“It doesn’t even work.” Thor moved to hand the pocket watch back to his father.
“No, you keep it and think on this—like the Good Book says, there is a time and a season for all things. Anders realized that when he found that old timekeeper in the woods and it changed his life. If you let it, it just may change yours, too.” Bo smiled and patted Thor’s shoulder as he rose from the porch. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his two sons before glancing at the surrounding woods. “Smells like rain. There’s always good fishing when the rain is coming down. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The door closed behind Bo, and in an instant, Cal was beside his brother, reaching for the timepiece. “Let me see that.”
“No.” Thor kept a firm grasp on the pocket watch and rose from the step. “He told me to keep it. You can look at it later.”
Cal’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, looky here. Does this mean you’re learning how to listen to your elders?”
“It’s possible, but only to the smart ones.”
“Knucklehead,” Cal murmured in an affectionate tone. “Going fishing with us tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” He eyed the watch thoughtfully. The old timekeeper captivated him. Funny thing was, he didn’t understand why. “I wanna play around with this a little before I turn in. I may not wake up in time. If I don’t, go on without me.”
“Sure.” Cal called over his shoulder as he went inside the house, “Goodnight.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Caught in a haze of pondering his father’s mysterious advice, Thor stood alone for several minutes. The watch resembled most pocket timepieces. The round metal fit snug in the palm of his hand. The lettering on the outside was hard to make out in the dim light, but the shiny gold finish gleamed brilliantly in the moonlight.
He popped the latch again. The little door swung open with a soft groan. A faint smile crossed his face. He understood the old watch’s aches and pains.
The hands of the clock still stood at midnight. The tiny hand to count off the seconds refused to budge, too. He held the watch up to his ear and shook. The clock didn’t tick, but something rattled inside. He decided to have a closer look.
Leaving behind the humid fall night, he wandered inside the cabin. His footsteps carried him through the living room, floorboards creaking under his weight. The familiar sound comforted him. Everything about the cabin represented the truest aspects of home. His father and Aunt Greta were born in the back bedroom. Cal accused Thor of not honoring his family’s history, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Clutching the watch in one hand, his other hand trailed across a pale blue and gray quilt draped over an antique rocking chair. His grandmother made the quilt, and his great-great grandmother rocked her firstborn daughter in the chair. He paused for a moment on the threshold between the living room and the dining area. His thoughts wandered to the Magnusen family that first drew breath in that cabin. Who were they? Where did they draw their courage? How did they survive during the conflicts of their times? The questions became too much. He released a long sigh and realized that he’d never find the answers to those questions.
He glanced down the darkened hallway to his left. Beyond the living room, dining room and kitchen, his brother and father lay fast asleep in two of the cabin’s three bedrooms. Careful not to disturb them, he moved through the open dining area to the kitchen behind it. On habit, he flipped the switch near the backdoor before grabbing a handful of tools from the drawer underneath the sink and heading to the square, wooden table in the center of the room. Light reflected off the few modern appliances that contradicted the cabin’s timelessness. The dazzling fluorescent glow aided him in his investigation of the broken watch.
Deep in thought, he hunched over the table as he examined the timekeeper. A heart within a heart adorned the front cover. The marking had been done with care, and Thor traced the image with his forefinger. Energy surged through him, and he came close to tossing the watch. Curiosity got the better of him. With his thumb, he turned the watch over. A sentence was engraved on the back.
Whispering, he read, “Love lasts forever.”
The three words seemed simple enough, but their effect on Thor was not. Warmth filled his chest, and his heart began to race. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the odd sensations. Sure, the heirloom was strange, but that was because he had never seen nor heard of it before, that’s all. It certainly wasn’t worth him freaking out. Having convinced himself, Thor shrugged off the moment and disassembled the timepiece.
His nimble fingers slowly spread the tiny parts of the watch onto the table. Ever since he was a boy, he always wanted to know how things worked. He often took his toys apart and put them back together again. While Cal was a thinker, Thor had always been more prone to take the hands on approach.
As he worked with the family heirloom, Bo’s words came back to him. The time for glory had passed him, and he was in the season of transition. Twenty-eight was far too young to pack it all in, but the road before him remained hazy and confused. What path should he take, and would it be the right one? Offers for a better future weren’t knocking at his door, yet he wasn’t without choices. No matter how dismal the future looked, everyone always had a choice. What was his? Even as he fitted the watch’s innards back together, the question rattled in his mind.
Morning came with the cry of a distant rooster, jolting him from his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes as he stood and stretched. A healthy dose of caffeine seemed the best solution for a sleepless night. He started a pot of coffee. Minutes later, the rich aroma began to fill the room. His father and his brother entered the kitchen, looking refreshed from a good night’s rest and decked out in fishing gear. Thor smiled in greeting and grabbed the watch from the table. Resting his backside against the counter, he polished the watch with the edge of his blue denim shirt.
“You pulled an all-nighter?” Cal asked. “That must be some watch.”
“It’s not so bad once you get it working.”
“Did you?” his father asked.
“I think so. I haven’t set it, yet. I left my watch at home, and the clock above the stove needs a new battery.”
Cal glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s half past six. Are you going to bed now?”
Thor turned the dials on the watch to set it. He held the watch to his ear and frowned. The ticking sounded distant and not as strong as it should have been.
“Nah, I’m not tired.”
“Well, if you’re coming with us, get your gear,” his brother advised while he poured the fresh coffee into a thermos. “We’re ready to head out.”
Thor shook the watch. “I’m not going fishing. I’ll take a shower instead, and then go for a walk. Whereabouts are you and Pop fishing? Once I get this thing fixed, maybe I’ll head out that way.”
“North end of the lake,” Bo answered. “We’ll take your gear in case you show up.”
“Thanks.”
A quick shower refreshed him. With the pocket watch held firmly in his hand, he began his slow hike through the woods.
Rain bypassed them during the night and took the heavy humidity with it. The air was light and refreshing. Rays of sunlight beamed down from the cloudless sky and brought warmth to the fall morning. The scent of maple blended in with the woodsy smells of pine and oak. Thor soaked everything in as his feet followed an old trail that led to the small creek, which had once been the source of water for his family’s cabin.
The lack of sleep took its toll on him. Stifling a yawn, he sat at the base of one of the maple trees and leaned back against the trunk. Determined to fix the watch before he succumbed to a nap, he opened the catch and stared intently at the timepiece’s stern face. The time read an hour later than when he had set it.
“Seems right to me,” Thor murmured softly. Just to be sure, he held the watch up to his ear again. This time, the ticking was loud and clear. “It’s good to know there are still some things I can do.” Slumber overt
ook him soon after.
A soft melodious hum roused him from his impromptu nap. Thor felt more relaxed than he had in months. The sound of plopping water accompanied the lilting, feminine voice that drifted in the air. Where he napped was private property. Hikers never ventured that far onto their land. His Good Samaritan instincts kicked in, and he followed the sweet voice, having decided to help the lost soul find her way.
As Thor followed the sounds, he noted differences in the woods that he knew like the back of his hand. The trail wandered off in several haphazard directions. He frowned. A nap in the great outdoors wasn’t what it used to be. Waking up disoriented irritated him.
The voice grew stronger. His pace quickened in time to the melodious tone. He reached her just as she dipped the second pail into the water. Pausing briefly, he allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the view she unwittingly provided.
She seemed about average height for a woman. It was hard to tell for sure since she was bent over. Wearing a long, coarse brown skirt, her clothing appeared outdated, but the rounded curve of her backside was timeless. Breath lodged in his throat. His imagination conjured an image of her without the cumbersome garments. Masculine approval swept through him. “Mmm.”
As she rose to her full height, his heart raced in an unexpected resurgence of primal male interest and expectation. Long, glossy black hair fell in a single braid down her back. The tips of the wispy tendrils brushed against the waistband of her skirt and brought his attention to the small width of her waist. Unable to wait another second to see the face he instinctively knew was beautiful, he coughed once to alert her to his presence.
“Hey.”
She stumbled at the sound of his voice. Quickly and with the gracefulness of a ballerina, she righted herself and stood tall. Surprise shone in her large, dark eyes, her sensual, full lips parted. The beautiful stranger inhaled a sharp breath and answered with husky warmth, “Mr. Anders. Good morning.”
Anders? Thor wondered about that only briefly. Drinking in the sight of her consumed him. Long black hair dramatically framed her creamy milk chocolate complexion. Rounded olive black eyes appeared radiant with life, pain, and compassion. Her face was an expressive mixture of curiosity and dread before an unreadable mask froze her features.
The swift transformation concerned him. He longed to put her at ease. “It’s okay, really. If you’re lost, I can show you how to get back to the main road.”
The mask slipped. Confusion lurked briefly in the depths of her eyes. She stooped to pick up the other wooden pail and moved with hesitation away from the banks of the creek. “Mr. Anders, I’m not lost. I am here to help Miss Eva prepare for the baby. Miss Olivia sent me over this morning. I can go back…”
She spoke as if she knew him and stared at him as if he’d lost his marbles. He rubbed the back of his head. Maybe Cal was right. Maybe the lineman sacked him harder than he thought.
“Sir, are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine. At least, I think I am. Miss…?”
Her eyes widened at that. She then quickly lowered her lashes and moved down the trail that Thor thought he used earlier. Struggling with the full pails, she took great pains to sidestep him. He ignored her apprehension and moved quickly to reach her. His right hand shot out to take the bucket. Their fingers brushed. The initial contact was startling.
Electricity sizzled from the single touch. The pail dropped from their hands. Water splashed. Thor jumped to avoid it.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Anders, sir.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She looked primed to bolt. His hands on her shoulders stopped her. “Please, I’m the one to blame. I scared you and I apologize.”
“You apologize?” Disbelief lit up her eyes. “To me?”
“Yes,” he said with a warm smile as he reluctantly dropped his hands. “I have better manners. I should have offered to carry them both in the first place.”
“Mr. Anders—”
“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Magnusen. Thor Magnusen to be exact.”
“You sure do favor him,” she murmured mostly to herself. Her head tilted. Large eyes squinted at him. “I can see now that you’re not Mr. Anders.”
“No, I’m not,” he agreed with a ready smile. “So what’s your name?”
“It’s Willow, sir.” A small smile touched her full lips before slowly fading away.
“Nice to meet you, Willow.” He took her hand and shook it gently. He then bent forward to grab the handle on the forgotten bucket at their feet. “May I?”
He extended his hand for the pail she still kept a firm hold on. Another quizzical expression crossed her face before she gave him the pail. “Show me where you’re camped out. Maybe I can help you and your pregnant friend.”
Willow gave him another look that said she questioned his sanity. Instead of voicing her thoughts, she nodded once and said, “It is this way, sir.”
Chapter Two
Willow Elkridge walked with her head held high, her back straight, and her thoughts on the man who walked quietly beside her.
He said his name was Magnusen. Thor Magnusen. Thor. God of Thunder. According to Viking history, Thor was the strongest of all the Norse gods and defended them against the forces of evil. Lightning flashed whenever he wielded his ax-hammer. A quick temper warned all who crossed his path. She shuddered. Now that’s a strong title to live up to.
Glancing surreptitiously out of the corner of her eyes, she decided that he was far too beautiful to be a deity of violence, pain, and destruction. His hands, clutching the handles of the buckets, were sturdy, long-fingered, and comely. Worn Kentucky jeans molded to his muscular thighs like a second skin. The matching shirt hung loosely on him but did little to hide the breadth of his shoulders and chest. His rolled sleeves revealed the strength of his corded forearms and the faint dusting of baby-fine light brown hair.
Her heart pounded under her breast. Heat coursed through her. Surely, it was indecent to mark his form so closely. Common sense prevailed. He was Mr. Anders’s kin after all. A woman of color knew better than to fall for the charm and fancy of a white man, no matter how comely or friendly he seemed. Whether slave or free, succumbing to such an attraction only led to heartbreak and quite possibly death. Her urges would be best held in check lest she forget her place or her aspirations.
The lesson from the impromptu lecture did not sit well in her head. Against her better judgment, she stole another glimpse. This time, his face captivated her.
What a magnificent face it was! Compelling blue eyes set off his ruggedly handsome features. His skin, darkened by the sun, had been surprisingly soft to the touch. His lips were full and curved into a generous, warm smile upon her blatant perusal. Shame overtook her, and she stumbled on the path.
“Are you okay?” The rich timbre of his voice wrapped around her like a velvet cloak.
“Excuse me?” Willow fought desperately to rein in her confusing reaction to him.
“Did you hurt yourself? Maybe I should look at your ankle. You might have twisted it or something.”
“My ankle is fine, sir.” His concern for her well-being was another pleasing aspect to the baffling man. Mr. Anders would have never offered to look at her ankle, and she would not have wanted him to if he had. Even if their blood was the same, the two men were distinctly different; nothing alike at all.
“My name is Thor.” His dark blue gaze bored into her and his warm smile returned. “Please, don’t call me sir. It reminds me of my father.”
His response baffled her. Even Reverend Brown, the white man who took her in after her parents died, never spoke with such boldness. Calling a white man by his birth name was unheard of. No matter his age or station in life, she knew that such familiarity was unacceptable. Her brows knitted together, and she said nothing more.
“Let me hear you say it.” His enthusiasm reminded her of a playful pup. He tilted his head down as he looked at her in a breathtakingly charming manner. “Say
it, Willow…Thor.”
Her name on his lips caused her steps to falter. She righted herself before she could embarrass herself further and shook her head in refusal. The spark of attraction burned brightly between them. Was it all sport for him? She dared not take that risk.
“You’ll call me Sir, but not by my name. Why not?”
“You know why not,” she responded in a choked whisper. “It is not seemly for me to do so.”
He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the trail. A confused frown furrowed his brow. “What? Not seemly? What are you talking about? Of course you can call me by my first name. These are modern times, you know.”
“These times are indeed modern, but not quite that simple as you well know, sir.” Swallowing hard, she glanced at the surrounding thicket. The cabin stood only a few yards away. Her reprieve from her chores had ended. She beckoned for the pails. “If you please, I must carry these now.”
“No.” A muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. “I said I’d carry them, and I will. Besides, they’re too heavy for you. Now what’s this about the times not being simple? They’re simple enough for me to call you Willow, isn’t that right?”
“Well, of course,” she muttered as her irritation grew. He knew darn well that it was fine for him to be less familiar with her. Why must he persist in teasing her?
“Well, if I can call you Willow, and by your own admission, I can… Well, by my own admission, you are to call me Thor.”
“I cannot, sir.”
His gaze darkened and his mouth thinned with displeasure. “Then I’m not moving an inch.”
“As you wish, sir,” she countered, holding out her hands again. “The water, please.”
“No.” He shook his head like a spoiled child. “I said I’m not moving. I’ll have to move to give you the buckets, and I’m not gonna do it. Not unless you call me by my name.”
“This is nonsense,” she muttered underneath her breath.
Love Lasts Forever Page 2
