He vanished from the edge. No longer could she see him, but the platform overhead creaked as he walked across it. Then everything went silent. A few minutes passed and not even a sound came from above. What was he doing?
Aven tapped her foot. Then the other. She paced to the tree and started on the bottom board. Shimmying her foot into place, she climbed atop that one and then several more. She was just scaling the next when the fear of falling pinned her into place. This had to be much easier in britches than petticoats. Panic pricked her insides, but then Thor was reaching down. He looped an arm around her waist and helped her brave the highest rung.
Leaves and branches fanned out in all directions. Just overhead, the tattered remains of a white flag moved limp on the breeze. Birds flittered from perch to perch. Aven nearly gasped at the sudden pleasure of it all. When she was safely on the platform, Thor pressed her beside the tree trunk. She knelt against it. Three names were roughly carved into the bark. In the silence that followed, she traced the middle one.
Thor sat in the center of the platform, screwdriver in hand. All the boards were nailed into place—all save the one he was focused on. He had already loosened three of the screws and was just finishing the last. After setting the hand tool aside, he pressed on one end of the board so the other edge lifted. He worked his finger just beneath and took off the board entirely.
Stilling, he glanced at her.
“ ’Tis your hiding spot?”
In answer, he took her hand and pressed it over her eyes.
She parted two fingers to peek through. “Does this mean we are in cahoots?”
When he flicked her leg, she righted the covering, but not before glimpsing the grin that had lit his face. She was smiling herself.
A few bumps and thuds sounded and one strange little rattle, then she heard the board slide into place. Thor tapped her arm and she lowered her hand. He slid the screws back to their holes and fetched his tool. Beside him now sat a medium-sized jar. It kept coins—pennies and nickels mostly. Perhaps his from childhood.
A tiny pile of buttons rested beside the blue-tinted glass. It took a few tries for Thor’s fingers to grip a string lying there, but when he managed, he held it up for her to see that the buttons were strung. Aven smiled. More so when he tied the ends together, pulled her wrist nearer, and slid it on.
“Thank you.” She grazed a fingertip along the colorful buttons. “A fine collection of things you have.”
He dipped his head shyly, using that chance to reach for the screwdriver. He twisted it, securing each corner of the board, then shoved the handle end into his back pocket. He stood and helped Aven to her feet. Scrutinizing the homespun ladder that led to the ground, he seemed to wonder how to get her out of the tree house. She wondered the same.
The jar clanked as he set it near the edge. Then Thor started down. He had only taken a few steps when he inched himself to the side and motioned for her to come down as well. She gripped the nearest branch and lowered her foot to the top board. Thor’s hand slid around her waist, his touch gentle but sure. Aven pulled her skirts out of the way and climbed down another. He stayed beside her, taking care to always be a rung lower, and in no time they were on solid ground again.
He squinted sheepishly, then climbed back up and fetched the jar.
Aven giggled as he returned.
They fell in step together and started back the way they’d come. The air was crisper now than when she’d rushed off. Aven folded her arms as they walked. Occasionally Thor glanced at her as if wondering what she might have to say. Not wanting his efforts to be wasted, Aven spoke of the first recipe she had tried.
“ ’Twas a batch of cider jelly. I made it this morning, and it didn’t set right as I used too little pectin. I’ll try again this evening. Perhaps you can sample a taste when it’s done and tell me what you think.”
He gave a small smile, followed by a nod.
“Ida mentioned that they are taking donations for the fund-raiser. Haakon said there is to be a raffle before the dance. If I’m able, I’ll send along some jars of the jelly and perhaps then we can see if folks take to it.”
He seemed pleased by that. And even . . . proud? It shone in his eyes when he looked down at her. When they reached the fallen log again, she climbed over first. He followed, and the jar in his grasp jangled softly.
Aven motioned to the coins. “Though perhaps there is another option as well.” She swallowed hard, determined to finally brave this. “I’ve been offered a sewing position at a shop in Lexington.”
Thor’s brow puckered in confusion. His gaze lifted from her mouth to her eyes. When he lowered his focus again, she knew he was waiting for more.
“The wage is a fair one, and with room and board provided, I’d be able to send my earnings back here.” The jar in his hand suddenly seemed much too small. His efforts, anything but. “My earnings wouldn’t be much, but if I could do my part to help you keep this farm, I would go. But I confess . . .” She couldn’t look at him as she spoke the rest. “That it would be difficult to do. This has become my home too. You all have become my family. It’s for that reason only that I would go. Not because I would wish distance . . .”
He stepped closer and suddenly his nearness was startling. Not because she feared him, but because of what it did to her. Thor shaped four letters. He fashioned two more words, then finished by forming a fist, pressing the tip of his thumb through two fingers, and running his hand beneath his beard.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t understand.”
He nearly turned away.
She caught his arm. “Please teach me so I can know?”
He shook his head and went to step around her.
Aven followed and turned so he would see her speak. “Please.”
Thor glanced back to the tree house, then farther down the lane. Finally, he leveled her with a stern look and she knew he was caving. He stepped nearer, took her hand, and opened it. With the tip of his finger, he traced what looked like an A on her palm. Her wrist he cradled gently, and his touch had been so soft that she was glad he couldn’t hear her quick intake of breath. The pocket at his chest lay flat—the notebook elsewhere.
“A,” she repeated weakly.
He traced the letter again, then raised his fist, thumb tucked to the side.
She made the same shape. With both of his large hands around her own, he adjusted her fingers to better match the correct form. When he let go, she held the letter still. He nodded his approval, then moved on to the next. She struggled at the E, but he was patient as he guided her fingers in the smallest of ways. It made her sense just how detailed this language was. Even a tiny change in shape would alter the meaning. His care and thoughtfulness—his teaching—took all of her focus until she realized that they had finished her name.
She shaped it once more. A-V-E-N. She smiled and his own expression was soft. “Will you teach me the others next? What is yours?”
He made that fist again where his thumb poked through, then traced a T on her palm. Next he did the other three letters. By the time she had learned it, she could shape T-H-O-R even quicker than her own name. He signaled for her attention. After making the T shape again, he ran it under his beard.
He wrote his name on her palm, then slid that T beneath his beard again. After a second repetition, she realized the single gesture was Thor. She tried it, liking the feel of it.
Thor showed his approval and motioned for them to walk on. Though she didn’t fully know what he’d said in response to her mention of Lexington, she meant to find out. Because she now knew that the first four letters of that ardent speech had been her name. The very last word had been his own.
TWENTY-TWO