“Da spoke it well but not often. Little that I remember. Thor, he reads and writes it, but I never took to it. Just seemed a waste of time.”
“And what of your mother?” She knew nothing of their parents except from the glimpses she’d gotten of the photographs in the great room; it seemed Haakon had his father’s light eyes and locks while Thor had their mother’s dark hair. “Did she speak it with you? There’s a lullaby that comes to mind . . .”
“Not to me.” Gaze to the ground, he kicked aside a cluster of branches with his sturdy boot. “You’d have to ask Thor or Jorgan. It shouldn’t surprise me that you speak it.” He cleared his throat as if trying to rally himself. “You lived there for a few years?”
“Nearly four. I only know a little.”
“What was it like? For you and Benn?” He yanked at a green shoot harder than necessary.
“Like?” she asked weakly.
He shrugged as if it were easier for them to wade into her deep waters than his own. “Where did you live?”
“In a fishing village called Henningsvaer. Benn was a boat builder.” Aven slid the bucket between them with hands as smeared purple as Haakon’s own. “We leased a flat above a bake shop. I have eaten many a potato lefse.”
Now it was his turn to chuckle. She was glad, as it seemed to tip his mood back to the happier sort. His nose and cheeks, lightly freckled, retained a touch of boyhood, but when he rose to stand beside her, she saw afresh that he was as grown a man as the others.
“You’ll make it for me sometime?” Haakon asked.
“Would you like me to?”
“Yes, please.”
“Then I shall.”
He smiled again and it was the dangerous sort, for with such a handsome face, ’twas a captivating concoction. But he sobered as he carried both buckets off, and Aven remembered the twinge he’d shown at mention of his mother.
At the washtub, Haakon dumped out the berries, then asked Thor if they could be done. Thor’s back was to him as he picked from a brimming patch. Haakon nabbed a small stone and hurled it at Thor’s boots. Thor flinched, then looked over, a shadow darkening his face.
“We done now?” Haakon asked sharply.
Oh, she’d struck a sharp chord indeed.
Ignoring his brother, Thor turned back to his work.
Jorgan spoke to Haakon. “Why did you have to do that?”
“Sorry. Can we go swimming now?”
Jorgan didn’t speak. Hefting up a pail, Thor carried it to the washtub and dumped it in. He took his time. When he finished, he strode to Haakon and gripped a meaty hand to the back of his brother’s neck. Thor gave a firm squeeze. Haakon lowered his head. A stern affection that seemed to put Haakon in his place, but when the young man nodded, it also bound the rift between them.
Thor stepped back and loosened the bottom button of his white cotton shirt. Followed by the next. His answer, then.
Suddenly nervous, Aven averted her gaze. The temptation for swimming was beyond bearable. No wonder Haakon had all but pleaded for it. Having grown up within the walls of the manor, she didn’t know how such a diversion was done. Never had she been allowed to wander far from the grounds. She was certainly not allowed to play with the master’s children. Was swimming something that was segregated between the sexes? She sensed it to be so, but it mattered not, really. Buoyancy was something she’d never learned.
Aven headed toward the wagon. She would wait in the shade and rest her feet until the men had their fun. Yet at a quick whistle, she turned to see Thor motioning her toward the pond. He meant for her to follow?
Confused, she shook her head, but he motioned again before turning away. Thor strode to the edge of the water where he pulled off his boots. His socks went next, then the last buttons of his shirt.
Aven didn’t realize she was staring until Jorgan strode past her. “Don’t worry. I told them to be on their best behavior. Come on.”
Thor pulled his shirt free and tossed it aside. He started toward the dock, back strong and solid beneath the late-afternoon sun. She’d heard many a tale of the Vikings of old—but never did a man rush those stories to mind so vividly as Thor Norgaard. Shed of everything but his wool trousers as well, Jorgan spoke something to his brother. Thor’s accompanying laugh was so deep and free, Aven couldn’t help but savor it. ’Twas unlike any sound she’d ever heard.
Though she had no intention of shedding an ounce of her wardrobe, to dip her feet in the water would be sweet relief. With damp soil paving the way to the pond, Aven paused to unlace her boots and peel off her stockings. The cool earth was an instant reward.
She glanced around for sight of Haakon but saw nothing other than woodlands stirring in the soft breeze.
Sinking its roots deep beneath the pond was a mighty tree. A long rope dangled from one of the aged branches. Jorgan jogged down the dock, gripped the rope, and swung out over the water where he splashed beneath the surface.
Grinning, Thor pulled the rope back again. After a steadying breath, he ran down the dock just as Jorgan had done. In a burst, he launched himself off the edge. Gripping tight the rope, he arced out over the water. He swung his legs up, head down, then let go, flipping backward into the pond with a mighty splash.
So this was swimming.
Aven treaded down the grassy slope where a short drop-off separated her from reaching the water. She looked around for an easy way down but saw none, and her attempts to scale the little cliff would no doubt send her tumbling. She settled on the grass instead. The distance was just as well, for she felt unstable surrounded by water and the wildness of their play.
After a contented sigh, Aven nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Haakon whooping down the hillside behind her. He yanked off his boots and socks as he raced toward the dock. His shirt was last and that he flung carelessly behind him before launching off the edge of the platform in a front flip that landed in a splash so huge, Aven ducked against the stray droplets. He came up for air, only to be dunked back down by Jorgan. The dog ambled in the shallows, head cocked as she hunted for something slippery.
At a different sloshing, Aven looked over to see Thor wading into the shallows. His dark pants were soaked through. He waved Aven nearer and she shook her head. He beckoned her closer again, this time with a quick whistle.
“I’m afraid I don’t swim.”
Unless, perhaps, he was asking something else?
At the sight of his disappointment, she remembered Cora’s urging for him to be heard. For that reason Aven rose and paced to the edge of the slope. The earth plunged to the low bank where he stood, his chest just a touch higher than the ledge itself.
“I’m listening,” she said with a smile.
Thor smiled back.
Aven knew not his age—only that he was somewhere between Jorgan’s thirty-two and Haakon’s twenty-one. She pondered the mystery as he stepped nearer and patted the earth where he likely meant for her to stand. The stitched gash in his upper arm seemed to be healing nicely. She nearly apologized again but instead asked, “Is it safe for you to be swimming with such a wound?” She knew little of infection but wondered if this was wise.
Thor shaped a response to Jorgan who spoke for him.
“Said it’s gonna take a lot more than pond water to kill him.”
Thor patted a hand to the earth again and this time motioned for her to sit. Next he reached up and touched his shoulders, indicating she was to hold on there. Her hesitation must have been clear for he didn’t quite look at her as he took her wrists and pulled them nearer until her hands brushed the droplets of water beaded on his skin. With her palms to his firm shoulders, he gripped her waist.