Chapter X #2
There’s a knock at the door. “Breakfast is served!” comes Jimmy’s voice, clear through the thin plank of wood that serves as the shack’s door. “You two enjoy, now.”
Mariam raises a brow. “Breakfast then, my dear?”
“Mmmmm. Spirits bless him for feeding my woman.” Sable slips off the bed with a soft thud and crosses the room to the closet with ease. “We should dress.”
“Your woman, huh?” Mariam repeats, her brow still raised. “Since when are you my keeper?”
Sable pulls on a shirt, before turning back to smile. “Since you decided to keep me.”
* * *
Breakfast is a feast. Sausage gravy over two biscuits a piece, along with a huge bowl of scrambled eggs with fresh tomatoes, cheese, and salsa on the side. Lastly, there’s a plate stacked high with bacon.
Having missed dinner the night before, Mariam is starving. She eats her fair share of the buffet, but not nearly as much as Sable. She’s not quite sure where Sable puts it all; the woman eats like a pack of growing boys but is still built like a brick shithouse. Mariam is a little jealous.
After the two are done, they head out to the chopping stump.
Mariam takes a seat on a handcrafted wooden bench as Sable picks up the silver-bladed black axe and sets a log standing on end on the stump.
She proceeds to make chopping wood look incredibly easy.
She lets the axe fall, using gravity to split the log in half lengthwise.
Then she takes a half and splits it again, and from the quarter, cleaves a small hunk of wood that looks workable for whittling.
She continues in this way until she’s got a billet from each quarter of the original log, then puts the axe back and gathers the whittling wood in her arms. Her black-and-red flannel shirt contrasts nicely with the light and medium brown tones of the wooden logs, Mariam notices.
Sable winks at her as she waits for Mariam to get up from the bench. She follows her back to the shack, and Mariam closes the distance between them easily, placing her hand on the small of Sable’s back. Sable makes a soft growl, almost a purr.
“Touchy, are you?” she teases as she uses her powers to swing open the door to the shack. She leads the way inside, and Mariam shuts the door behind her.
“I like touching you.”
“Good. I like touching you, too.”
Mariam settles on the bed as Sable takes the green plush chair nearby, scooting it next to Mariam, who soothes some of her wild hair as she gets closer.
Sable takes the knife from her boot, places a plate from breakfast in her lap, and begins to whittle one of the wooden billets.
Mariam watches her strip the bark, then the beginning curls of wood.
Sable’s hands are steady and sure, and her eyes never leave the wood.
Shavings gather on the plate as she works.
She seems to feel where the grain of the wood reverses, skewing the blade to avoid it catching without ever breaking her flow.
“Y’know, you’re really good at that,” Mariam says.
“Why, thank you.” Sable’s lips pull into a small grin.
As Sable continues, Mariam opens her laptop to get back to work on her book, but quickly gets distracted into checking on her sales and how her books are being received by readers.
She feels a quiet sense of pride to see how far she’s come as a writer, and she finds the same feeling welling up as she watches Sable’s carving take shape.
* * *
That evening, Sable is in the bathroom when Mariam hears a knock at the door. Smiling, she gets up off the bed and answers it. It’s Jimmy, of course, holding a tray of dinner. Steaks, mashed potatoes with gravy, and collard greens, stewed with what looks like bacon. “Hi, Jimmy!”
“Well, howdy, Ms. Mariam. I gotcha dinner here.” Jimmy offers the tray and Mariam takes it, glad to see the elderly man return her smile. “Now, where’s the awful tall lady? Ms. Sable?”
“Ah, she’ll be out in a minute. Do you need her?”
“Oh, no! That’s mighty kind. I hope you don’t think me an old man puttin’ his nose in where it don’t belong… but you’re awful fond ‘a her, ain’tcha?” Jimmy says, winking at her.
Mariam feels her cheeks begin to heat. “Er, well, yes, I definitely am. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all, kiddo. I mean, not for me.” He looks to the darkening sky. “Just brings back some good memories.”
“Oh?”
“Do you mind if I get real personal witcha, Ms. Mariam?” he asks.
“Um, okay, go right ahead, Jimmy.” She barely knows the man, so it’s an odd request, but she’s willing to hear him out.
“I had a… lady friend, once many years ago. A Reaper. She was an awful sweet woman, and we were together for many years…”
Mariam frowns and nods sympathetically. “Oh, that’s sweet, Jimmy. I’m sorry, it must have been hard on you when she passed.”
“Oh, she’s very much alive, kiddo. That’s what I’m gettin’ at.
Things didn’t work out with us, ‘cause eventually I was the old man ya see now, and she’s still as young and pretty as ever down to this very day.
” His smile turns cryptic. “These supernatural types, lovin’ them ain’t what it is with a human.
They’ll outlive us a hundred times over.
Don’t mean you can’t enjoy it while it lasts, but just somethin’ to chew on.
” He gently claps her on the shoulder. “I ought to get back. You two have a nice evenin’. ”
Mariam bids him a quiet farewell, her thoughts far away.
She recalls learning the other day that Sable is over two hundred years old and still young for her kind…
whereas she’ll be as old as Jimmy in another fifty or sixty.
She imagines herself an elderly woman alongside Sable looking scarcely older than she does now.
Swallowing hard, Mariam tries to shake the thought and heads back inside, finding Sable waiting for her on the bed with a warm smile.
After dinner, Sable puts the tray out for Jimmy to collect tomorrow morning.
Mariam stretches out her legs and presses her back against the wall behind the bed.
She feels comfortably full and a bit sleepy, but she’s not ready for bed yet.
She shakes herself awake and continues her work while Sable returns to whittling beside her.
She’s made decent progress over the hours; a figurine is taking shape rapidly. “What is that, Sable? Or who?”
“You’ll just have to see, sweet,” Sable answers mysteriously, offering a cheeky smile.
“Hmph. Is it a secret?”
“No.” But Mariam decides not to press further anyway.
In the end, Mariam doesn’t get much more writing done before she finds herself in and out of consciousness and finally admits it’s time for bed.
She curls up on her side and Sable cuddles closer to her, cradling her against herself.
It doesn’t take long for the darkness of sleep to claim Mariam for its own.
But, before she does, her gaze flickers to the whittled figurine one last time, standing by its lonesome on the green chair.