My Home is on the Mountain
You can make your life extraordinary, if you have the courage.
Cecilia Howison, the rich and well-known daughter of a prominent east Tennessee family, appears to be the perfect Southern girl: cultured, gracious, virginal. The actual lesbian she is feels restless and ready for something new. She finds it in a high mountain meadow.
Airey Fitch is the mainstay of her family's hard-scrabble hill farm. She has no love for the Howisons or any of their kind, who now are evicting the mountain folk to create a new national park. Despite them, she will hang on, despite them, she will seek a life for herself in music. When Cecilia offers to make that happen, Airey dares to trust her. And wonders why Cecilia constantly invades her thoughts.
Cecilia understands all too clearly the risks she runs by wooing Airey Fitch, but cannot stop, lured like a moth to Airey's flame. Airey wants more than the passion Cecilia gives her—wants her heart. But the world they live in forbids it, and Cecilia is faced with a choice that only love can make.
Chapter One Begins
How much steam could a radiator give off? Would she be stranded here until she made newspaper headlines? HOPE FADES FOR COLONEL HOWISON'S DAUGHTER. SOCIETY FRIENDS WAIT AND PRAY. She watched a bee fly into the woods. At some point, tragically, FOUND TOO LATE.
No human sound. Only birds calling, a bee buzzing past her, the hiss of steam. Another bee. Cecilia sat up. Her brother had once told her that bees travel in straight lines only to water. Water would mean PLUCKY MODERN GIRL RESCUES SELF. And I, thought Cecilia, stripping off her driving gloves, am a very modern girl.
She perched on the Buick's sidemount, empty Thermos in hand, waiting. A bee shot by like a bullet. She was after it up the steep verge into the trees, along an animal track threading its way below the towering oaks and yellow birch, her hope and attention fixed on the bees zipping past. Ahead, a bright wink—sunlight on water? Yes. Tom was always right. Now its singing trickle made herd quicken her pace, but she stopped abruptly as she stepped out of the woods. Someone was sprawled by the creek, asleep in the meadow flowers.
Then the girl was awake, scudding back, her knees up, arms hard across the bib of her overalls, scowling.
"I'm sorry," said Cecilia. "I've startled you. I'm looking for water for my car's radiator. Is this stream clean enough for that? I don't want to turn an innocent Buick into a mud-filled monument to stupidity."
The girl said something unfriendly in a crow voice that forced Cecilia to tune her ear to mountain speech to understand: "You might find a monument handy." At Cecilia's raised eyebrows, "You could sell folks tickets to see it, save up your earnings, buy yourself a car that works."
"Tickets? To whom, on that infernal road? I wouldn't earn enough for shoe-leather."
"You're the one who drove it. Nobody else does."
"I've learned that lesson at bitter length. I need cooling down and—" her own pointed glance at the girl's sunburn—"so do you."
"I ain't dressed for company."
"I don't mind a bit," said Cecilia truthfully. "You are better dressed for wading, if you would?" The girl hesitated. Cecilia gave her the Thermos and turned to face a cluster of blue-eyed grass. "While I admire those."
Behind her, the sounds of the girl getting to her feet, sloshing in the creek, a dunk, approaching drips. "Please, you first."
"It's your bottle."
"I insist." Cecilia's back remained resolutely turned. She watched the girl's shadow drink and drink and wipe its mouth.
"I'm obliged. I was dry as meat on a spit. Looking like it, too, at least up one side."
"Have more."
"I'm full done. And done talking to the hind end of your hat."
Cecilia turned at once, but the girl was already stooping again to the creek. Cecilia looked at that lean, bare back and thought I'm in trouble. And knew if she was on her feet when she accepted the Thermos, she would have to walk away. She dropped at once to the grass and was arranging herself to appear comfortably settled when the girl straightened and looked down with surly admiration. "You staying?"
"I thought we could get acquainted."
"Why for?"
Because I need to know who you are. "Because it appears you're the only other human alive on the mountain." Cecilia took her Thermos and sipped. "You might even pay a penny to see a car."
"You got to do better than a stopped car. I've seen one of them before."
"Then perhaps to stir your pity?"
The girl did not smile. "Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, not ma'am. My name's Cecilia. What's yours?"
"Airey." The girl sat cross-legged. Her eyes travelled over the grass.
"An attractive name." Airey. "I've not heard it before."
The girl watched her own hand comb the wildflowers. "It was my granny's, and her mam's and granny's before her."
"How lovely—like an heirloom. I inherited my name from the patron saint of music."
The girl looked up at last. "I like music."
"Do you? So do I."
"I play fiddle. For money."
"You're a professional!"
"Reckon so, or a monument. The girl's gaze dropped again, sharpened, and she reached to free a violin bow from the grass. After a careful assessment, "Don't seem to be harmed. I was taking off some busted hairs. I shouldn't never have left it out." She stretched again to rescue an open wooden box, clipped the bow under pegs in its lid and tucked a flap of quilt over the violin nested inside. "Busted my second-last string, too. My professional days will be laying idle just when so-longs are coming faster than chips off a stump."
"So-longs?"
"So-long-and-farewell parties. Folks selling to land buyers and leaving."
"Land buyers? Oh, the park. You as well?"
"We ain't seeking to."
Cecilia returned to more hopeful territory. "Have you been playing professionally for long?"
"Some years."
"Locally, or do you travel?"
"You don't got to talk to me just 'cause you need my help." Airey began to rise. "Where's your car?"
Not yet. "At the other end of that path, but my brother tells me cold water will crack a hot radiator top to bottom. When I left it, the engine could have baked bread." Airey remained on one knee. "And I'm not actually in need of help. I came here to rescue myself and believe I'm sufficient for the purpose."
"You was just expecting."
"I was just hoping."
Airey looked unblinkingly at her, then sat, leaned back on her arms, and crossed her long legs at the ankles. "Seems I ain't in no rush to clap eyes on a monument."
Cecilia sipped water and said nothing.
How much steam could a radiator give off? Would she be stranded here until she made newspaper headlines? HOPE FADES FOR COLONEL HOWISON'S DAUGHTER. SOCIETY FRIENDS WAIT AND PRAY. She watched a bee fly into the woods. At some point, tragically, FOUND TOO LATE.
No human sound. Only birds calling, a bee buzzing past her, the hiss of steam. Another bee. Cecilia sat up. Her brother had once told her that bees travel in straight lines only to water. Water would mean PLUCKY MODERN GIRL RESCUES SELF. And I, thought Cecilia, stripping off her driving gloves, am a very modern girl.
She perched on the Buick's sidemount, empty Thermos in hand, waiting. A bee shot by like a bullet. She was after it up the steep verge into the trees, along an animal track threading its way below the towering oaks and yellow birch, her hope and attention fixed on the bees zipping past. Ahead, a bright wink—sunlight on water? Yes. Tom was always right. Now its singing trickle made herd quicken her pace, but she stopped abruptly as she stepped out of the woods. Someone was sprawled by the creek, asleep in the meadow flowers.
more
Barefoot, in nothing but overalls, a wide-brimmed hat fallen aside, but here was no country boy. Cecilia drifted across the meadow, breath high in her throat. Who is this? A local farm girl, long, ragged, rake-thin, and half-buried in the meadow-grass. Cecilia saw fox-colored hair, a nose and chin scorching in the sun, one cheekbone fully burned, and a shoulder crisply red. As she moved to cast a merciful shadow, a tanned fore-arm came into view, a glimpse of white ribs. What had made this sleeping Artemis too tired to feel the sun burning every exposed inch or a stranger standing over her?Then the girl was awake, scudding back, her knees up, arms hard across the bib of her overalls, scowling.
"I'm sorry," said Cecilia. "I've startled you. I'm looking for water for my car's radiator. Is this stream clean enough for that? I don't want to turn an innocent Buick into a mud-filled monument to stupidity."
The girl said something unfriendly in a crow voice that forced Cecilia to tune her ear to mountain speech to understand: "You might find a monument handy." At Cecilia's raised eyebrows, "You could sell folks tickets to see it, save up your earnings, buy yourself a car that works."
"Tickets? To whom, on that infernal road? I wouldn't earn enough for shoe-leather."
"You're the one who drove it. Nobody else does."
"I've learned that lesson at bitter length. I need cooling down and—" her own pointed glance at the girl's sunburn—"so do you."
"I ain't dressed for company."
"I don't mind a bit," said Cecilia truthfully. "You are better dressed for wading, if you would?" The girl hesitated. Cecilia gave her the Thermos and turned to face a cluster of blue-eyed grass. "While I admire those."
Behind her, the sounds of the girl getting to her feet, sloshing in the creek, a dunk, approaching drips. "Please, you first."
"It's your bottle."
"I insist." Cecilia's back remained resolutely turned. She watched the girl's shadow drink and drink and wipe its mouth.
"I'm obliged. I was dry as meat on a spit. Looking like it, too, at least up one side."
"Have more."
"I'm full done. And done talking to the hind end of your hat."
Cecilia turned at once, but the girl was already stooping again to the creek. Cecilia looked at that lean, bare back and thought I'm in trouble. And knew if she was on her feet when she accepted the Thermos, she would have to walk away. She dropped at once to the grass and was arranging herself to appear comfortably settled when the girl straightened and looked down with surly admiration. "You staying?"
"I thought we could get acquainted."
"Why for?"
Because I need to know who you are. "Because it appears you're the only other human alive on the mountain." Cecilia took her Thermos and sipped. "You might even pay a penny to see a car."
"You got to do better than a stopped car. I've seen one of them before."
"Then perhaps to stir your pity?"
The girl did not smile. "Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, not ma'am. My name's Cecilia. What's yours?"
"Airey." The girl sat cross-legged. Her eyes travelled over the grass.
"An attractive name." Airey. "I've not heard it before."
The girl watched her own hand comb the wildflowers. "It was my granny's, and her mam's and granny's before her."
"How lovely—like an heirloom. I inherited my name from the patron saint of music."
The girl looked up at last. "I like music."
"Do you? So do I."
"I play fiddle. For money."
"You're a professional!"
"Reckon so, or a monument. The girl's gaze dropped again, sharpened, and she reached to free a violin bow from the grass. After a careful assessment, "Don't seem to be harmed. I was taking off some busted hairs. I shouldn't never have left it out." She stretched again to rescue an open wooden box, clipped the bow under pegs in its lid and tucked a flap of quilt over the violin nested inside. "Busted my second-last string, too. My professional days will be laying idle just when so-longs are coming faster than chips off a stump."
"So-longs?"
"So-long-and-farewell parties. Folks selling to land buyers and leaving."
"Land buyers? Oh, the park. You as well?"
"We ain't seeking to."
Cecilia returned to more hopeful territory. "Have you been playing professionally for long?"
"Some years."
"Locally, or do you travel?"
"You don't got to talk to me just 'cause you need my help." Airey began to rise. "Where's your car?"
Not yet. "At the other end of that path, but my brother tells me cold water will crack a hot radiator top to bottom. When I left it, the engine could have baked bread." Airey remained on one knee. "And I'm not actually in need of help. I came here to rescue myself and believe I'm sufficient for the purpose."
"You was just expecting."
"I was just hoping."
Airey looked unblinkingly at her, then sat, leaned back on her arms, and crossed her long legs at the ankles. "Seems I ain't in no rush to clap eyes on a monument."
Cecilia sipped water and said nothing.