Aife’s lips stretched into a smile. “You may.”
16
Should she go see Torsten this morning, Aife wondered? After so many days without him, she was dying to see him.
How would he be feeling today? Better, she hoped.
What if he was still unable to stand up? Then she would do her best not to cry.
Would he want to see her? She hoped so.
The questions came hard and fast in Aife’s mind, swirling as fast as the leaves twirling outside her hut, whipped up by the fierce autumn winds. The weather had turned in the last few days, just like her life had recently changed. Summer was definitely over.
After much soul-searching, she decided to chance it and go see Torsten. There was no other choice. If she didn’t, she would drive herself mad. She wrapped herself in her cloak and opened the door—only to find herself face-to-face with the very man she wanted to see.
Standing on his own two feet.
“Oh!” she hugged herself, sobbing, overcome by a wave of relief so powerful it robbed her of all her strength. “Oh, Torsten.”
Before she could fall to the floor, Torsten drew her against his chest with a powerful arm, holding her upright. She had the impression he would have preferred to sweep her into his arms but didn’t trust himself not to collapse under the extra weight. With reason. Only a few days ago, he’d been told he might never walk again. That he was here was miraculous enough. Risking injuring himself would be foolish. She clung tight to him, running her hands all over his back, assuring herself he was whole, relishing in his warmth and strength, his wonderful scent.
“You can walk. You can walk,” she repeated incessantly.
“Yes, I can walk,” he soothed. “I’ve been practicing on my own for days, aided by my brothers and then by wooden staffs, following Helga’s advice. And my first visit when I finally got out of the hut was for you.”
Aife drew away, surprised. Surely he should have gone to reassure his parents, his siblings, first? He looked at her with such an expression that once again, her heart wobbled, something it only did in his presence. It seemed unable to function properly when he was in front of her.
“You came to me. But…why?”
Had Wolf told him about the encounter in town with the Normans? He had not exactly promised he would not, and it had been obvious he’d not approved of keeping it a secret from his son. So was this why Torsten was here? To remonstrate with her about putting herself in danger? He didn’t look angry, but it was a possibility. She waited nervously for his answer.
“I came because I—” He stopped, as if thinking better of his first answer. Then he cleared his throat and started again. “I came because there is something I promised to give you days ago.”
“What is that?”
Instead of answering, he led her back inside the hut, a hand on the small of her back. After closing the door behind him, he unfastened the brooch holding his cloak closed, folded the garment, and placed it on the back of the only chair. Aife watched his every move as if she had never seen him before, as if no one had disposed of his cloak in her presence before.
Then, to her surprise, he reached out to unfasten her own cloak. It was removed without a word and placed on top of his. This would not be a brief visit then… He clearly meant to stay a while. Her heart leaped at the thought. She had missed him so much. Would that he stayed forever, here in her hut.
Finally, unable to wait another moment, she asked. “Why are you here, Torsten?”
“To give you this.”
He reached into the purse at his belt and extracted the most exquisitely crafted comb she had ever seen. The teeth were thin and regular, the antler shaft carved with swirls of leaves and berries that seemed ready to pop out. Of course, the comb. She had not forgotten his promise to give it to her, but she had not dared remind him of it when he’d lain in bed, waiting for his body to go back to normal.
“You remembered.”
“Of course. Here, it’s for you,” he said, placing it into her hand. It felt smooth and warm, the size perfect for her to hold. Aife stared at it, then at Torsten in disbelief.
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?” she asked, running a finger over the end of the teeth. It was so beautiful, he could have sold it for a good price or bartered it. Why was he giving it to her?
“I’m sure.” He smiled the smile she had come to adore. “I already have a comb, and I only have one head so a second one would be quite unnecessary. Besides, I can always make another one if need be.”
“Well, thank you. It was sorely needed. I’ve been using my mother’s since Edita left.” She ran a hand through her wild, tangled hair, feeling self-conscious. “As you can see, I haven’t had the time to go see her yet this morning. The wind when I went out to let the chickens out didn’t help.”
His smile widened but he didn’t comment. Perhaps she didn’t look as frightful as she feared. At least he didn’t seem to find her ridiculous. “Will you let me comb it for you now?”
Not waiting for her answer, he gestured that she should sit on the stool behind her. Unable to resist the temptation, Aife did as she was told. Her eyes fluttered closed as soon as Torsten lifted the heavy mass of her hair from her shoulders. This would be decadent, unlike anything else she had ever experienced, not so much an explosion of the senses, but rather a stroking of the soul. Carefully, he separated a long strand from the rest and began to comb, making sure to hold the hair near the scalp firmly until all the knots were loosened so as not to hurt her.
