A Sky for Us Alone

by Kristin Russell

  “I hope it’s worth your while,” she said. “Whenever you’re able to move around freely again, anyway. Your ankle needs wrapping, if not a splint,” she said, leaning over the chair where it rested.

  She pushed up my pant leg to my knee, and we both saw that there was more damage than either of us knew, with a gash along my shin. “That’s on its way to infection if we don’t take care of it,” Nuna said. She stood up, went to the rack of shelves, and came back with a pair of scissors. “Sorry about the jeans, but there’s really no other way,” she said, and cut from the bottom up. She went back to the shelf and dug around in another tin box. Mama Draughn was a master with flour and butter, and it seemed Nuna was the same with herbs. After she boiled some more water and steeped something in it, she returned carrying a bowl, rag, and another small bottle.

  “Where’d you learn all this stuff?” I asked.

  “I’ve never trusted doctors much, so I found some things I could do instead. Our grandmother taught us remedies, and then I read a bunch about it later on.” She cleaned my knee with the stuff from the bowl. I grabbed my leg when the liquid hit my skin, but the sting eased up pretty quick. Next she cut off the part of my jeans that was split open, so it looked like I had shorts on one side, and pants on the other. I looked ridiculous, and was glad Tennessee wasn’t there to see it. Nuna cut the extra material into strips, and then wrapped and tied a few of them around my ankle. I marveled again at how strong she was; the wrap was so tight I don’t think I could have bent it had I tried. “That will speed your recovery time,” she said. “You finish the tea yet?”

  I looked into my cup and drank the rest of it down in one gulp.

  “Look at that. You’re not such a bad patient after all.”

  “Now that I’m not scared you’re trying to poison me or turn me into a toad.”

  “It’s not the first time someone’s wondered if I’m a witch. I’ve been called plenty worse than that.”

  “Do you ever leave here? You must sometimes, to get all of those supplies.” I looked at the corner of the room where all the crates were stacked.

  “Couple times a year I’ll go to Lexington to stock up. I have friends—not many, mind you—but a couple that come visit regular and will bring anything I can’t grow or catch.”

  I yawned and stopped myself midway, covering my mouth.

  “That’s the valerian kicking in,” Nuna said. “And I reckon you didn’t sleep much last night in the hole either. Best thing for healing is always sleep. I’ll fix the bed for you right quick.” She straightened the sheet and blanket on the mattress, and then helped me hobble to it by taking a strong grip around my ribs.

  As soon as my butt hit the bed, I gave in to the drowsiness washing over me. “Just for a little while,” I said, laying my head on the pillow.

  Nuna laughed. “You valley people are always ruled by the clock.”

  “I have to get to Jacob and back home to Tennessee.”

  “I thought you were from Strickland?”

  “Not Tennessee the place; the girl. She’s waiting for me.” I was already too far on my way to sleep to remember anything else I might have mumbled after that.

  When I woke from a deep, dreamless sleep, I sat up too fast and pain seared through my foot and leg.

  “Sore, huh?” Nuna said. “That’s to be expected. I’ll help you to the table.” She came to the bed, where I was now sitting up. “It sounded like you were fighting a battle in your sleep.”

  “Really? I don’t remember anything, but it doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “And now I have to pee.” I scooted to the edge of the bed and winced. “If I can manage to get outside, that is.”

  “Take this with you.” She crossed to the other side of the room and came back with a walking stick. “If you want, there’s a shower beside the outhouse too.”

  If anyone had been watching me take off all of my clothes and then shower, holding my wrapped ankle out of the water and using a walking stick to balance, they would have laughed themselves drunk. The water felt good once I managed to stand under it, though. It didn’t have the same smell as the stuff that came out of our faucets at home. In fact, I found it a little strange that it didn’t smell like anything at all. I was dirtier than I realized, and watched the water wash the grime from my skin. Drying off and dressing was tough, but more than anything, I was glad I’d thought to pick the pants up off my bedroom floor and throw them into my pack.

  As soon as I opened the cabin door again, Nuna’s cooking filled my nostrils and I realized my stomach had been empty for a while.

  “Looks like you’re feeling better now,” she said.

  “Much. Might have gotten my ankle wrap a little wet, though.”

  “That’s all right. After tonight, you should be able to take it off. Wouldn’t advise that you walk too far on it, though.”

  “How long do you think it will take to heal?”

  “Hard to say, because no one heals at the same pace. It’d be best if you could stay off of it for a week, though.” She stirred something in a cast-iron pot and the growling in my stomach turned to pangs.

  “I can’t stay off of it for a week!” I said.

  “It’s your call, Mr. Hurry. I’m not going to force you to do anything. You asked for my opinion, and I gave it.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound upset. I’m just on a bit of a schedule.”

  “I heard that,” she said. “A schedule named Tennessee.”

  It sounded to me like she thought I was fussing over a stupid crush, but I let it go. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I couldn’t stop staring at the pot. Whatever she was cooking smelled as good as Mama Draughn’s kitchen.

  “You and the questions,” Nuna said. “Sit down. Standing certainly won’t get you to heal any faster.”

  It was much harder for me to stop than it was to keep going. Whenever I got still, I felt restless again because that was when my thoughts got loud. It felt like Nate, Tennessee, Mama, and Daddy were all crammed into my brain together, talking all at once. Sometimes it was hard to hear my own voice over all of them.

  Nuna brought two bowls to the table and then a loaf of homemade bread. The stew she’d made had some kind of dark meat, with carrots and potatoes. I watched the steam rise and inhaled the scent. It didn’t quiet all the voices, but like the times I’d slowed down at Mama Draughn’s table, it made me feel much better. I settled a little deeper into my chair and picked up the spoon. Nuna tore off a chunk of bread and handed it to me, then took one for herself. “Go ahead,” she said, and dipped into the bowl.

  “This is incredible,” I told her after the first bite. “I don’t know how you and Mama Draughn turn just a few things into something so different.”

  “I’m glad you like it. It’s venison. I don’t hunt too many deer, but this year, they were overpopulated. They’re running out of space up here.”

  “Seems everyone is,” I said. “Or Amos is pushing them out.”

  “There’s a name no one likes to hear at dinner,” Nuna said.

  “Even up here, huh?” I reached the bottom of my bowl fast.

  “In this house, anyway. I’ll get you some more stew.” She took my bowl and carried it over to the stove.

  “What has he done to you?”

  “You’re still hungry, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She was avoiding my question again, and it got me thinking. “Was it Amos that caused trouble between you and Mama Draughn?”

  “What? The spoon clanked louder against the sides of the pot. I had hit something inside of her.

  She came back to the table, set my bowl in front of me, and leaned over hers like it took all of her concentration to eat a bowl of stew.

  “I don’t think anything about Amos would surprise me now,” I said, sticking the spoon in my mouth.

  “Mmm,” she said, chewing on a piece of bread.

  “Look, Mama Draughn has been more of a mama to me than my own, many times. She’s family
. I guess that makes you like my aunt or something. You can trust me.”

  She laughed, and it was enough encouragement to keep me talking. “You’re relentless,” she said.

  “I know.” I remembered Nuna’s hand on little June’s arm in the photograph, and her asking me how much I knew about her earlier. “Does it have something to do with Amos and June?” I asked.

  She shot a quick look at me and narrowed her eyes just enough that I saw the answer in them.

  “Did Mama D ever—” But I jumped at loud banging on Nuna’s door and my spoon fell to the ground before I could finish the question.

  “Shhh!” Nuna whispered, and grabbed her shotgun before walking soundlessly to the door.

  Chapter 43

  “WHO’S THERE?” NUNA YELLED, and the knocking stopped.

  “I can’t find my key,” a voice said from the other side.

  Nuna unlocked the door. “Damn it, Peter, why didn’t you say it was you in the first place?” She leaned her shotgun against the wall and let a tall man walk through the door. “Shit, what’s happened to you?” she asked.

  The man was covered from head to foot in black grime. The whites of his eyes stood out, but nothing else. “My house caught fire,” he said, then leaned back against the door to steady himself and catch his breath. “Trees behind it are still burning to the ground.”

  Nuna covered her mouth, then wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her head into his chest. “Here.” She pulled a chair from the table for him. Then she brought three mugs and a bottle of whiskey to the table. She gave him a generous pour and splashed a little in the other two mugs. “Let me bring you some food,” she said. “What happened?”

  The man walked to the sink first and washed his hands and face, then sat down at the table. “Don’t exactly know. Could be this was Amos’s way of showing he won’t take no for an answer. He’s been after me for so long to sell him the land.”

  “What makes you think he’s done something now?” Nuna asked.

  “You going to introduce us?” the man asked Nuna, and looked at me uneasily.

  “This is Harlowe,” Nuna said. “And that’s Peter.”

  I swallowed another sip of whiskey. “Wait, is your last name Macnab?”

  He glanced up at me from his bowl. “Inquisitive, ain’t he?” he said to Nuna.

  “You’ve no idea.” She smiled.

  “That’s right,” he said. “You live in the valley?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can only guess the stories you’ve heard about me,” Macnab laughed.

  “I’ve heard a few,” I said.

  “Fine with me. For the most part, it’s made people leave me alone. Until now, of course.”

  “I’m sorry about your house,” I said.

  “So go ahead.” Nuna leaned across the table toward Macnab. “Harlowe’s a friend of Darla’s. He’s safe, for the most part.”

  “I was only gone for an hour. Went to town for the things you asked I bring here tomorrow. Before I got back on Kinley, I saw the smoke. I ran in, but the flames were already too high, and I had to leave quick before the roof fell in. Noticed a can of gasoline that wasn’t mine on my porch.”

  “Makes me sick,” Nuna said. “Though I wondered if it’d come to something like this.”

  “I thought you were going to speak with Darla about it. He’s always left her alone.”

  Nuna’s eyes cut back toward me. “I don’t want to get into all of that tonight,” she said to Macnab.

  She pushed her hair back from her face, the white streak of hair like a skunk tail warning. Then she stood, went to the shelves, and came back with a wooden box and a set jaw. She handed Macnab a joint, and when he took it, his fingers wrapped around her hand and held it for a moment. Then he leaned over the candle, inhaled, and fell back into his chair on the exhale. After another hit, he passed the joint to Nuna. She brought it to her mouth and blew streams of smoke through her nostrils. I wondered if Nuna was mad at me for asking too many questions, until she passed me the joint and said, “No more talk of Amos from anyone here. He’s burned enough bridges, and we don’t need to add fuel by giving him more thought.”

  “You’re right,” Macnab said. “I need to get cleaned up, then I’ll bring in your things.”

  “I’ll get them,” I said, feeling I should do more than eat and drink at such a time.

  “Not with that ankle, you won’t,” Nuna said.

  It was strong weed, and I’d forgotten about the pain.

  “Go on, love,” Nuna said to Macnab. “I’ll get the things from your truck.”

  I stared at the candle and wondered what could have ever made Mama Draughn fall for Amos. I remembered her saying he hadn’t always been such a bad person and what she’d said about Tommy’s dying maybe straightening him out. But if it really was Amos that set fire to Macnab’s place, it seemed the only thing Tommy’s death had done was make him even more cruel.

  Nuna came back with two bags and started putting things away in the small icebox, and on the shelves next to it.

  “Seems like you’ve both known each other a long time,” I said, speaking my thoughts even more freely.

  “We’re an odd pair; I won’t argue with anyone about that,” Nuna said.

  “Will he move up here now?”

  “Oh no,” she said, her back still turned to me. “At least not for good. He loves his land, and knows I want to stay here. Sometimes I think that’s what draws us together, a bit of distance—keeps our longing for each other alive.”

  “But you never wanted a family?”

  Nuna laughed. “You’re sentimental, like Darla. No, love doesn’t look the same for everyone. The house, kids, always together and never apart—someone wrote that novel and then made a movie out of it. Peter and me wrote our own. It wouldn’t have worked any other way for either of us.”

  Macnab walked through the door with water dripping from his hair and beard, but not a stitch of clothes on his body. I laughed out loud at the sight of him, but was glad I caught myself before either of them seemed to notice. Nuna looked at him and rolled her eyes, then threw him a towel.

  “You never complained before,” Macnab said to her.

  “And I’m not complaining now. It’s good to see you without all the soot.”

  He tucked the towel around his waist and pulled her close to him. “It’s good to see you too,” he said, and kissed her long enough for me to feel uncomfortable, and look away. “You might be stuck with me for a little,” he said.

  “Fine by me,” Nuna said. “We’ve made it through worse.”

  I saw they needed some time alone, as much as they could have with the three of us in such a tight space. “I’ll make a pallet and lie down for the night, if that’s okay,” I said.

  Nuna broke free from Macnab and I followed her to the corner of the room, where she spread out a bear skin and a quilt, and threw me a pillow. After I lay down, I listened to them talking and laughing until I fell asleep. The next morning, Wednesday, Macnab was still snoring on the bed, and Nuna was making breakfast in the kitchen.

  She handed me a mug of black coffee and said, “How’s the ankle?”

  “Much better,” I said, and realized I had walked from the bed to the kitchen without the stick or too much pain. I cleared my eyes and lifted the mug to my lips, feeling a little groggy from the weed and whiskey the night before. “I think I can take the bandage off now,” I said, and leaned over my foot. “I’d like to get going soon.”

  “Up to you,” she said, and set a plate of corncakes in front of me. “But you already know my thoughts on the matter.”

  Macnab walked up behind Nuna and grabbed her around the hips. She leaned back into him, and even from where I sat, I could tell there was a smile on her face. He carried his coffee to the table and sat next to me. I thought of how I’d told Tennessee that he was so weird when we passed his cabin on the way to Ryan’s party, and wished she’d been there to meet him and Nuna right then. I kne
w she’d love them.

  “So what’s your plan, unless you’d like to tell me that it’s none of my business,” Macnab asked.

  “I was hoping to hike the rest of the way to my friend’s place at Hogan’s Cross today,” I said.

  “But he has a sprained ankle,” Nuna added.

  “Well, I can drive you there, if you like.” He took one of the corncakes from the plate and ate half of it in one bite.

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind, that’d be great,” I said.

  “No problem.” He grabbed another corncake and smiled at Nuna. I figured he would be glad to have the cabin back for just the two of them. I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t wait to have that kind of time with Tennessee.

  Chapter 44

  “THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING. There’s no telling what shape I’d be in right now if you hadn’t found me,” I told Nuna as I packed up my things.

  “You would have found your way out. In fact, now that I know you a little, I’m sure you would have.”

  Macnab waited for me by the door while I hugged Nuna goodbye, and then pointed the way to his truck, parked about a hundred yards from the cabin. By the time we reached it, my ankle was throbbing again, and I was even more grateful that I wasn’t hiking the rest of the way to Ryan’s place.

  While Macnab drove, things were quieter between the two of us than they’d been in the cabin with Nuna. I guess a man who lives alone most of the time gets used to silence and doesn’t always feel the need to fill it. He turned on the radio, and through the static, we listened to a news channel, until he turned it to classic rock.

  “Don’t know about you, but it doesn’t bring me much comfort knowing things are hard for everyone all over,” he said.

  “I’ll take the Eagles over that,” I agreed.

  “Impressed you know who they are.”

  “My brother was into all the old stuff,” I said. “Good stuff,” I added.