Sons of Thunder by Susan May Warren

Author:Susan May Warren
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781935416678
Publisher: Guideposts
Published: 2012-02-05T02:30:24+00:00

CHAPTER 16

After the past decade of slogging through crusty snow, thawing out his wool socks over the radiator in his room, and ducking his head against the cruel wind slithering down the frozen Mississippi, living in Minneapolis had taught Dino to appreciate spring. With pink buds on the maples and white flowers dotting the mountain ash around the university campus, the hint of life stirred the air.

And with it, Dino’s spirit. Something had blossomed inside him since that night with Sofia—although he’d resisted the lure of her arms. He couldn’t bear to face himself in the mirror until he convinced Sofia to marry him.

She would—he knew it. It would just take more time.

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he walked home from the trolley, the sun lazy as it fell into the horizon. Maybe this buoyant feeling came from freedom—Reg had taken his tyranny on leave for the past month. And with Sofia now living at his boardinghouse, Dino didn’t have to pry himself from the grip of the hospital every night to know she was safe. With his first-year intern test behind him, two more years of residency in front of him, he could taste his future, like the breath of summer, just out of his reach.

He’d be very proud of you. Maybe. The thought swept him back to languid days on their fishing boat.

He’d spent more time in memory these days, his toe trailing in the tepid waters, watching Markos throw out the nets. Markos always looked seventeen, bronzed, strong, confidence in his dark blue eyes.

The Markos Dino saw in Sofia’s eyes, probably. Dino tried not to read into her smile, believe himself a replacement.

Besides, Markos didn’t teach her to dance or propose to her on a nightly basis over the past month.

One of these times, she might not laugh, might not wrinkle her nose at him, might not disentangle herself from his arms and bid him good night.

Maybe even tonight.

He climbed the stairs to the boardinghouse, the front porch cleared of snow after the last storm—March, in like a lion. The fragrance of Sofia’s bread—he could nearly taste the cinnamon—beckoned him inside as he hung his coat on the tree by the door, toed off his goulashes.

One of the boarders sat at the piano, clunking out “Clare du Lune.” Elsie plowed out between the swinging doors to the kitchen, holding a milk glass dish piled high with creamed corn. “Just in time, Danny. The kuchen is nearly out of the oven.” She glanced back over her shoulder, said something in German. Over the last month, Sofia had received a crash course in “Elsie.”

Sofia glanced up at him from where she stood at the sink, draining a pot of potatoes. Steam billowed up as she turned her face away. Still, it slicked sweat across her brow where she’d pulled her hair back into a black scarf.

For a second, he was back in Zante, in his mother’s kitchen. Only this time, the boulder that normally lodged in his throat spread out in a warmth through his chest, seeping into his bones.

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