Daughters of Northern Shores by Joanne Bischof

Author:Joanne Bischof
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2019-01-23T05:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

A TENDERNESS THROBBED LOW IN HER BELLY as Aven opened her linen fan to stir the air. Beside her on the pew, Fay reached around both sons and closed the finished hymnal. The shift offset Bjørn’s balance, and he squirmed as if this were his chance to escape his mother’s arms and perhaps the crowded church altogether. Across the way, Jorgan and Peter sat in the men’s section, which spanned two sides of the room, same as the women’s—each group joining to form a hollow square in the center. How Aven longed to look across the way and see her husband sitting there. She prayed the day would come. And soon.

When Bjørn fussed, Sigurd leaned over and whispered. “Stop wiggling, ciderkin.” From his pocket, he pulled out a tiny carving of a Viking ship. Its sides and dragon headpiece had been knifed with such detail it might have been found among the ancient ruins of Norway. One of the many wooden toys Jorgan had fashioned for his sons.

As Bjørn turned the vessel in his pudgy fingers, Sigurd patted the top of his head. “Dat’s a good wittle swash-buckwer.”

Aven and Fay exchanged smiles. Across from them, Peter looked amused. He straightened his posture, and there seemed to be a lightening in him. The poor man carried a burden with his menfolk’s return, standing—in truth—between two different worlds. One of blood and one of belief.

’Twas hard to recall that there had been a time that Peter’s presence filled her with fear. It seemed a million nights ago that he’d smashed his way into the Norgaard house, clad in a white robe and hood alongside his male kin, who had shattered windows and torched the wood crib to ashes. Peter had stood mere feet from Aven as well as Cora’s daughters—Tess and little Georgie—observing them through his slitted hood. An ominous foreboding far from the peace his presence brought now. He was a good man, Aven had since learned, and one who wanted nothing to do with his grandfather’s way of life. Instead, Peter showed a tenderness of soul and, if she wasn’t mistaken, had a protective way about Cora and her daughters. In particular Tess, with her sunny smile and fawn-wide eyes. A young woman he always seemed to watch as if waiting for her to need him.

The reverend rose to stand in the center of the square, opened a dense Bible, and began a reading in the fifteenth chapter of Luke. Uncomfortable, Aven shifted on the bench. A low pain in her womb slipped in and out of her awareness like an hourly sigh. Nay, now that she was thinking upon it, the tightness came much more often this morning.

To keep distracted, Aven took careful notes of the sermon, something she always did for Thor—a way to recall the teachings to him afterwards. So little could he see of the reverend’s speech as the clergyman addressed each side of the room that Thor missed much of the sermon. Yet he always sat here, somber and reverent, as if the sheer notion of being in God’s house was solace enough.

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