Daughters of Northern Shores

by Joanne Bischof

  If Haakon had a cannon, he’d have lit it. Instead, he forced himself to stay calm.

  “You boys sure know how to pick ’em.” After dropping the smoldering match in the dirt, Harlan referenced Tess next with a brass-and-curdled term. One Ida had raised them never to say. “Why Pete fancies her . . .” Harlan shook his burly head. “She don’t need to be tended to. She need to be taught a lesson.”

  One the brute would have managed had Peter not stood up to him that long-ago night, risking limb and life to protect her.

  Haakon stared at the man who had once pummeled his own heir and who’d left Cora’s son in a ditch for smiling at his daughter, Sibby. Al had scarcely survived the beating by Sorrel men, and Harlan’s disdain was far from spent. Something had to be done.

  The reason Haakon was here. But with Harlan still leering at him . . . “I suppose there’s no sense in strikin’ a deal, then.” He kept a cool demeanor as he nabbed up the jar of moonshine that he’d paid for.

  Orville sat still as ever—nothing moving but his dark eyes that ricocheted between them.

  Haakon squared his shoulders, and though he stood at ease, he was tall enough to acknowledge Harlan eye to eye. He wasn’t afraid to handle Peter’s father. Haakon knew what it was to be wicked. He’d spent his whole life heeding his own desires. While he was trying to veer far from that path, he was ready to clink glasses with the devil once more. But this time, he wasn’t going to swig. “I thank you for your time. Sorry we won’t be able to sort somethin’ out.” He shifted the jar to his other hand and stepped wide of the fire.

  The Sorrels exchanged silent appeals. Norgaard brew had been one of the finest drinks to ever stem from these parts, and they all knew it. Thor’s liquor hadn’t blown up their barn by being weak.

  “You just expect me to forget what you did?” Jed asked from where he sat.

  “That was a long time ago, sir—Mr. Sorrel.”

  “Not long enough.”

  Here it was. The moment he’d been sick over all day. Really, since this whole plan had begun. “Then since we can’t bury the hatchet, while I walk down that hill, why don’t you go ahead and take me out. And if not, you know how to find our farm come tomorrow night, and I’ll have everything cleared away in the cabin.” A downright truth. Then to Harlan, “And if you so much as touch any other soul on our land, I’ll see that you spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

  With that, Haakon stepped away. Though no more than a click, the priming of a shotgun was loud to his ears. His whole body surged with heat, and he braced himself for the trigger pull. Breath tight in his throat, he walked until the dark swallowed him up. He pined with the need to glance over his shoulder, but fixed the notion from mind. No sense appearing weak now that the deal was practically sealed. The last time he’d turned his back on Jed and his men, bullets had pelted his path, and Thor had fought through a wall of Sorrels to save him. And now? Even as he braced for buckshot to tear through him, there was nothing but silence as he walked down the slope toward home. As clear an agreement as any other that the men on this mountain had accepted his terms.

  THIRTY-ONE

  THOR LIFTED THE DRIPPING SCRUB BRUSH from the pail and rammed sudsy bristles against the cabin floorboards. For too long these stains had lived down here, so it was with relief that he sloshed water onto the wood and scoured the droplets of Haakon’s blood with all his might.

  Last he’d knelt here, it had been atop Haakon as he’d taught him the fiercest lesson he could. While time did nothing to diminish the wretchedness of Haakon’s intentions, it tended to a different kind of work. One built on the foundation of Haakon’s renewed behavior and Aven’s growing peace.

  As for Haakon being allowed to stay, Thor still had the deed to this cabin. He knew the importance it had for his brother. Where Jorgan had been given the house upon their da’s death, Thor had inherited the orchards. This cabin and the surrounding acreage was perhaps less grand when assessing the different realms, but Haakon had never complained. This place might as well have been a castle for all the time he had spent caring for it.

  Thor still needed to consult the others, but if they were agreed, this deed could be placed in Haakon’s hand again. While the property would be for him to do with as he wished, Thor couldn’t shake the desire for it to not be sold off. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to watch Haakon leave again. It had broken him then, and it would do just the same now. Perhaps worse. In that instance, it would be Haakon’s call, and for now, Thor had a floor to restore.

  Finished with the nearest boards, he leaned back on his heels. The old wine barrel was at his elbow now, so he shoved it farther away and in doing so caught sight of someone in the doorway. He expected it to be Haakon, but it was a dark-haired man wearing a floppy hat. His beard was stringy, face pockmarked, and Thor knew the moment he saw him that it was a moonshiner from high up in the hills. Thor knew little of courtships in these parts, but he’d heard that the moonshiner and Sibby had recently wed.

  He’d never spoken to the man and certainly hadn’t tasted his liquor, which made it all the more a shock to see him standing in the doorway holding a filled case of quart jars.

  Thor sucked in a breath and rose. The scrub brush still in hand, he dropped it in the bucket. Reactions clattered inside him—one being to step away, another being to step nearer and inquire as to what the man sought. But panic riddled him from the inside because something wasn’t right. Aven, Fay, and the boys were due to have tea this afternoon with Sibby. An unexpected invitation that Thor hadn’t questioned, but now . . . Was something wrong?

  Before Thor could reach for his notepad, the man lowered the crate of moonshine into the open doorway. “This is a little something from your brother.” His eyes met Thor’s as he did, and before he straightened, he lifted a center jar, one buried in as much straw as all the others. But instead of holding clear whiskey, it encased a fold of paper. The man gave a subtle nod and Thor returned it to show he understood.

  “A pleasure doin’ business with y’all.” The man pulled off his hat, then clapped it back on.

  He stepped away, and just as unexpectedly as he had come, he was gone.

  Thor stood unmoving, trying to make sense of what was going on, but knowing he had to face whatever was in that note, he moved nearer to the crate and lifted the only jar he was going to touch.

  Desperate for Aven, Thor approached the house and rapped on the door. When it opened, his wife stood there in a gown she’d tailored from a glossy evergreen fabric. All of them were due to leave for Sibby’s, but he needed a moment with her first.

  “Thor!” Her surprise showed in the sweetness of her smile.

  Much less open about his emotions just now, he coaxed her out with a beckoning of his finger, and when she paced into the yard beside him, he pressed a hand to the small of her back, urging her to follow him. She smelled of honeysuckle, and the Sunday-best dress was like silk to his fingertips.

  Aven laid a hand on his sleeve and spoke when he looked at her. “They’re all to leave in a minute.”

  Thor nodded to show that he knew. She could catch up.

  In urging her on, he pressed more firmly to help her understand his wishes. When she peered up at him, he saw the same startling he’d felt in Orville’s presence. On the walk over here, Thor had prayed she would do as he asked and knew he needn’t doubt for a moment as she kept stride with him. Her steps taking two to his one, he slowed some as he led them to one of the outbuildings, this one a shed where they’d stored much of Aunt Dorothe’s old things, fabrics, boxes, and the like.

  Thor opened the door for her.

  The last time they’d stood in this shed together, they’d been combatants and not lovers, him frightening her senseless in the dark because he couldn’t speak and her stabbing him in the arm with those stupid scissors she’d been holding. Now he had the scar and the woman. Which was saying something. For years since, they’d had privilege to one another, and as much as he
’d relished it, never had there been an instance in their marriage when he’d been so needful of his bride or more on the cusp of losing her.

  She could have just as easily paused to question him, but she entered. Following, Thor left the door ajar. In the shadows she turned to speak, but he touched her waist, guiding her behind the door where, for the first time in far too long, he kissed her.

  Her gasp was cut short by his urgency. The doctor’s missive had directed that such a joining not occur until tomorrow, but Thor doubted a few hours would make the difference.

  For a fragment of time, he feared she would reject him—heed lingering cautions as was wise—but she cupped the back of his head and pulled him as close as her temperate strength allowed. Aiming to help, he pressed her farther back until a tall stack of trunks lent her support. Though his manner was fervent, he could feel her welcoming of it as her fingertips grazed the side of his beard. Not wanting to be forceful, he took care to savor her with softness. She kissed him with an ardent drive, and it made him feel alive again, this piece of his body and soul that had been missing.

  It was to just be a few stolen moments, so when she started on the top buttons of his shirt, he closed a hand around her own, stilling her fingers. He broke the sweetness of the kiss to lift the inside of her wrist to his lips, equal parts savoring the renewed liberty while longing for it to be more. She tried for the buttons of his shirt again, this time with quicker persistence as if fearing he’d stop her. Losing the battle with himself, Thor pressed his hands flat to the trunk on either side of her and lowered his head, yielding. The pause allowed him to catch his breath and regain his wits.

  She needed to go. And it had to be now.

  He pulled away, taking a step aside. The separating had to be immediate before he lost his nerve. Before he longed for more and more of this and forgot what the night ahead would actually hold. Not long-awaited pleasures but a grim reality. With hasty fingers, Thor crammed his buttons back into place. How he wished he could speak to his wife as he did, but he had to pause to do so. When he did, he looked into a face wrought with the same regret he felt.

  S-I-B-B-Y. Tea.

  Aven’s brow furrowed. Yes, the outing was that important. Haakon’s message from the jar had made that more than clear, and his own instincts reinforced the urgency. He added Now, and when her confusion deepened, he stepped nearer again, cupped the side of her face and spoke her name as best he knew how. “Av—”

  Her eyes widened, and in Sign he added, Trust me.

  Slowly, she nodded.

  S-I-B-B-Y now you go.

  Her confusion made her trust more potent. She was following his lead though she knew not where it voyaged. His sweet wife. He’d vowed to protect and cherish her, and this was that promise at its most zealous.

  He touched fingertips to his lips and lowered his hand in Thank you.

  She nodded again. “I’ll see you in a while.” If her voice was soft, he couldn’t tell, but he sensed it might have been, so faint had been the avowal on her lips. Did she believe in those words? Was she trying to rally herself? Or did she simply know how desperately he needed to watch her say them?

  With all the bravery he knew she possessed, Aven slipped from the shed as quickly as she’d come, stepping out into the sunlight that shone like melted copper on her hair. Ida, Fay, and the boys were already on the path that would lead to the Sorrels’ plantation. Thor watched as Aven called out to them, breaking into a faint run to catch up to the group. Aven accepted the lacy umbrella that Fay held for her. In Ida’s arms lay Tusie, and Aven shifted the umbrella to shield the pair before turning back to glimpse Thor. If she sensed this was him saying goodbye for now, she was being courageous about it.

  Still in the shadows, he stepped to the doorway so she might see him better, praying it wouldn’t be the last, and watched until they were well on their way.

  Needing to keep moving, he started across the yard to the cabin when he realized he’d not finished the buttoning of his shirt. Two at the bottom hung undone. He fastened them with haste, looking up to ensure that Aven was well along with the others. That’s when he saw that Haakon was striding across the yard with a sack of grain on his shoulder, bound for the barn.

  As Thor continued toward the cabin, he finished minding his rumpled shirt. Haakon glanced to the shed where Aven had appeared from, then back to Thor, who’d done the same. Last, Haakon rolled his eyes, but as he turned away Thor caught a trace of amusement that underlined everything he’d come to hope about his brother’s acceptance of Thor and Aven’s marriage. Maybe people really did change. In fact, he now knew it to be so.

  THIRTY-TWO

  SEATED AT THE GREAT ROOM TABLE, HAAKON blew out a slow breath. It was agony sitting here waiting. Well past midnight, the house was dark and quiet, and while it had been years since he’d been in this room, it didn’t hold the ceremony he’d once imagined his return would. A lone candle burned on the bare table, and while it was enough light to see by, the way it danced and trembled served as a reminder of how easily a single light could be snuffed out.

  Heavy with the burden of this night, Haakon lowered his head. He didn’t need to glimpse his pocket watch again to know the time.

  By now the key would be sliding into the lock. It would click, but Thor wouldn’t hear it. Then footsteps on the stairs. In Haakon’s mind, he slowly counted them until he was sure that whoever had come for Thor was on the second level.

  Haakon closed his eyes, pinching them tight. He thought of his brother and the summer they had built the treehouse. Of how he couldn’t yet write his name, but how using the tip of his knife, Thor had scratched it for him into the trunk of the maple. It was that same night that they’d first bunked out there. The three of them, free as birds under the stars. Haakon had snuck a loaf of bread from Ida’s kitchen, and Thor had snitched a jar of jam. Jorgan had offered up a whole bag of taffy, and together they’d made themselves fat and happy as the wind played in the leaves and the heat of summer melted into air so soft it lulled them to sleep like babies.

  The next day, they’d woken early and swum at the pond. The morning fog had barely lifted by the time they’d started a game of king of the hill. Haakon always lost, but he never minded. If only his brothers had known how much he just wanted to belong. How much he craved their time spent with him. To teach him.

  He’d walked in their shadows not because he had to but because he’d wanted to.

  Time had changed him, though, and in striving to be what he thought was a man, he’d lost sight of that. He meant not to do it again. It was for that reason—and a million others—that Haakon opened a box of .44s. He stuffed several into the magazine of his levergun, then, reaching over, handed a box of shotgun cartridges to the brother beside him. Thor accepted it.

  Haakon showed him his watch. The Sorrel men would be at the top landing of the cabin now, and upon discovering Thor nowhere to be found, they’d be furious.

  Thor shook his head, pulled out his own pocket watch, and offered it over in comparison. They were an hour apart.

  “Huh?”

  Your time wrong.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Haakon muttered. He couldn’t remember what continent he’d been on when he’d last set his timepiece, but since coming home, he’d apparently been operating in the wrong time zone. No wonder he was so tired. “I guess we can all sit at ease a little longer, then.” No sense in ambushing men who weren’t there.

  Thor’s mustache lifted as he pocketed his own watch again.

  All of Haakon’s life, he’d wondered what Thor might say if he could truly speak it. Partly because Haakon was curious, and partly because he wished the opportunity upon him. To hear the sound of one’s voice was like knowing the beating of one’s own heart. Thor would never know that, but what he did know was something that Haakon longed for. Thor knew what it was like to walk with integrity. To lead in a way that others followed because they knew they would be safe.

  Of all the things Haakon wan
ted in this life, it was finally that very trait. It hadn’t happened suddenly, but he’d learned it in unnoticing ways. First with his family, who had been more patient with him through his self-centered adolescence than he’d deserved. Then afresh through Tate Kennedy, who led the crew the same way: humble but fearless. Last, he’d seen it in the women in his life—in more ways than he could ever tally.

  When he’d first looked at Tusenfryd through the glass, it had amplified his longing once and for all to protect those in need. Haakon wanted Aven’s daughter to know—without a shred of doubt—that just as with her father, she would always be safe at her uncle’s side. Bjørn and Sigurd too. That they could look upon him and, regardless of what life handed him, he could teach them in wisdom.

  That he could learn to be even a small portion of who Thor was.

  Thor was worthy of everything that Haakon had once wanted to strip from him. To his shame, that hadn’t been so long ago. Haakon couldn’t undo that, but as Aven had demonstrated, and as Cora had reminded him of, there was forgiveness. Haakon had sought such a newness in the barn earlier, alone save for the horses and the sack of grain he bore. One burden he’d laid down right there against the stall, the other he’d laid down because he couldn’t make it any other way. Now he meant to walk forward in a way that did right by that kind of freedom. It wouldn’t be easy, but that’s what made it important.

  Thor’s eyes were down as he opened the action on Jorgan’s double-barrel Remington. Every firearm had been so well cleaned that there wasn’t a speck of dust on the barrel. With those meaty hands of his, Thor pushed the release to open the barrel, then crammed two shotgun shells into place. He closed the gun and handed it over to Jorgan, who stood waiting. Jorgan’s gaze was steady on the windows. Was he thinking of his wife and sons just now? His family, who—thanks to Sibby’s help—was tucked safely away in another county.

  The women wouldn’t have known when they ventured to Sibby’s for tea that the friendly pastime had been a diversion. Upon their arrival, they would have found Sibby with a wagon, ready to whisk them farther to safety. Haakon knew they were gone because when Peter had checked just an hour ago, there was nothing in the Sorrel household but a table laden with strewn dishes and a ticking mantle clock. Even the Sorrel women and children had sought secret shelter with a neighboring family for this night. Peter had seen to it.