10. || white lie.

Stepping into River's kitchen was like entering some kind of time warp. A wood cookstove enameled in porcelain sat at the end of a couple pine cabinets that lined the walls. Across from it was a vintage refrigerator to match and a chippy white hoosier stocked with everything Finley would need to make her grandmother's buttermilk apple pie.

She had just finished fluting the crust and was setting it inside the refrigerator when River reappeared in the kitchen doorway. Suspenders held up their brown corduroy trousers and a navy henley hugged their chest, unbuttoned at the neck where a rawhide necklace disappeared beneath it.

"Change your mind after seein' the ol' cookstove?" The right corner of their lips turned up into a smile, but Finley could tell by the look in their eyes it was a mite bit forced. Whatever she had walked into this morning had clearly come to an end between River and Blaire.

"It's just better if everything chills for a while." As she turned to the hoosier, she covered the apple filling and kept her eyes to the bowl. "I can come back later to finish if you need some time to yourself."

"I need time to myself like a bear needs a bicycle." Reaching over her, River grabbed one of the unchopped apples and sunk their teeth into it with a crunch. "Could really use a distraction," they mumbled through chews. The smell of fresh pine and weed drifted around them as they leaned against the counter next to her. "How 'bout ya tell me what it is I'm supposed to be helpin' ya with. This favor, I mean."

Finley had rehearsed what she was gonna say over and over again this morning while the bittercold spring water fell from the rusted showerhead, down over her body; the chill of it still ached deep in her bones. So much so, that when River reached out to prop open the fridge for her, a shiver nearly shook the bowl of filling from her hands.

But River caught the side of it and helped her slide it in next to the crust. And as their hand brushed against hers, she caught them staring for the second time this morning at the garnet ring on her finger. She criss-crossed her arms against her chest, hiding the ring to her side and they quickly took another bite of apple, closing the refrigerator with their boot.

"If you're cold, I uh, can put another log—"

"I need you to drive me to the old mine."

And that wasn't at all how she'd planned, how she wanted to explain why she needed to get to the mine with maybe a few white lies before asking flat-out. Over the past seven years, she'd grown so accustomed to sorting out everything in her head before speaking, even deceiving when necessary, anything to minimize conflict. But she hadn't always been like that and there was something about River that brought out who she used to be, whether she liked it or not.

Except, River was silent now, other than the crunch of apple between their jaws. Their dark eyes had narrowed, brows furrowed as they chewed and crunched and stared her down.

"I might need to borrow some tools..." Finley continued cautiously. "A flashlight, a hammer, or maybe a pry-bar if you have one..."

As they swallowed, a sly grin spread across their face, one that was genuine this time and fully reached their eyes. "What could you possibly want with that god-forsaken mine?"

Finley twisted the ring off her finger and set it on the porcelain counter between them. River's smile flicked down, but instead of saying anything, they turned away a little and took another bite of apple.

"I've seen you eyeing this up, River. What do you know about it?"

"Oh ya know, just tryin' to figure out if it's a weddin' ring or not is all."

"It's not," Finley replied a little too quick and a little too sharp. "Not mine at least."

"Not yours is damn right," River shot back as they glanced out the sink window and tugged its burlap curtain closed.

"On second thought, I think I'll just hike there myself. I'm sorry I bothered you." Swiping the ring from the counter, Finley turned to the back door, but River gently caught her wrist.

"Lil wad of chewin' gum holdin' that almighty garnet in place, yeah?" Their voice softened as their thumb rubbed against her skin, coaxing her palm open.

She tried to keep her eyes on River, worried this was some kinda trick, but curiosity pried at her fingers. As River let go of her wrist, she held the ring up to check beneath the stone where a gray wad of what definitely could be old chewing gum secured the garnet to the setting.

Her heart pounded in her chest as River reached up again, carefully taking the ring to slide it back on her finger. "Knowin' what I know 'bout this ring ain't gonna do ya no good."

"I just want to return it," she confessed with barely a whisper. But River heard her and looked up from their hands with curious eyes. Every rehearsed lie she had for going to the mine left her mind and truth came spilling out instead. "The ring's cursed. But I think you know that. It's been following the women in my family far too long, attracting all sorts of darkness like some kinda malignant magnet, but that ends with me. It has to. I won't be able to escape it again." Finley flexed her fingers out, but as the garnet caught the shine of the light, she balled up her fist. "I'm good as dead if the Demon finds me again."

"Demon...?" River echoed the word, but didn't say anymore and Finley worried she'd said too much.

"I'm uh, making myself sound crazy, huh?" She laughed a little and slapped on one of those plastic coy smiles she'd mastered over the years. "I meant more of an inner-demon." But River wasn't having any of that and cut her right off.

"No, now don't do that, Boots. You don't need to do that here. Not with me. You said the Demon and ya damn well meant it the way ya said it. That don't make ya crazy, 'least as far as I'm concerned."

Finley's eyes shut as she inhaled a sharp breath, a painful relief she didn't realize she needed. It was one thing to say the word aloud to Buckmouse last night, but the last time she started talking spirits and demons with another person she thought she could trust, well, they locked her up for thirty days only to release her straight back into the belly of the beast.

"So you believe me, then?"

"Any reason I shouldn't?" River's brows lifted, letting the light soften their dark eyes. Finley took another deep breath, but no words of reassurance came out. "Well, like I said, I'm just some dumb, long-legged, hillbilly so if a strange, no-named, pretty woman shows up in my woods, covered in bruises, tellin' me she's gotta dump her great-granny's cursed garnet 'cause some demon's chasin' her, well shit, I suppose I'd believe her. Even if she don't seem to believe herself."

And that was the truth, wasn't it? Because knowing the truth and believing it were two separate things, something Finley was still trying to reconcile.

"The mine though," River hesitated, folding their arms against their chest. "It's been an awful long time since I was up that way. Gotta few demons of my own hangin' round there. And like you, I ain't lookin' for a reunion." Their jaw tightened, deepening their sharp features, but they started humming that old tune that Finley was sure she knew. "I could let ya take the jeep though. Don't like the idea of ya goin' up them old roads yourself, but I—"

"I can't drive."

"You said you were in a fender-bender yesterday."

"Never said I was driving."

River looked at her all auger-eyed, piercing her in place. "No, I suppose ya didn't."

Finley leaned against the hoosier, circling her thumb through the leftover flour on the countertop. "I'll cook and bake for you for the next month, Thanksgiving included."

But River's keen eyes remained the same, hungry for more of the truth; something she couldn't give them right now 'cause only the bony, undead, twenty-one point, not-deer named Buckmouse seemed to know the back-half of it. No, she had to find something else to feed their hunger.

"You said you could use a distraction," Finley murmured. "I can offer more of a full service kinda deal, if that's something you'd be interested in, I mean." And she could tell they knew what she meant with the way their scarred brow raised. Slowly, they panned the length of her, keeping their gaze low. "Listen River, I don't have my own money or nothing of value to offer you. I just need you to get me to the mine. I can figure the rest out on my own."

As River's eyes roamed back up to meet hers, they took the last bite of apple then tossed its core into the bin next to the hoosier. Without another word, they tipped their head towards the doorway and started walking away.

Finley followed them past a table set for two into a small living area where animal pelts and antlers of all sizes hung from the knotty pine walls. A sole leather chair looked out through a pair of hinged paneled windows into the woods and down the crick. Stacks of yellow-paged books laid beside the chair while others were crammed into two bookcases that flanked the stone fireplace. A black bear skin rug stretched in front of the hearth, covering most of the floor. Flames flickered and cracked through a couple logs in the fireplace, halting Finley before its amber glow.

"Your home is beautiful, River."

"I like it enough." They tugged at the cuff of their shirt, using it to wipe a dusty oil lamp on the rough hewn mantle. "Well, c'mon, it's all still gonna be here when we're done."

<Hopefully.>

The subtle change in what Finley still believed to be River's voice was enough to pull her eyes from the embers, but River just gave a sheepish smile before slipping down the dark hall. There was a peculiar hurry in their step as they disappeared behind the bedroom door.

"Oh, you wanna do this, like right now?" Finley called out, looking down at her floured hands, dusting them off on her dress. She pussyfooted towards the bedroom, stopping just before the open door to steal a glance at herself in the glass gun cabinet at the end of the hall.

"Unless you uh, got somewhere else to be," River answered, a little breathy. There was a strange shuffling of feet coming from the bedroom, but as Finley peeked inside, River slammed the windows above their bed shut, latching the bolts top and bottom. With a heavy sigh, they turned back around. "So now, yeah?"

Finley nodded, inching her way into the room. An antique mandolin hung on the wall next to her along with a fiddle that looked just as old, but a newer guitar leaned against the Victorian headboard. On top of an old Eastlake dresser sat a pair of whiskey glasses and a mason jar half-full of liquid courage.

"Do you mind if I have a drink first?" Finley asked.

"Course not. Go ahead and have a seat."

She obliged and sat at the edge of the bed atop a fur blanket that felt far too soft beneath her fingertips to be fake. River rubbed out the inside of both glasses before filling them then handed one to her. She gulped it down, barely letting the spiced whiskey touch her tongue and its heat coursed through her just as fast.

River poured her another drink before even taking a sip of their own. "Shoulder still hurt?"

"Oh, uh no." Finley rolled and rotated it just to check. "It's actually all right."

"Good." Instead of finishing their drink, River set it on the dresser, then knelt down in front of her. As they took her boot in their hands, another flush of heat swept through her, pushing out any cold ache in her bones. They slid the zipper down and gently slipped her boot off, giving it a good look-over before standing back up to walk over to their closet.

"You want my boots?" Finley asked nervously. "They're sorta trashed, but they might still be worth something."

No response came from behind the closet door, just that same old hum, though she could hear River rummaging around. As she swallowed the last sip of whiskey, already a buzz filled her mind and its warmth continued to spread through her. Setting her glass down on the bedside table, she raked her fingers through the lush gray fur of the blanket, realizing then that she felt more high than any kind of drunk.

"River, is there something in this moonshine?"

"It's 'stilled straight from the stream," their voice carried around the closet door. "So like I said, minerals and—"

"Stuff. Right." The more she pet the blanket, the more she wanted it on her bare skin. Reaching behind her neck, she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to her waist. "I just know for sure you had a black eye last night, but it's all gone except that mark on your cheek. And mine, well, you said it was gone, but clearly it's not. So I just need to know if you're messin' with me." Pulling the blanket up around her chest, she glanced back as River emerged from the closet. "You can do whatever you want with my body, just don't mess with my head."

"You have my word, Boots." River set a pair of hiking boots on the floor and pulled over the stool from the vanity to sit in front of her. "But I wasn't messin' with ya. I said it'd help heal the wounds you can't see, didn't I? Sometimes that means the old stuff's gotta resurface somehow." River took her other boot in their hands and slipped it off like the other. "Now, if you're done fondlin' my blanket, how 'bout you try these on? I'll find ya some clothes too."

But Finley was still trying to process what they'd said about the moonshine. "Wait, what?"

River reached down and held up the pair of hiking boots. "I don't mean to sound anti-feministic, but I doubt Mr. Manuelos would like you scramblin' down an ol' coal mine in his high-heels. I figure if you're gonna be stickin' round for a bit longer tendin' to me, least I can do is give ya some proper boots."

"So we're not..." Finley clutched the fur blanket tighter to her body. "You're taking me to the mine now?"

"Aye, I'll ride ya to the mine."