Years

by LaVyrle Spencer

  When the lunch was cleared away, the adults collected their sleepy children, tucked them in the hay-filled wagons, and headed their horses home.

  Kristian, who’d been tippling on the sly, immediately disappeared upstairs to escape the close scrutiny of his grandmother. Nissa made “the long walk” out back in the cold, and when she returned, Linnea did the same.

  On her way back to the house, she tried to puzzle out the abrupt change in Theodore’s mood. But her mind wasn’t working well. She dropped her head back and sucked in deep breaths, trying to neutralize the effects of the potent aquavit. But in spite of the food, coffee, and fresh air, her head was still light and buzzing.

  Back in the house the lamp had been left on the kitchen table for her. Not trusting herself to carry it up the steps in her tipsy condition, she lowered the wick until blackness settled over the room. As she tiptoed toward the stairway, Nissa’s bedroom door opened, casting a pale gold splash of lantern light across the living room and into the dim recesses of the kitchen.

  “Nissa?” Linnea inquired softly.

  “No.”

  Linnea drew a sharp breath and held it as Theodore appeared around the doorway and stopped in her path. His feet were bare and he’d removed his outer shirt. In the muted glow the top of his underwear became a pale blur. She made out the silhouette of his suspenders, trailing beside his knees as they had that day by the school well, and the neck placket of his underwear, with several buttons open. His face was in shadow, but she sensed belligerence in the wide-set feet, the stiff arms at his sides.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  “You weren’t really expecting Nissa anyway, were you?”

  “I wasn’t expecting anyone!” She edged around him and stalked toward the stairs, but hadn’t touched the first step before he spun her around by an arm.

  “Oh, weren’t you?”

  In the dark confines of the narrow landing, their chests almost touched. His grip was bruising.

  “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden, Theodore, you’re hurting my arm. Let go!”

  Instead, he gripped it tighter. “Little missy, if you can’t keep level-headed when you drink aquavit, maybe you should stick to milk. It’s better suited to somebody your age anyway!”

  “My age! I’m eighteen years old, Theodore Westgaard, how dare you treat me like a child!”

  “Eighteen, and all grown up, is that it?” he mocked.

  “Yes!” She spit in a whisper, enraged at being unable to shout at him, but afraid of waking the house. “Not that you’ve noticed!”

  He laughed derisively, his voice low. “Just because you left home and wear a bird-wing hat and drink aquavit doesn’t make you grown up, little missy.”

  “Stop calling me that! I told you before—”

  “What was the idea of flirting with John tonight?” Two hands clamped her upper arms and drew her almost to tiptoe. “He’s not very bright, don’t you know that? But just because he’s not doesn’t mean he hasn’t got feelings. So what do you think you’re doing, teasing him that way? And if he falls for your shenanigans, then what? He’s not like other men — he won’t understand when you tell him that you were only fooling.”

  “You’re crazy! I wasn’t flirting with John!”

  “Oh, what would you call it then? All that hanging on his arm and being his partner and claiming John found you first?”

  She suddenly saw how it must have looked to Theodore. “B... but I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “That’s not how it looked. That’s not how it looked at all.” He gave her a little shake that further threatened her equilibrium. “A lesson, huh? What happens when a little girl tries to act like the grown-ups and drinks too much aquavit.”

  She neither fought nor conceded, but let him grip her arms until she knew there’d be a string of black-and-blue marks on each. She sighed. “Oh, Theodore, you’re so blind,” she said softly, resting her fingertips against his chest. “When will you see that I’m not a little girl any more than you’re an old man?”

  His hands fell from her as if she’d turned into a living torch. She grabbed the front of his underwear to hold him. Beneath her knuckles his heart knocked crazily. “Admit it, Theodore.”

  He clutched her wrists and forced them down. “You’ve had too much to drink, Miss Brandonberg.”

  “Have I?” she asked calmly.

  His head loomed over her. His grip was deathly on her wrists, his voice tight with anger. “First John and now me. Brother against brother, is that it?”

  “Don’t,” she begged softly, understanding his need to erect barriers. “Please... don’t.”

  They stood poised in the clutches of a tension more powerful than anything either of them had ever experienced before. His fingertips sank into the soft skin of her wrist where her pulse thrummed hot and fast. The shadows of the stairwell hid all but the vague outlines of their faces as they stared at each other in silence. The night seemed to throb about them with a seductive insistence all its own.

  Suddenly, with a soft, mewling sound, Linnea pulled free, flung her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his. He made absolutely no response, holding himself rigid, with his lips sealed tightly for a full ten seconds. Then his hands came down on her shoulders, trying to force her away. But she ‘clung to him, fervent and eager, knowing she would die of humiliation if he remained stubborn and refused to return the kiss. His thumbs dug into her shoulderblades, his fingers into her back. He pushed and she clung until they both trembled in silent combat, their breathing heavy.

  Suddenly he gave in. His powerful hands drew her up until their chests touched. With a groan of reluctant capitulation he slanted his head and began returning the kiss, moving his lips over hers without restraint, opening his mouth to graze his tongue along her childishly locked lips. At the first touch she stiffened slightly, then shuddered with surprise. Against her lips he whispered, “You asked for it, little missy, so open your mouth and learn to kiss the way a woman does.”

  His tongue returned insistently, and at its touch Linnea realized a sharp difference between this kiss and those she’d experienced before. The others had slightly revolted her. This one asked to be answered in kind. She opened her lips experimentally and felt the wondrous shock of heat and wetness as Theodore’s tongue boldly entered her mouth and slipped in a full, voluptuous circle around its confines. Shyly, she followed his lead, returning the intimacy, tasting him, sampling his texture — all sleek and heated and flavored of aquavit and coffee. Her body came alive with sensations more compelling than any she’d known before.

  So this is what it’s supposed to be like! Oh, Teddy, Teddy, teach me more.

  She strained closer and he crushed her against the wool texture of his underwear for altogether too short a time. Even before she could tell if Theodore’s heart hammered as wildly as her own, he drew back and lifted his head, holding her away. His breath pelted her face, beating back a loose strand of hair from her forehead while her vitals pulsed, unrequited. When he spoke, the words were wrenched out angrily from between clenched teeth.

  “You’re playing with fire, little girl.”

  Then he was gone, leaving her shaken. She touched her moist, trembling lips, her heart, her stomach. Confused, aroused, she stumbled up the stairs, into the safe familiarity of her icy attic room, to lay beneath the covers and shiver. Her breasts ached pleasantly and her head spun crazily. But it wasn’t all from aquavit.

  Linnea awakened the following morning with the kiss still fresh on her mind. She touched her lips, as if the imprint of it remained. She flung her arms above her head, closed her eyes, and saw his face as it had looked when he’d winked at her last night, flushed, merry, with the lock of hair trailing down his forehead. A handsome face whose smile she’d come to crave, in whose gaze she longed to lose herself. The thought of him filled her with a giddiness to see him again. But when she did, what would she say to him? What did one say to a man the morning after you’d forced h
im to kiss you thoroughly?

  They met at breakfast and she stared at him with open fascination, as if she’d never seen him before, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

  For a fraction of a moment his footsteps paused when he saw her across the kitchen. The aquavit had left his head thumping with a slow, incessant ache. The pain increased at the sight of her, looking rather breathless and uncertain, her hands clasped just below her breasts.

  Move, fool, before Ma sees the two of you gawking this way.

  “Morning,” he said, forcing himself to turn away from her bright, expectant face.

  “Morning.”

  For the first time ever, he felt self-conscious washing up in front of her. This is crazy, he thought. Yet he avoided her eyes all during breakfast. And he avoided her all during the day.

  But Linnea had something she wanted to say to him. She finally tracked him down to the tack room in the late afternoon. He sat in his worn wooden chair, rubbing soap on a saddle, unaware that she stood behind him. She drew a deep, shaky breath, and tried for a steady voice.

  “Hello, Theodore.”

  The sound of her voice created havoc in his heart, but he forced himself not to jump. It was risky business, stealing kisses in the dark with a girl like her. One of them had to come to his senses and there seemed only one way to do it. He gave her a desultory half-glance over his shoulder and kept on working.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  “I’m sony about last night.”

  He looked over his shoulder once more, unsmiling.

  “For what?”

  She was stunned. For what? He could sit there looking as unemotional as one of his field horses and ask, For what? She dropped her eyes to the floor and said softly, “You know.”

  “Oh, you mean you drank too much, too?” He turned back to his task, hunching over the saddle. “My head still feels like there’s a steam engine running inside it.”

  She gulped and stared at his broad shoulders. “You mean you... you don’t remember?”

  He chuckled softly, remembering everything. Vividly. “Not much. You were my partner for the second set, weren’t you?”

  The blood surged to her face, but he didn’t turn around to see it.

  “Yes, I was. And you got upset with me because I agreed to be John’s partner next week. Don’t you remember that either?”

  “Afraid not. That aquavit is powerful stuff. Today I pay the piper.”

  Linnea stood rooted for several more seconds, abashed that he should have forgotten something that had rocked her to her very core, no matter how much aquavit she’d drunk! Suddenly her eyes narrowed and a spurt of anger flicked through her. Why, he’s lying! The stubborn Norwegian mule is lying! But why?

  The answer was obvious: the kiss had affected him as deeply as it had affected her.

  Stiffening, she spun on a heel and slammed out of the barn.

  He swiveled on his chair, frowned at the empty doorway, then stretched to his feet. He stepped over the saddle and flung the oily rag down. Bracing his hands on the edge of the tool bench, he stared out the small window at the snowy paddock, remembering her pressing warmly against his arm the day they’d turned the horses loose, and last night, feeling her breasts flattened against his chest, and her arms clinging to his neck... her mouth offered freely... tempting... innocent...

  He clamped his jaw. The muscles of his cheeks twitched.

  Wet behind the ears! Didn’t even know how to kiss yet!

  Grim-faced, he rammed a fist down on the rough-hewn tool bench. But it didn’t help a bit. It didn’t make her any older or himself any younger.

  * * *

  The extended Westgaard family was much closer than Linnea had at first realized. It had only been harvesting that had kept them apart. Now that winter had set in she grew used to seeing them often. Quite naturally they gravitated toward Nissa, so Theodore’s house became the gathering spot more often than the others’.

  Linnea came to learn their individual places within the family clan. Of Ulmer, the oldest, the others most often asked advice. John, being slow, was the most protected and cosseted. Theodore received their gratitude for giving “Ma” a home. He also received their sympathy, for they knew he was the one, ironically, whom Nissa had always picked on the most and made work the hardest. Lars was the happiest, the one who brought out the humor in all the rest. Clara, being the baby, and the only girl, and pregnant to boot, was doted on shamelessly by all her brothers. But it hadn’t spoiled her one bit. The longer Linnea knew Clara, the better she liked her and the greater grew her urge to confide more deeply in Theodore’s sister.

  There were countless reactions roiling within Linnea since the night she’d kissed Theodore. Chagrin, curiosity, irritation, and fascination. Theodore was fascinated, too — Linnea could tell. There were times when she’d glance up unexpectedly and find him watching her across the room. Times when they met in a doorway and he stepped back too quickly to keep a safe distance as she passed. And once, getting settled in their chairs at the table, when their backsides bumped and his face turned scarlet. But there were other times when he acted as if he were irritated simply by being in the same house with her. Others when he seemed unaware of her existence. She had no idea from day to day what thoughts churned behind his silent scowl or flat expressionlessness.

  As her frustration mounted, she felt drawn toward Clara. But Clara was Theodore’s sister. Perhaps it was unseemly of Linnea to want to air her feelings with someone so close to him. But there was no one else, and when Linnea found herself becoming short tempered with the children at school, she realized they should not be the ones to pay for her frustration. She must have a confidante.

  She walked over to the Linder farm one Saturday, and Clara herself answered the door. After a fond hug of greeting the two sat at the kitchen table, where Clara resumed cleaning eggs with a sanding block. She picked up a brown egg from the wire basket. As she stroked it with the sandpaper, it made a soft shh-shh in the cozy room.

  Linnea fidgeted on the edge of her chair, staring at Clara’s busy hands, wondering how to begin.

  “How about some coffee?” Clara asked.

  “No, thanks. I... ” Linnea folded her hands between her knees. “Clara, could I talk to you?”

  “So tense. It must be something serious.”

  “It is. To me anyway.”

  Clara waited. Linnea shifted nervously. Shh-shh. Shh-shh.

  “You’re going to wear the varnish off the edge of that chair. Now what is it?”

  “Remember the night I got a little tipsy on aquavit?”

  Clara chuckled. “Of course. Some of your students haven’t quit talking about it yet.”

  “I suppose I made a fool of myself.”

  “No more than the rest of us.”

  “Maybe not while you were there, but later I did.”

  “Later?” Clara selected another egg from the basket. The sandpaper rasped rhythmically again.

  Linnea felt as if the egg were in her throat. Before she could lose her courage, she gulped and stated baldly, “I kissed Theodore.”

  The sanding block stopped in mid-air. “You kissed Theodore?” Clara’s eyes widened. “Our Theodore?”

  “Yes.”

  Clara leaned back and gave a full-throated whoop of laughter. “Oh, that’s wonderful.” She rested the hand holding the egg on top of her head. “What did he do?”

  “Kissed me back, then got mad at me.”

  “Why?”

  Linnea shrugged, joined her hands on the table, and fit her thumbnails together. Scowling at them, she answered, “He says I’m too young for him.”

  Clara began sanding again. “And what do you think?”

  “I guess I didn’t think. I just felt like doing it so I did.”

  Clara noted the younger woman’s frown. She couldn’t resist grinning. “So, how was it?”

  Linnea’s head came up. Their eyes met. Clara wasn’t upset! Her grin evaporated Linnea’s fears and left he
r feeling free to confide what she would.

  “Better than with Rusty Bonner, I can tell you that.”

  Again Clara acted surprised. “You kissed Rusty Bonner, too?!”

  “The night of the barn dance. But Theodore discovered us and got upset. That’s why Rusty disappeared so suddenly the next day. Theodore threw him off the place.”

  Clara fell back against her chair and gave up cleaning eggs. “Well, I’ll be.”

  “You aren’t mad? About me kissing Theodore, I mean?”

  “Mad?” Clara chuckled. “Why should I be mad? Teddy gets too broody. He needs somebody to liven him up a little bit, and I think you’re just the one who can do it.”

  Linnea hadn’t realized how concerned she’d been about what the family would think of her interest in Theodore until Clara accepted it so blithely.

  If only Theodore would accept it as blithely.

  He didn’t. He remained stubbornly aloof.

  Linnea and Clara visited again on a Sunday when the Linders dropped in for an afternoon visit. When they arrived, Linnea was in her frigid room correcting papers because Theodore was sitting downstairs at the kitchen table. A light tap sounded, then Clara’s head popped around the door.

  “Hi, am I disturbing you?”

  “No, I’m just correcting papers. Come in!”

  “Heavens, it’s cold up here.” She rubbed her arms as she entered.

  “Too cold for you?” Linnea glanced at Clara’s popping stomach. “I mean, is it all right if you stay a while?”

  Clara’s eyes followed Linnea’s. She fondled her belly and laughed. “Oh, heavens, yes, it’s all right.” Inquisitively, she prowled the edge of the room. “I haven’t been up here in years. Are you sure I’m not disturbing you?”

  Linnea set her work aside and tucked her stiff fingers between her knees. “Believe me, it’s a pleasure to be disturbed when you’re correcting papers.”

  Clara lifted the top paper, studied it absently, then set it back down. “You know, a lot of times I envy you, having the job you’ve got, being away from home and on your own.”

  “You envy me?”