He shook his head. She was going to have to wait. Her freckled nose scrunched as she smiled. Though he was leading them, she followed willingly. It settled his nerves. Grete dashed by and up the hill where she’d probably spotted something more interesting than coming wedding guests to be greeted and licked.
When Thor and Aven reached his favorite tree—the one shaped like the woman drawing up water—he slowed and turned. He’d prayed for this moment upon learning that Aven was alone across a sea. It had felt a thin hope then. One that had doubled in fervor upon learning that the woman from the photograph—the one with the face that looked like it wanted to find home—was coming.
He had a sense that Dorothe knew his desires then because she always seemed to notice the way he would slow in front of the photograph on the wall, taking in the sight of Aven’s face longer than he had cause to.
He owed Dorothe a great thanks.
For penning the letter he was too afraid to write. The one that had set Aven on a course to them . . . and now beside him. And here he stood, wondering why God had seen fit to bless a man such as him. One who had spent his life looking for a way out or a reason why. Always wondering and questioning why the Lord had picked him to live this silent life. This tucked-away existence where he hurt apart from people. Where they didn’t know and couldn’t see because he had let it be that way and had even worsened it.
Now Aven was here and had helped change all that.
Thor squeezed the hand that was still inside his as Ida’s voice filled his head—sure and comforting. Through their nights of practice, Ida believed he could do it, so it was with that homespun faith of hers that Thor lowered himself to one knee. Whatever reaction Aven had to that, he couldn’t look up to find out. Swallowing hard, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper. He had no ring to offer her yet, so this would have to do.
Tamping down every last fear, he looked up at Aven and thought, as Ida had said, that a spoken w” was the same effort as stifling a yawn, but with his lips close together.
“W—”
The shock that flooded Aven’s face was potent enough to derail him, so Thor forced himself to concentrate on the next sound. He was to pull the “i” into his throat. Tuck it up high, Ida had said, and so he did. “Wi—” Then his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and he pressed out the sound. “Will.”
One word done. He had no idea if it had come out right, but Aven was already crying.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. The wind up here on the hillside tugged at her hair and tidy attire, but she didn’t seem to mind.
His attempt at “you” felt wrong, but if he knew anything about Aven, it was that she had learned to hear him. She’d always heard him because she knew how to listen.
He loved her for that.
Lips pressed together, Thor made the “m” vibration, feeling stuck on it as he stuttered—searching for “a.” It was a hard one. He was to pull the vowel far back into his throat, but not as high up as the “i,” and he was to tuck his tongue to his bottom teeth. Or was it his top teeth? He glanced quickly at his notes and, thanks to God above, finished “marry.” It had to sound like gibberish, but he was almost done, and the last one was the shortest.
“M—” Thor wet his lips. “M—” His hand holding her own was sweating now.
Blast it. What was the “e” sound? He’d practiced it with Ida, but it was gone from his mind. He looked to the end of his notes. They’d smeared beneath his thumb, but there was the lingering trace of an arrow from the “e” to the “y” above it. They made the same sound? Slamming his eyes closed, Thor searched his memory.
And it was there that he saw her face. The kind teacher who had helped him that day in the hallway. The one who had tried to teach him his vowels. Her touch soft to his cheek and her smile sincere as she showed him how to breathe out an “eeeeee.” Over and over they had practiced and over and over he had failed, so it was on a wish and a prayer that Thor made his mouth create the sound.
It came out wrong. He could feel it. Rough as sand and nothing like he’d practiced.
Aven’s left hand came to join her right. Tender and soft around his own. She gave a firm squeeze, then bending, kissed his knuckles in a comfort he couldn’t describe.
Thor tried again, and the small word felt smoother. He peered up at her.
Using her palm, she wiped at her cheeks. She nodded so quickly that he couldn’t help but smile. With a tug, Aven urged him to his feet. He’d thought this part through as well, so he pulled a different slip of paper from his pocket with one more question. This one he simply showed her.
Now? As Jorgan said, there really was a whole preacher here.
Covering her mouth with her hand, she slid him a look that took any wondering right out of the inquiry. Eyes glistening with joy, she nodded again, giving him a response that he didn’t have to work to understand. But he wanted it from her lips all the same. He wanted her to have the chance for her voice to be heard with him. It mattered more than he could explain.
Adding pencil to paper, Thor wrote, You need say answer.
Her laugh had to be one of the loveliest sounds. The sight of it was the real treat, though. “Yes. I would very much like to marry you, Thor Norgaard.” Pulling herself higher, she pressed a sudden kiss to his mouth, and while it ended sooner than he wished, she took his hand, walking backward so he could see her. “And, aye. Now, if you please.”
With Fay still in the house and guests just finding their seats along the benches, Thor gave his brother a nod. Grinning, Jorgan stepped down the center row to press a kiss to Aven’s blushing cheek. He embraced Thor next, and Thor gripped tight to his brother’s neck with all the thanks he felt. After sharing a few words with the preacher, Jorgan set the rest in motion. Before Thor knew it, Aven was stationed beside him even as Fay took her spot next to Jorgan.
With the cool of evening sweeping over the farm, stirring the very last of the porch roses, Jorgan and Fay shared their vows. Her family had come from afar, and as they sat there, they watched their daughter become a wife with pride shining in their faces.
Next the preacher shifted toward Thor and Aven with a nod of assurance to them both. Thor held Aven’s hand, watching the clergyman state the vows he was to repeat. A holy decree that he’d put a lot of thought to. Not just because Aven was lovely or good or wanting him as he wanted her, but because God had saw fit for Thor to bind himself to her. To care for her and to be faithful to her. It wasn’t an oath he took lightly.
Thor released her fingers long enough to repeat his promise. With Jorgan deciphering, Thor trusted that the preacher, the guests, and most importantly, Aven knew the depth of his pledge.
In answer, she spoke hers, and he was torn between watching her mouth and her eyes. Both were saying the same thing. It was like coming home for him. Staggering, since this was the place of his birth, but now, with her, it was suddenly lit all different. The fields were more open, the mountains steeper, and the hollow swollen with all the places he wanted to take her.
And yet it was she who took his hand first and, with a gentle nudge, seemed to be showing him that they were all done. That, along with Jorgan and Fay, they were to be the first to step away from this hallowed place and toward another.
Well wishes came from all around. Pats to his shoulder, firm grips to his hand, and many, many kisses to Aven’s cheeks. He stayed close to her, overwhelmed with the flurry and not understanding all that was spoken. But he knew joy when he saw it. Made all the finer as the soft of Aven’s shoulder stayed nestled to his chest as if she meant to be as close to him as possible.