Page 34 of Our Own Light
Arching an eyebrow, Floyd looked over at Ollie.
“Magic?”
“I know plenty of useless stuff.”
“Clearly that wasn’t useless,” Effie said. “Look how happy you made her.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Yeah, it is true,” Floyd said. “That was real kind of you, Ollie.”
Floyd and Ollie smiled at each other for a few long seconds. Effie cleared her throat.
“Oliver, you had speakeasies in New York?” she asked.
“Um, yeah, why?”
Effie stood up from the table and walked over to the counter. “Well, if y’all are finished with supper, maybe you ought to have a treat.”
“What, like a cocktail?” Ollie asked through a confused-sounding laugh.
“Not exactly,” she said, opening a cabinet and pulling out a very old bottle of clear alcohol. “We got this, though.”
Floyd made a face. “Effie, come on, Ollie ain’t gonna try moonshine.”
“Yes, I will,” Ollie sputtered. “Of course I will. Where’d you even find that?”
“Floyd bought it last year over in Mingo County. We barely ever drink it ourselves.”
“Mingo, huh?” Ollie asked, raising his brows in a teasing manner.
“Yeah, I wanted to be nice, is all,” Floyd responded, trying to keep his voice level even though his heart was starting to hammer a little thinking of the striking miners and the fight he’d had with Ollie in front of the company store. “Some of them strikers were selling bottles, so I bought one.”
Effie set the bottle on the table.
“You left out the best part,” Effie said. “Floyd bought it with stuff the families needed—a bunch of food and some blankets and a couple of oil lamps.”
“It was probably a strange thing for me to do,” Floyd said dismissively, wondering why Effie was embarrassing him like this.
“Why would it be strange?” Effie asked, turning to fetch a couple of tumblers. “You heard about what had happened and so you wanted to help.”
“That’s admirable,” Ollie said in earnest. “Really fucking admirable.”
Which was probably the nicest and most vulgar compliment Floyd had ever received. Suddenly flustered, Floyd busied himself with counting the little scuff marks that were etched into the wood of the kitchen table, waiting for the feeling to pass.
Besides only feeling flustered by Oliver’s compliment, Floyd was starting to feel uneasy about the striking too. Suddenly, it was like he was back in Mingo County seeing the tent colonies in person. He couldn’t never put the people he loved through something like that. And the thought of leaving coal mining behind instead? No. He couldn’t never.
He knew the kinds of things the UMWA wanted to help with. All of these worries together, they were making his palms sweat. Over the next couple seconds—seconds that seemed to stretch on into eternity—Floyd started thinking ’bout the changes those families were fighting for. Changes that might have helped the man he had lost. Floyd’s heart clenched.
By the time Floyd forced himself to look up, Effie had finished pouring both him and Ollie a couple of fingers of moonshine.
“You boys can take these outside,” she said, moving the drinks closer. “Me and Josephine will clean up. Or maybe I’ll let her play for a while. She’s probably taking her paper dolls to the circus or something.”
Floyd wasn’t really one to consume alcohol, not outside of special occasions. It wasn’t as though he had purchased the moonshine because he’d been hankering for it. As such, Floyd considered protesting, but he figured it probably wouldn’t work. Because when Effie had an idea, especially one she was particularly proud of, pushing back against it rarely ever ended up yielding the sought after result. And she seemed to be pretty proud of this one.
“Thanks, Effie,” Floyd said, standing up and taking his tumbler.
Floyd and Ollie walked to the porch together and sat down on either of the two rocking chairs. Floyd took a small sip of the moonshine while Ollie continued to inspect his. Floyd watched him smell it and then wrinkle his nose. Dang, that was adorable.