Thor nodded his farewell, and Aven watched as he headed back down the lane. He had yet to vanish from sight when Georgie took Aven’s and Fay’s hands and tugged them forward. “Come in! Come in!”
At first Aven feared she’d overcrowd the place, but Cora had made room for them all as though they’d been scheming this since dawn. All through the hours that Aven had been abed, clinging to prayers of hope even as she turned her mother’s necklace ’round her hand.
Tess took their satchels and wedged them beneath a cushioned chair, sending two kittens to scamper into a new hiding spot. Aven scooped one up and nestled it close. The kitten stayed by her side all evening, even as Tess and Fay braided ribbons together for the morrow and while Georgie fawned over the notion that Fay was to be a bride.
The girl inquired some as to what that entailed, and conversation of a gentle nature followed. All vague enough of an answer that Georgie then asked why Fay would ever want to share a room with Jorgan. The accompanying giggles it seemed were not to the kitten’s liking. But they were indeed to Aven’s.
Laughter, it turned out, was rather good medicine, because by the time a comforting supper of broth and bread was dished up and passed around, Aven’s heart was lifted.
While Georgie didn’t seem to grasp what was so amusing, she did inquire after Thor. “What I also ain’t gettin’ is that if Mr. Jorgan be wantin’ to share a room with Miss Fay, why Mr. Thor not be wantin’ to share a room with Miss Aven. Seems to me they like each other about the same.”
“Oh, don’t you fret over Thor one bit,” Cora insisted. “He aimin’ to share his room. He just ain’t got the nerve to ask her yet.” She winked in Aven’s direction.
Seeming satisfied with the answer, Georgie followed her mother’s bidding to dress for bed. Georgie wriggled free of her outer clothes, then slid a linen nightgown over her shift. Tess helped her button the front, and when the girl was ready for bed, she settled in close to Aven.
“Mama says there gonna be dancin’ at the weddin’.” Georgie plucked up a downy gray kitten. “Seein’ as Mr. Haakon don’t have no one to dance with, I thought he might ask me. Or maybe Tess since she be taller. But I hope it’s me.” Her dark eyes glittered in the lantern light when she peered up at Aven. “You fancy I’m big enough?”
Was this what it was like for Aven’s mother? To face the tempests of life and weather them with courage so as to soften the winds for a child’s understanding? Aven dug deep for that courage, hoping she might guard the fractures of her heart—and yet give Georgie enough of the bittersweet truth so as not to be misled. Aven ran the back of her finger over Georgie’s silken cheek. “I think you’re perfect.” She slid her legs up, turning some to look the wee one square in the eyes. “But, Georgie, I don’t think Haakon is going to be at the wedding. He’s gone away for a time. Wherever he is, I’m certain he misses you terribly.”
“Oh, but he cain’t miss it. He ain’t never been away from home. He never been from his brothers . . . or even us. Why would he go and do such a thing?”
Aven looked to Cora for help.
Cora pressed a knotty scrap of pine into the potbelly stove and closed the door. “It’s time for you to head off to bed, lil missy, but when you say your prayers, I want you to say a special prayer for Haakon, can you do that?”
Georgie nodded, still looking grieved.
Cora freed one of Georgie’s little braids from the collar of her nightgown. “Sometime a body need to be away from their family for a spell. It give them a time to learn some things that they might’a missed otherwise. It give them time to remember what the Good Book say on the matter.”
Slowly, Georgie nodded.
“I’ll pray for Mr. Haakon. That he not be scared right now.” Georgie hopped down off the bed and sank onto her folded blankets near the stove. “And I’ll pray for the rest of us not to be so scared neither.”
THIRTY-THREE
Looking into the small mirror hanging beside Haakon’s bed, Jorgan tied back his hair. When he finished, he turned to Thor and held out his arms. “This alright?”
Thor stepped closer, flicked a finger against his brother’s beard, and bobbed his eyebrows.
“I know. Ida made me trim it some.” Stepping back, Jorgan adjusted his suspenders. He looked as nice as Thor had ever seen him, and if he was nervous, it wasn’t showing.
Thor glimpsed his own reflection in the mirror. He was a sight—fresh from seeing to the horses and tending the chickens so no one else would have to. It was time for his own bath, but he needed to wait until the water heated again. With time yet for that, Thor sat, pulled his boots nearer, and picked up the rag he’d fetched. He spit on the leather and scrubbed it. There was polish in the house, but it hadn’t been used for so long that neither he nor Jorgan could find it.
Jorgan sat on the other bed and looked from it to the wall, then around at Haakon’s things. Thor watched him, hating the twinge it brought. Haakon’s pile of laundry sat untouched. The map of the world he’d tacked up on the wall unmoving, all save a loose corner that fluttered beside an open window.
Jorgan spoke, but Thor missed all but the tail end. “So, about Aven. You do realize that the preacher is here today, right? On our farm. All day. A whole preacher. The kind that can marry people.”
Right.
Thor stood. He took up the clothes that Ida had pressed and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, he strode past the housekeeper so quickly that she thunked him with her spoon to get his attention.
“If you don’t hurry and wash up, I’m gonna do it for you.”
Thor held up the clothes, and she nodded her approval. He headed outside and around to the bathhouse. After bolting the door, he set his clothes aside. A turn of the knob on the hot water reservoir sent steaming water into the tub.
A rattling of the door caught his eye. He unlatched it to see Ida standing there.
“Use soap!”
Thor shut the door on her. He knew that!
When it rattled again, he gave her a stern look as he opened it.
“Did you ask her yet?”
After heaving out a sigh, he motioned to the filling tub, then out to wherever Aven was.
“Right. Might as well look your best.” She shut the door, and he waited to make sure she was done before locking it again.
When he finally braved the hot water, he dumped it over his head with both hands. Eyes closed, he scrubbed with more force than even Jorgan had used after that awful week in the attic.
Once dried and dressed, Thor combed his hair, then bound it back with its leather cord. At the foggy mirror he worked to get the collar of his shirt perfectly straight. Satisfied, he checked that his beard was tidy. Running a few drops of oil into it made it look rather fine. Soft to the touch and as well trimmed as Jorgan’s. One of his sleeve cuffs was more problematic when it wouldn’t fasten right. Something Ida would fix, but when his search for her unearthed an empty kitchen, Thor fetched his boots from upstairs so as to make the most of the time.
Coming back down, he crossed the length of the hallway. The girls’ bedroom door was ajar. Several women bustled about within, all working to right the hem of Fay’s dress as she stood there in the late-morning light. Thor glimpsed her in passing before a lady hurried to shut the door.
He smiled at how happy Jorgan was going to be. The moment his brother laid eyes on his bride, his knees would want to buckle. Not any different from how Jorgan had looked when he’d first spotted Fay that day in the kitchen. Thor had seen even then that his brother could hardly catch a breath.
He knew the feeling.
It had been the same sensation when Aven first walked into the orchard that day in her mourning gown and with more hope in her face than she probably knew. Her hands had trembled as she clutched her luggage. And he’d stood there, watching her pretty mouth move for the first time. Him struck dumb not because of a birth condition but because she was the one he had been waiting for. The sheer memory had him all the more eager
to find her now. Thor pushed past the back door and onto the porch. His boots scraped the boards as he halted.
Tables and chairs sat scattered around. Lace cloths and jars of the late wildflowers as yellow as the meadow beyond covered rough surfaces. Aven and Fay had gathered enough that jars with flowers even gleamed along the porch banister and on the table where Ida’s cake had been freshly iced. But Thor’s attention wasn’t on the cake as he stepped across the porch. It was on the Irish lass who stood in the yard, working with Tess to tuck a few flowers into Georgie’s coil of braids.
“There.” Aven nestled a final stem into place. “You look like a wee sprite now.” When Aven spotted him, her eyes widened. She straightened the airy folds of her skirt as she rose, and the lace hem fluttered in the breeze. She spoke to him, but by the way her head dipped shyly, he wasn’t able to understand. He saw her pleasure with him, though, and that was enough.
He tugged at his collar some. It seemed too tight, but Ida said that it was the proper way. Since he was to stand with his brother, some suffering was only reasonable. While other folks would be in attendance, Thor was to be a witness for their marriage. Aven, the other. So it was no wonder that she looked as lovely as she did with her ginger hair twisted and pinned. Little wisps of it making her look like a sprite herself.
Remembering his troublesome cuff, he showed it to her. Aven’s brow pinched as she worked to slip the stubborn button into place, her small hand holding his as she did. His heart was banging in his chest because when she finished, he took that hand and led her across the farmyard. He didn’t know if he was ready for this, but one thing he did know—that even if he stumbled his way through, Aven would be there beside him.
She tapped his shoulder and spoke when he looked down at her. “Where are we going?”
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 bo
th. 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.
Thor didn’t realize the size of the feast that Ida had prepared until folks were settled and savoring it. He took his share, and though his heart was beating faster with all that was to come, he tried to eat as the others did.
Cake came next, and that meant the tail end of the meal—and soon—the evening. But to his surprise, dancing followed. He’d forgotten all about such things, so few weddings he’d attended. Aven didn’t urge him into it and instead sat cozy at his side. He wanted to please her, though, so he signaled for Jorgan to tell him when it was a waltz. Sometime later, Jorgan caught his eye over the crowd and gave a nod. Time, then.
Sons of Blackbird Mountain Page 27