“Lots of good stuff.”
“Smells like Cletus’s coffee. I’m guessing there’s some molasses and apple cider vinegar.”
“What’s he doing drinking the bowel blaster?”
I snort and try to cover it with a cough. “That’s a terrible name.”
“Terrible, yet accurate. I didn’t invent it, and neither did he. The old-timers have been drinking similar brews for generations, long before we had over-the-counter relief. A lot of folks can’t afford health insurance or don’t trust modern medicine, so they still use the old ways.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” The adrenaline shock of finding Odin in my house is wearing off, and I’m tired down into my bones.
I shuffle over to my couch and rearrange the blankets over my lap, pulling them up to my chin as I slump down into the pillows. I don’t remember bringing either out to the living room and wonder how much snooping he’s done under the guise of being helpful.
“I learned from my mother, who learned from hers and so on back a few generations. My great-grandmother is still alive, and I’ve been able to study with her. Still perfecting the recipe.”
“Won’t she give it to you?”
“Nannie Ida doesn’t write anything down. It’s all in her head with adjustments made on the fly as she’s cooking.”
“What if she forgets?” Great-grandmother? The woman has to be old.
“Then we’re all screwed and the knowledge is gone forever. Hence why I’m working with her to collect all of her secrets. She learned from her mother, who was one of the original granny-women in these mountains. They knew how to do everything.”
“I’ve never heard of granny women. Isn’t that kind of …”
“Redundant?” He smirks. “Yes, I know, but that’s what folks called ’em. Some might say they’re healers who practiced herbal magic mixed with pragmatic Southern stubbornness. Throw in poverty and the fear of God, and you’ve got yourself a real Appalachian granny.”
I’m intrigued. “She kind of sounds like a witch.”
“Nannie Ida wouldn’t approve of that label. No matter how cool it might be to younger women, in her day, it was a slur. She’d tell you she’s only using what the mountains provide.”
“Fascinating.” Now I’m even more curious about the brew simmering away on my rarely used stove.
“Ready to try some?”
Enthusiastically, I nod.
He fixes me a cup and watches while I take my first sip. At first taste, it’s both bitter and sweet, sour enough to pucker my cheeks. A heat from the spices lingers in my mouth and burns going down my throat. As soon as it appears, some other ingredient numbs away the discomfort.
“I wouldn’t call it delicious, but it is good. I can feel my sinuses clearing up already.” To prove my point, I inhale through my nose.
An expression I haven’t seen before flashes across his face: pride.
“Are you hungry? Jay dropped off his mom’s ramen, or I can make you another cup of noodles?”
“I’m good for now.” I continue drinking the magical liquid while trying not to stare at Odin. It is strongly possible that I am still asleep.
“You seem better now.” He stands behind the unoccupied arm chair. “I’ll get going.”
There’s no reason for him to stay. He’s been here for hours and hours. I can’t ask him to hang around.
“You probably need to get home and take care of your pets.”
Even so, I don’t want him to leave. As odd as it is to have him here, I feel comfortable with him in my house.
“Eh, they’ll be all right.” He lingers behind the chair.
“Thanks for cooking for me. What do I owe you for the groceries?”
Dismissing my question with a wave of his hand, he smiles. “Nothing. I enjoyed helping.”
I may still be dreaming.
Chapter Seventeen
Odin
I’m on my own today and decide to switch up my routine, and taking a trail that heads north from the loop road. This route leads me past the historic buildings clustered together in the open spaces of the park. None of them are original to this site, each has been relocated for optimum historic charm—a lie formed from pieces of truth.
This false narrative has always bugged me, turning a community into a zoo for tourists to come enjoy as a slice of real Appalachian charm.
Hundreds of families, thousands of people were displaced from this area when the park was formed. Structures deemed unworthy were torn down, dismantled and erased. Sure, there are plenty of period buildings still scattered around the mountains, some still in the same families that homesteaded the land where they sit. Like my place, these homes remain closed to the public.
Despite a successful foraging experience, I find myself crankier than when I set out on my hike. The whole reason I came out here was to gather more mushrooms for Ida and Lena to make a new batch of tinctures. Nannie asked and I wasn’t about to turn her down.
The leaves are beginning to turn so the foliage peepers cram the trails and jam the single-lane road. I don’t know how they stand the crowds. Enjoying nature isn’t possible if you’re surrounded by people and cars. Misses the entire point of losing oneself in the wilderness.
I’m not fit for other humans today. Deciding to take the shortest route back to my truck, I leave the trail and walk alongside the road.
My foul mood has nothing to do with the fact that it has been almost a week since I hung out with Daphne. I assume she’s well and recovered.
A white NPS SUV passes me, slows, and pulls to the shoulder a few yards ahead. After the bear destroyed her car, Daphne said she’d be driving an official vehicle until she could get something else, and I quicken my pace, hopeful she’s behind the wheel. The passenger side window is down when I approach and I lean in, expecting to see her face.
“Afternoon, Odin. Mind if we have a talk?” Griffin flashes a friendly smile.
I don’t mask my disappointment as my mood sours further. “Guess not.”
“Hop in.”
Griffin Lee is probably a nice person but the last I knew of him, he was a class clown who never took anything seriously. Now he’s a ranger and law enforcement within park boundaries. Someone even decided it was a good idea to let him carry a gun—not that I’m saying he would be irresponsible with a firearm. I’m sure he passed all of the tests with flying colors.
Life is strange. If I’m proof that people can change, I guess nothing should surprise me about anybody else.
“How’s the farming?” he asks.
“Fine. Harvest is almost over and most of the field is getting prepared for winter.” I scratch behind my ear. “How’s the ranger business?”
“Good. Busy now, but come November things will really quiet down.” He glances out the window and back at me. “Must be nice to have some more free time on your hands.”
I nod, confused as to the point of this chat.
“I know we grew up together and share kin in common, Odin.” Bringing up family doesn’t comfort me. “So it was important for me to be the one to question you.”