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.
Taking her hand, Thor led her to the outskirts of it all. To his surprise, the steps weren’t as difficult when a swell of people were doing them all at once. He turned her under his arm enough times that she looked breathless with delight. She beamed up at him. Would one dance satisfy her? He wished it wasn’t such a struggle for him. It seemed she could do this all the way until dawn.
But the decision need not be made, for as the bow still pulled slow across the fiddle, other instruments were set away. A gentle sound, he imagined. Guests began to bid farewell. Contented and waving toward the wagons that would bear them home.
By the light of the moon, Jorgan bid a good night and took his bride inside. To sidestep an awkwardness on the stair, Thor waited a few minutes, then led Aven out of the evening air.
The kitchen was dark. Strange without Ida in it, but she had already seen to every last detail. The remaining fixings of supper were tucked away to make life around here rather easy, and she’d made plans to stay with her sister for the week.
Aven’s shoes were dainty beside his on the stair, and he tried to take temperate steps so as not to “thunder about,” as Dorothe used to say. In the attic, Thor closed the door. Aven clasped her hands together, not straying from where she stood in front of it. Was she anxious of him?
With sunset having come and gone, the light was dim, but not so dim that he couldn’t see enough to light a candle. The single flame was sparse, so he tipped the match to one more. Thor glanced at Aven, hoping she wouldn’t mind. He needed something to see her by. To know what she was thinking or wanting or wishing to say. Otherwise it would be dark, and she would be lost to him. Perhaps a pleasure for her in time, when he was surer, but for now, he hoped this would be alright.
Rubbing his hands together, he tried to think of what would be the right thing to do next.
Aven’s red hair was coming loose of its pins, or was she working it free? She lowered another slip of metal and set it aside. Of her own doing, then. Piece by piece, her coiled hair tumbled. The color striking against her pale neck. Overcome, he watched until she finished.
He hadn’t thought enough of this through. Not formally as Jorgan would have, who had weeks to prepare. The curtains weren’t even drawn, so Thor moved to do that. As soon as he finished with the last window, he feared he might appear too eager. Perhaps they should make conversation for a while. Give Aven time to acclimate to being in this room alone with him. Of him as her husband.
He reached for a chair, thinking to draw it near for her, but when she touched his hand—stopping him—she didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in conversation. Not of the talking variety. Instead, he came to realize a language that he understood much better. One of action instead of words, and as the moon made its arc in the night sky, she was his undoing with it.
THIRTY-FOUR
Thor was still asleep. Lying on his stomach just as she’d found him the morning in the great room when he’d slumbered beside her. Only then, he’d been a man she scarcely knew. Now the broad back that rose and fell was hers to touch. Aven wanted to slide her hand there. Feel his skin and strength all over again. But with this her first morning at his side, she feared she would startle him. Eyes still closed, his world was silent and dark. If she didn’t take care, he’d be in for a jolt that he wasn’t ready for.
She nestled in as gently as she could. Chilled, Aven tried to ignore the cold, but as Thor slept on, she braved a careful tug on the blankets, pulling them gingerly toward her chin.
Not gentle enough when he lurched upright.
A flash of silver filled his hand as he pulled a knife from beneath his pillow.
With a screech, she tumbled over the side of the bed, glad to have tugged a quilt with her, for it softened her fall. She bundled the blanket up around herself, and suddenly Thor was leaning across the bed to look down.
“Did you forget I was here?” Aven asked.
The side of his mouth lifted, and all at once there was a world of understanding in his eyes. So sparse sleep had been that if he’d forgotten about her, it had only been in that still place of dawn between dreaming and waking.
“Perhaps we can agree that I didn’t sneak up on you?”
He reached over the edge of the bed, pulling her and the bundle of bedding back up. The knife he closed before sliding it from sight. In what she knew as the word sorry, he circled a fist around his chest. Thor settled back in when she laid to face him. He worked his thick arm beneath her and pulled her near. As tender an apology as she could feel. Perhaps startling him hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. His eyes closed again, and his fingers began to play with a twist of her hair.
Aven tapped him so he’d look at her. “You’ll be keeping the knife under the pillow, then?”
He nodded sleepily.
She poked him this time. “Since I’m going to be around rather often, ’twould be better in the drawer, perhaps?”
He looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, then reached over her. The drawer opened and closed. In lying back down, he kissed the far side of her neck. Then the tip of her nose.
“Thank you, husband.” And apparently the apology was continuing. Aven giggled.
He moved the kiss to just below her ear, and it was some time later that she finally coaxed them both from this place with the promise of breakfast. One so late that it might as well be deemed teatime. ’Twould be easy to linger longer, for it was his nearness she craved and nothing more, but if she didn’t eat something, she would faint away. More selfish, she meant to keep his strength up. After checking the button on the waist of her skirt, Aven whispered that to him in the hall, and with his eyes on her mouth, she was rewarded with one of his gentle laughs.
She tiptoed past Jorgan and Fay’s room thinking not to disturb them.
To her surprise, the kitchen was already bustling as Fay pulled a steaming kettle from the stove to fill two mugs and Jorgan stirred a sizzling pan of sweet meats. It seemed they weren’t the only ones who had forgotten about breakfast. There followed a few moments of smiles and attempts at small talk, but finally, they all had to laugh. Thor rustled his brother’s hair, signing what looked like an impish little phrase.
“Yeah, well, you slept through church too,” Jorgan said with a grin.
Chuckling, Aven went to fix two more cups of coffee. A moment later, Jorgan and Thor stepped out onto the porch. She carried the cups out to find the mood much shifted, everyone quieted and watching the near end of the road. She lifted her gaze to see Peter striding close, a limp in his normally strong gait.
Thor stepped out to meet him. Jorgan followed. Even from where she stood, Aven could see a nasty gash across Peter’s ear and a fresh bruise along his jaw. He was staying in one of the old cabins on the farm. Not too far from where Cora lived. Had he wandered back home? Or had his family come to find him?
Peter didn’t speak until he’d come to the edge of the porch. “Ammo’s gone missin’, and they think you done it. I told ’em you didn’t.”
Aven looked to her husband. He circled Peter, tipping his head some as he considered Peter’s injuries. She’d seen Thor angered before, but this was different. He was collected, but underneath was an enmity for who had done this that she could feel from where she stood.