He smiled, and it was even more captivating than Haakon’s. Perhaps because of how rare it was. Or perhaps because she felt sheer delight at being on the receiving end of it.
Before she could make sense of such a thought, the kitchen door opened in a gust. Haakon called out. Aven glanced around the corner. Thor leaned that way as if realizing they were no longer alone. A trice later, Haakon declared utter exaltation over the pies, followed by the clatter of the silverware drawer.
Aven rose and pushed her basket aside. “Do not touch the pies!” She hurried into the kitchen just as Haakon stabbed his first bite.
He lifted it to his mouth, and her cry of despair was enough to freeze him into place.
“Don’t touch which pie?” He glanced to the bite he had forked out of the steamy center, then back to her, looking as guilty as a person could look.
“Haakon!” Aven stared at the marred pastry.
Heavy boots stomped up the porch and Jorgan ducked in. “There’s pie?” He trod nearer, stole Haakon’s fork, and shoveled out a bigger mouthful.
Aven gasped. She turned for help, but there was only Thor, who was fetching his own eating utensil. He strode around the table, sat at the head, and pulled the second pie nearer. He stabbed a chunk of crust, then shoved it in his mouth. His approving grunt was her undoing.
“You all are wicked, wicked men.” She unlaced her apron and pulled it off. After wadding it up, she threw it on the table.
“You’re not upset, are you?” Haakon asked.
“They needed to cool for after supper.”
Thor pointed to the dessert in front of him, then made several slow motions with one hand.
Haakon glanced at him. “My thoughts exactly.” He pulled the first pan into his lap, then propped his boots up on the edge of the table. He crammed a scoop of blackberries into his mouth.
Outnumbered, Aven sank onto the stool beside the pantry. “Ida would not stand for such behavior.”
“But she’s not in here,” Haakon mumbled around a mouthful. “We didn’t catch any fish, and I’m starving. Come have some too.” He pulled out a chair for her. “It’s not as good if you’re mad at us.”
Thor waved Aven nearer. When she didn’t move, he gestured to Jorgan for another fork, then tried to coax her closer again. She shook her head, and he frowned. Thor lunged toward her, gripped her stool by one of the legs, and dragged her to his side.
Aven stared at him in shock. His arm brushed her own as he accepted the clean fork from his brother. After spearing a gooey piece of crust, Thor held it over. A response stunned right out of her, she took the metal handle.
He was watching her mouth, and there was a wanting in his eyes. One that told her actions spoke so much louder than words to him. When she didn’t move, he shaped a phrase with his hands. Aven looked to Haakon for help.
“He said you’ll be less upset if you have some. And that . . .” Haakon watched as Thor made several more gestures. “You are like a small bird.”
“A what?”
“I’m not sure.”
Thor patted the table loudly, and when he signed something different, Haakon seemed to catch on. “Oh. He said you’re thin like a bird.”
Thor circled two fingers around Aven’s wrist as if to prove his point.
Haakon rose and reached for the milk bottle. “I think he means to fatten you up.”
“So I see. ’Tis a concern for my well-being, is it?”
Thor nodded, and her intention of serving the pie on the lovely china from the cupboard was dying. Especially when he nudged her hand closer to her mouth. His expression ever so eager, she indulged him. And, oh, it was good. A smile twinkled in his eyes as she swiped a finger over her lips to catch the juice. Haakon celebrated with a whistle so shrill, she nearly choked. Thor patted her back much too hard, which made everything worse.
Tears forming, Aven wiped her eyes. “Now may I have a plate?” She rose and plucked one from the glass cabinet.
Thor flicked open his knife, cut a thick wedge, and loaded it onto the dainty dish for her. He licked the side of his blade clean, then stabbed the tip into the arm of his chair.
“Oh.” That hadn’t quite been what she had in mind. “Thank you . . . Thor.”
When Haakon chuckled, Thor smiled at his brother, and Aven felt something between them being stitched back together.
Haakon licked a drop of purple juice from the base of his thumb. “This is the best pie I’ve ever had.”
Aven sampled another bite. It was good. Warm and tangy . . . and she’d never had berries so plump and sweet to bake with before. Haakon lifted the jug of milk to his mouth.
Aven reached to stop him. “Be a good lad and pour me a glass before you do that.”
He rose to fetch her one. “Can you make more stuff like this pie?”
“Certainly.”
“With apple even? How about peach? Oh, and pumpkin.”
“I can make whatever kind you wish. Cakes and even turnovers.”
Dropping his pan onto the table with a clatter, Thor shaped a thought with his hands. Aven waited for Haakon to explain.
“He asked if you can make chocolate cream.” Haakon filled a glass for her, then sat again.
“ ’Twould be my joy.”
Thor’s chest lifted in a satisfied inhale. Aven breathed in deeply as well, savoring this moment and how different it was than her life before.
The breeze that blew in from the open window held the sweet ripening of the orchards. The curtains on the window stirred, and from somewhere in the distance, hoofbeats plodded along. The steady sound grew nearer, and Jorgan moved to the window. Grete barked.
Pushing his chair back, Thor rose. Aven glimpsed a weather-beaten wagon pulling up the drive. In the back was a stack of wide boards. Jorgan was somber now. Looking the same, Thor strode to the doorway, where he leaned a shoulder against the jamb. The wagon creaked to a stop in front of the cider barn. When Jorgan called Grete off, two men hopped down.
With a tip of his head, Thor motioned for Jorgan to follow. They shared a brief greeting with the deliverymen, then reached into the wagon, dragged down two boards apiece, and stacked them just in front of the shop door. The workers pulled down more and piled them there. Board after board after board.
Boots back up on the table, Haakon folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Shooting out a heavy sigh, he looked none too pleased about whatever had just pulled into their lives.
TEN
Holding his pocket watch with a trembling hand, Thor read the time. Just past ten. Nearly twelve hours since his last drink. Over two days since the boards had been delivered. Time enough for him to brace for what was to come and for Jorgan and him to finish closing up the shop.
Morning sun poured through the window as if to mock him and his pounding head. He sipped the glass of water Ida had brought him, but it did little for his parched throat. Bowing his head, he dragged a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his throbbing neck.
During the last delivery, they’d sold enough liquor to keep their customers happy for a few weeks. Beyond that . . . Thor didn’t want to think about it.
Now Jorgan was sealing over the last of the windows in the attic where Thor would keep himself. The light dimming, Thor glanced around. He didn’t like the way the room was beginning to box him in, but it was safest. With three more swings, Jorgan drove another nail flush. He gave the final wooden slat a firm tug. It didn’t budge.
Jorgan looked at him. “You doin’ okay?”
Thor nodded as much to reassure himself as his brother. These early hours, miserable as they felt, were just the beginning. He had a good four days of hell in front of him, and he was barely to the fiery gates.
Stomach in knots, Thor tried to remember what he’d sat down for. Oh . . . Aven.