Jorgan shook his brother and lifted his eyelids. “Come on, Thor.” As he patted the man’s cheeks, he looked up at Haakon. “Get the doctor. Now.”
Haakon ran off toward the barn.
“What’s happening?” Aven sank beside Thor. Her chin trembling, she gently lifted his head and slid her knees beneath it, holding him up as best she could.
“I need you to get back,” Jorgan said.
Aven shook her head.
Cora rushed in, tipping an herby drink to Thor’s lips. “This should calm him.” She dripped some into his mouth.
His face skewed in disgust. Cora urged him to take more, but he shoved the cup away, spilling it. Defeat warred with determination in the woman’s eyes. Aven’s hope faltered. Without his wanting it, Thor couldn’t be made to do anything.
As if knowing it was a losing battle, Jorgan turned for the cider. Immense sadness in his eyes brought to Aven the burn of tears. Jorgan loosened the lid, lifted Thor’s head, and tipped the jar to his brother’s mouth. Amber liquid dripped into Thor’s beard. Aven gently wiped it away with her skirt.
“Come on, man,” Jorgan said, then whispered the same in Norwegian.
He tipped the liquor again. More cider spilled away, but then Thor swelled in a gasp and sputtered. He grabbed the jar, bending forward to drink hungrily. He gulped down half of the brew, then coughed, dropped the glass, pulled himself forward, and heaved it all out. His arms shook so fiercely that Aven reached across his wracking back and held him about the waist.
His weight was more than she could support until Jorgan moved to the other side to bear the most. Thor was heaving nothing but air now, but his body wouldn’t stop. Not until he went limp and they eased him back down. Aven cradled his head as Jorgan pressed an ear to his chest.
“Do not fail him.” He said it low and urgent as if the heart could be commanded so. When Cora called for Jorgan’s help, he stood and hurried back inside.
Aven used the edge of her skirt to wipe the cider from Thor’s mouth. She said his name. Tried to tell him that they were with him and would never leave him. But the words flitted right past. Desperate for him to know, she pressed her lips to his forehead. “You’re not alone,” she whispered.
She kissed his skin again, minding not the saltiness as she slid her hands against his collar, splaying it farther open as if that alone would make the breaths come easier. Water dripped down her fingers. She grazed a hand over his ear and wept his name.
His eyes were closed, and knowing he’d never hear her, she clung to him and cried out to the God who could.
FOURTEEN
Aven paced across the hallway and then back. Faint shuffling and a few thuds sounded from the attic where the doctor was with Thor. Jorgan and Cora had gone up as well. What was happening? Aven wandered back and forth for a few more minutes before the attic door opened.
She moved aside to be out of the way. The doctor came down first. He slid on a black hat, a handled bag of the same glossy color in his grip. The door closed softly as Cora and Jorgan followed just behind.
The doctor gave Aven a polite nod in passing, and she trailed them all down. Haakon was in the kitchen, straddling a chair, and Ida was fresh from the garden with a basket of vegetables in tow. The doctor left, and everyone seemed to be waiting on someone to speak.
Jorgan pulled near his own chair and sat. “The doctor said there wasn’t anything else we could be doin’ for Thor, but that it’s up to him and what his body can handle. And obviously, the Lord.”
“And his heart?” Haakon asked.
“The doctor didn’t like the sound of it but said there’s little that can be done. Said Thor’s young and strong and that it should hold out fine. What the doc is more worried about is his liver, which can’t be doin’ too well just now. Cora’s gonna fix something for him to take that should help.”
Worry threaded so tightly through Aven that she could scarcely ask the next question. “And for his unease?”
“Doc wants him to keep with the teas Cora suggested. He gave us some medicine, too, that should help him sleep. Gettin’ Thor to take the medicine was harder than gettin’ him to drink anything we’ve tried before, so I don’t know how much help it will be.”
Oh, the state Thor had to be in. Was there nothing she could do?
Weariness and worry stayed companions with them in the kitchen. Cora went out for some air, and Haakon went to see to the afternoon chores. Looking like he was ready to sleep for a week, Jorgan mentioned that he needed to head back upstairs.
“I need another bowl and some rags, though.” He opened a low cupboard.
Aven hurried to get a large enamel bowl, and Jorgan fetched the rags that had been washed and dried that morning. When he returned upstairs, Ida watched as Aven resumed her restlessness. ’Twas a relief when the dear housekeeper suggested a batch of crackers for Thor.
“Wonderful idea.” Aven rinsed her hands and dried them. Why were they shaking?
Because she remembered this very time in a flat far away.
When it was Benn and not Thor fighting for release.
Grateful for the task, Aven set the jar of flour on the table. A tin cup served to measure out several scoops into a bowl. Next she scraped a hefty dollop of butter from the crock and fetched the baking soda. When the dough was rolled and cut into squares, she placed each one on a baking sheet, pricked them with a fork, and dusted the tops with salt. Into the oven they went. She was tidying up her mess when Haakon went up to relieve Jorgan, who came down a minute later. He sank into a chair at the table.
Aven poured coffee, stirred in cream, and set the hot mug on the table just as Ida slid a plate of stew beside it.
Aven suppressed her wondering until he’d taken a few bites. “How is Thor faring?”
Jorgan lifted his gaze. “He’s still thick as thieves with that bucket, but he’s hangin’ in there all the same. Tonight will be the worst.” He stabbed a slice of potato and stirred it in the gravy. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep before he wakes. I’m worried he and Haakon are gonna have a rough time of it.”
When Jorgan polished off his meal, he ducked from the kitchen and collapsed on the sofa. Within moments the man was still as stone, all save his chest that rose and fell in slumber.
’Twas a few hours later that Haakon came down. He dropped a pile of laundry on the porch. Without a word he returned upstairs. Only minutes passed when there was a ruckus followed by a clatter. The attic door opened and slammed. Haakon was back in the kitchen, tossing another bundle of cloths onto the porch.
“He’s impossible!”
“I can send up more tea.” Ida reached for a tin of herbs.
“There’s no point.” Haakon took up the bar of soap and wet his hands. “It’s just gonna come back up.”
“This takes time.”
The bar slipped from his grip and onto the floor. “You know what?” Haakon banged the soap into the washbin. “I’m gonna go take a bath.” He stormed toward the door. “If anyone needs me, tell them I’ve died.”
“Haakon,” Ida said sternly.
He lowered his head, turned, and strode back through the house loud enough to wake all who were slumbering, and a few distant neighbors as well.
Aven exchanged a small smile with Ida, and before either of them could remark, the smell of toasting crackers begged to be tended. Aven pulled them from the oven, lightly golden and crisp.
Cora and Al joined them then, looking rested. Al’s tightly coiled hair was closely shorn to his head and he ran a hand over it, making a faint swishing sound as he yawned. Ida heaped two plates with stew for them, and Aven fixed a pot of strong, black tea. At Cora’s bidding, she brewed a cup of chamomile for Thor.
Aven set the cup of herbal tea on a tray. Next she added two warm crackers. Oh, that he might be able to take a few bites. Settle his stomach, if not his unease.