreciate it.” I looked over at Jordy, meeting his gaze to convey the depth of my gratitude. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to repay you for everything you’ve done.”
“Not everything can be repaid, and not everything needs to be.” He smiled at me, then turned his attention back to the mule. “Sometimes health and happiness is enough.”
Vince let out an appreciative snort and nuzzled me again. But this time he accidentally pushed a little too hard, and I inhaled sharply through my teeth.
“Are you okay?” Jordy asked, and his hands moved to my hip and my good arm to support me without hurting me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, still wincing from the pain.
“That’s probably enough visiting with Vince for today,” Jordy said. “We’ll go over to my house, and you can have a rest and some tea.”
I gave Vince one last pat and promised I’d see him again soon, and then Jordy helped me out the door.
It was February, and the temps were still below freezing.
With my left arm in a sling, I couldn’t handle much in terms of layers.
I wore one of Jordy’s thick flannel shirts with one arm in the sleeve and the other sleeve hanging empty.
The pants were an old pair of fleece pajamas, and I’d managed to get my feet into my boots.
Not that I had really dressed myself by myself. I couldn’t even brush my hair. Jordy had put it in a long braid for me, so it wouldn’t get in the way.
It was such a strange thing how quickly I’d gotten used to his hands on me. Not in a sexual way or anything. Generally I didn’t like being physically close to any person outside my family. Jordy didn’t feel like family. But he felt safe, steady, and strong as he helped me.
The pathway between the garage and the house wasn’t very long, but the cold was harsh enough that I was trying to jog.
Jordy wouldn’t let me, though. He kept an arm secure around my lower waist, refusing to let me hurry myself into an injury.
He stood tall and coiled himself around me, using his body to shield me from the wind.
From the outside, Jordy’s house looked like a rustic one-story cabin, and technically, from the inside it looked that way. That is, assuming, anyone could see past the piles of clutter. Mostly books, stacked up against the walls. Piled on tables. Used as tables and furniture themselves.
It was basically all one room with a small kitchen tucked into the back beside a table covered in herbs and all kinds of utensils. The shelves on the kitchen were overflowing with mismatched pots and pans, as wells jars and satchels.
On the other side of the house was a sitting area in front of the fireplace – one comfy chair, and an end table made of books – and then a large bed in the other corner, once again surrounded by books.
“Wow.” My eyes were wide as I tried to take in all the clutter that filled up such a small space.
“Wow?” He looked at me, suddenly uncertain. “Why did you say it like that?”
“I guess I wasn’t expecting so much stuff,” I admitted honestly. There were even plants and cheesecloth pouches hanging from the rafters.
“The bed is probably the most comfortable space here for you,” he said as he helped me cross over to the sleeping area of the open floorplan.
His bed was neatly made, stacked with plush pillows, so I didn’t doubt it. He leaned over, supporting my back as I maneuvered myself onto the mattress with my one good arm. Once I had, he adjusted the pillows behind me and tugged the blanket into place.
“So you think my place is cluttered?” he asked, glancing around as if looking as his home in a new light.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No. You just said wow,” he replied with a smirk.
I defended my position with, “The apartment I’m staying in is so sparse.”
“Yeah, cause I rent it out. This is where I keep all my possessions.” He gestured around. “And I need a lot of them for my work.”
“No, it makes sense. I’m not trying to make you feel bad.
It just wasn’t what I was expecting. And even if there is a lot of stuff, I can see that everything has a place.
It’s orderly.” I smiled up at him. “Now I understand how you were always able to bring me over so many books. I was afraid I was putting you out, making you track them down all over town or something.”
“I basically grab every book I can get my hands on,” he admitted and raked a hand through his thick black hair.
“What do you do with them all?” I asked as my eyes followed the towers of books on either side of the headboard. “I mean, you have a lot, but you seem to be reaching maximum capacity.”
“If it’s full of useful knowledge, especially relating to chemistry and medicine, or if it’s one of my favorites, like Jack London, I’ll keep it no matter what,” he explained.
“With everything else, I trade them, or I give them away, or I use them as firewood or to make grinleaf. For those, though, I usually pick books I hate or ones I have in duplicate. The Da Vinci Code was a good enough read, but I don’t really need a dozen copies of it. ”
I held my hand to stop him. “Wait. What do you mean you use books to make grinleaf?”
“Well, it’s a whole process.” He took a deep breath before launching into the step-by-step of it. “I grind up a few herbs and naturally occurring ingredients with a pestle and mortar, and then I soak them with ethanol in a cheese cloth for a few days.
“When it gets to be a kind of thick paste, I add apple cider vinegar to liquefy it,” he went on.
“I simmer that concoction in a cast iron pan over low heat until it’s almost a syrup.
Once it has the right viscosity, I pour it out in a shallow dish, so it’s a thin layer about half a centimeter thick.
“That’s when the books finally come into play, because I need paper for the final step,” he continued.
“I tear out a page of a book and submerge it completely, leaving it until it soaks up all remaining liquid. After that, I air dry it for a few days, and then I tear it into little tabs that you put on your tongue.”
“How’d you figure out how to make it?” I asked.
He shrugged, like inventing a drug or a remedy or whatever he wanted to call it wasn’t any big thing. “It sounds a bit like alchemy, but I assure you it’s all very boring chemistry. People were hurting, and I tried a few things that I thought might work until I found something that did.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Why is it called grinleaf?”
“Oh, that one’s easy. When I was first tearing the pieces of paper, I thought they looked a bit like a leaf.”
He went into the kitchen area and grabbed a mason jar full of the green flakes. On the side of the glass jar, he’d drawn a crude picture of a maple leaf with a smiley face in black marker. He shook it up for me like a snow globe, and they did look a bit like leaves falling from a tree.
“So I get the leaf part. What about the grin?” I asked.
“After you take it, you’re grinning from ear to ear,” he replied with a crooked smile, and he returned the jar back to the kitchen shelf.
“So what I’m learning about you is that you’re very smart, very organized, very generous, and you’re also a little bit of a nerd,” I teased.
He laughed as he walked back over to me. “That really takes me back. I don’t think I’ve been called a nerd since I was a teenager.”
“To be fair, it takes one to know one.” I picked up the battered copy of the graphic novel Batman: Shamen sitting on his nightstand. “I used to read comics all the time, but I haven’t read this one.”
“It’s pretty good, although there are dated tropes around some of the tribal elements,” he said. “But since when do people ever get everything right?”
Just then, a knock sounded at the front door, sharp and unexpected.
I glanced over at Jordy, eyebrows raised. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“Not that I know of,” he replied, giving the door a wary look, before he went to answer it.