Page 11 of Our Own Light

Josephine cut in. “Can I have some cake? I ate my peas.”

Effie and Floyd looked at one another, both of them pursing their lips to temper their burgeoning smiles. Effie flashed two fingers, and Floyd flashed one back. Effie raised both of her eyebrows, and Floyd flicked his wrist. It was incredible. Oliver couldn’t even fathom what it would be like to be that close with someone—to communicate vaguely complex ideas without even speaking a single word.

Watching the scene unfold, Oliver’s chest twinged with a sense of longing, one he hadn’t let himself feel for many years. Oliver had never liked someone else romantically. It seemed impossible that he’d ever find what Effie and Floyd had with each other.

“One more bite of corned beef first,” Effie finally said.

Josephine’s face lit up. “Yay!”

Both Floyd and Effie shook their heads as they watched Josephine practically inhale her last forkful of supper, and then Effie cut a slice of pound cake while Floyd reached over to playfully tickle Josephine’s side.

And all the while, Oliver’s chest continued to ache.

Chapter Three

Floyd

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning, and Floyd couldn’t sleep. For hours, he had been listening to Josephine’s soft snores beside him, occasionally checking to see if Effie had woken up, too, either from the snoring or something else. But she hadn’t even stirred. Not that he wanted her to sleep poorly or nothing, but he would have liked the company. Five more minutes passed before Floyd couldn’t take lying awake no more. He walked out of the backroom to waste some time on the couch. He crept over to the faded-brown sofa—its long cushion saggy in the middle—and sat.

Once he was settled, he lit a candle and took out a stack of playing cards. He was close to finishing the setup for solitaire when Effie crept out into the living room, her slippers shuffling against the floorboards with each step.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Nope,” Floyd said, placing the final card on the table.

She placed a hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling sick?”

“Nah,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips as she smoothed back his brown locks. “I can’t switch my brain off tonight.”

She took a seat next to him. “What are you thinking about?”

Floyd only shrugged. Effie probably thought that Floyd was thinking ’bout the same thing—the same person—he ought to have been thinking ’bout, the man with the reddish-brown hair who he had lost all those years ago. After all, Floyd had spent many other sleepless nights thinking of him over the years. But tonight, Floyd hadn’t been able to stop thinking ’bout Oliver instead.

After a moment, Effie wrapped her arms around Floyd’s shoulders and pulled him in for a sideways hug. They rested their heads together.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m fine.”

“What’d you think of Oliver?”

Floyd nearly heaved a sigh but kept it in. Effie was only trying to be nice. She had no way of knowing that Oliver was what was bothering him, thoughts of his soft yellow hair and handsome face rolling around inside Floyd’s head and messing up his brain.

“He’s nice enough.”

“I think so, too,” she said. “Do you think you’ll spend a lot of time with him?”

“Probably. He’s new. Miners need someone to work with.”

“What happened to Billy?”

“Billy needs to wait a year or two, in my opinion. He’ll stay a spragger for now.”

“Well, I hope you like working with Oliver. He’s welcome for supper anytime.”

“Thanks,” Floyd said before realizing he wasn’t sounding too thankful. “Appreciate that.”

As Effie rubbed Floyd’s shoulder, pieces of the evening started replaying in his head like a movie picture, and when watching it back, Floyd couldn’t help but see how much fun he’d had with Oliver, whose stories and comments had been making him laugh.

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