Thor pulled Aven’s hand into his own, holding it secure in his lap beneath the table. The gesture grounded her, making her wish that he would find peace with whatever outcome prevailed. Though Jorgan and Haakon had unearthed a few hidden jars, even placing them in the kitchen, Aven trusted that the cider no longer held Thor captive as it once had. In fact, he’d scarcely given it a second glance. A stout effort on his part. Made more reassuring in his gentle calm and sober patience even amid this storm. He reached not for a drink but instead seemed to turn to wisdom and something that looked a lot like deepening faith. Aven grazed her thumb against his own, and he lifted her hand to kiss the back of it.
Haakon, who had been finishing the last of his breakfast, looked on. A sea of emotions wet his eyes to a sheen. When he glanced at Thor, it was the closest thing to a good-bye that Aven had ever seen between them. Haakon rammed his chair in, then strode out. Still recovering, Grete stayed in her spot behind the door. Jorgan stopped his youngest brother with a hand to the chest.
Haakon halted and gave Jorgan a muted smile. “Would you like me to help you and Thor patch up the cidery, or should I see to the chores?” Never had he asked to be helpful in such an outright way.
Even Jorgan seemed surprised. “The chores. Thanks.”
Haakon nodded and headed out. Going their own direction, Thor and Jorgan did the same, but not before Jorgan pressed a kiss to Fay’s cheek. With his hand cupping her head, he promised her everything would be just fine.
Aven stacked and rinsed the breakfast dishes as Ida showed Fay the cake recipes from their tin box.
“The vanilla-almond we tried the other night is a right favorite, but there’s other kinds we ought to try.” Ida shuffled through the small cards.
Though Aven could see Fay’s gratitude, the woman insisted Ida not go to such trouble.
“Nonsense. How often do we have a weddin’ in this house? I been waitin’ thirty-two years for this day, so we’s makin’ as many cakes as this oven’ll hold.”
Fay smiled, and it was a sweet addition to the morning. As the pair of them set to mixing together a new batter, Aven slipped upstairs to steady her hands and heart in the way she knew best. She pulled out her sewing basket and drew the first of Haakon’s curtains near. The chore was a simple one: a straight hem and nothing more. By the end of an hour, the first set was finished. Completing the second was just as simple, and soon she laid the finished panels aside.
The smell of baking cake sugared the air, spurring her to tuck the finished items into a basket and carry it all down. Ida was at the table beating together a thick bowl of icing. The faithful woman had a gift for infusing normalcy into this day and these wedding plans. That at such an hour as this, the difference between chocolate and lemon cream was fine medicine indeed.
Fork in hand, Aven helped them sample. Her favorite was most certainly the lemon with the blackberry filling, and while Fay nibbled an entire slice of that one, she noted that the vanilla-almond from the day before was the reason she couldn’t decide.
“Then how about I make a tier of each?”
“You’re a wonder, Ida.” Aven set her plate in the washbin, rinsed her sticky fingers, then dried them on her patchwork skirt. Remembering her basket and the finished curtains, Aven fetched them. She slipped out the door, promising to be right back.
She walked through the thin stretch of woodland that separated the great house from Haakon’s cabin. ’Twas not a far journey—a few minutes at most. Heady in the air was the scent of pine and a lingering sweetness from the kitchen. Aven stepped clear of the woods and into the wind that swept across the meadow. It whipped at her hair in a gust so crisp that she could have been traversing the clifftops of Norway.
“You are lost, Aven.”
She turned to see him stride nearer. The shape of him, the sound of him, all beholden to the two distant lands that had formed him. The breeze tugged at his shirt, crushing it to his chest and shoulders, outlining a strength that shadowed her when he stopped at her side.
“Do I seem so?” Lost in thought, perhaps.
But he wasn’t looking at her as if that was what he’d meant.
“I brought two of the window coverings—all finished.”
“Thank you, Aven. I’ll walk with you.” He took the basket, carrying it for her. “Did Thor not ask you to stay close to the house?”
“He did. But I didn’t think this so far.”
He fell in step beside her. When his hand bumped hers, he gave her a wider berth. Aven dragged the hem of her skirt up from the forest floor. Leaves clung to the edge of the petticoat, and the white lace was a stark contrast to the black of her stockings and boots.
At the cabin, he unlocked the door. She hadn’t thought of that—the likelihood of it being barred. Good, after all, that he’d joined her. Haakon pushed it open, allowing her to step in first. As he closed the door, she moved to the front windows. He placed the basket between them, and she shook out the first curtain. When Haakon fetched a wooden rod, they threaded the fabric onto it. He reached up and set the long dowel back on its wooden pegs. The ivory sleeves of his winter underwear were snug to his forearms, and the plaid shirt he wore atop it had been folded back to his elbows.
She righted the curtains, closing them at first to check the size, then drawing them open to demonstrate how they would lay. “Nice?”
“Very nice.”
“’Twas so simple, I’ll have the others done by week’s end.”
“How did you find the time?”
She unfolded the second panel. “I haven’t the burden you bear right now. You and your brothers. I have my usual tasks. And beyond that . . .” She handed him the curtain and he began to string it on. “Other ways that might help.”
“Other ways . . .” His eyes flitted to hers, then dropped the length of her before looking back to her handiwork.
Fingers that were strong and weathered by work inched the cloth into place. Silence rested between them, and it was just the play of light through the glass, of dancing dust motes and his gentle breathing as he finished the simple task. Always supple his efforts were. Even each step—so quiet.
How different it was standing with Haakon than with Thor. Thor’s movements rumbled like the earth, but he was able to bear just as much. Haakon was agile as a breeze, yet as difficult to corral.
She wished it were Thor beside her. That it was Thor lowering a glance to her. That it was he who had come here. But wherever life took her, for the rest of her days and years, it would always be this moment—this hour—that she would regret having stood in this place with his brother.
“Can I ask you a question?” Haakon lifted the final rod into place on the front windows. “Are you gonna marry Thor?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because he hasn’t asked me.”
He swiped his hands on the sides of his pants. “If he were to.”
“What does that matter to you?”
“It matters a lot.”
Something about him was making her uneasy. It wasn’t his words, for those were rarely guarded. It was the tender way he watched her. The nearness in which he stood. “Despite the fact that it’s not your concern, I’ll tell you that I would marry Thor. And I hope—with everything in me—to be able to.”
“And yet you’re gonna sit around and twiddle your thumbs for him, aren’t you?” Haakon absently nudged the basket aside with his boot. “It’s that way with everyone around here. Jorgan and Fay—waiting an eternity to get to one another. Then Ida, who is waiting on a ghost. Da did the same.” He looked at her. “I don’t understand it. And so I’m asking you, Aven”—he took her hand—“to come with me.”
Had she heard him right? He ran the back of his finger down her arm, and it was softer than any words he might have spoken.
“I’m sorry, Haakon.” She turned away, but he stepped backward and into her path.
“I wake up thinkin’ about you, and I go to bed at night thinkin’ about you.” His eyes searched hers as if trying to find a hidden place where she felt the same. “And believe it or not, all day in between I’m thinkin’ after you.”
She moved away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do know!” He followed in one easy stride. “But then there’s Thor in the way, and I went through hell for him. We all did. And you know what happened? He beat us all to a pulp, then everybody started actin’ like he’s Saint Thor.”