Chapter Fifteen
Bethany POV
I was not one that knew her way around the kitchen but here I was trying to make pancakes. Flour coated the kitchen countertop while I searched for the next ingredient. Did they not have pancake mix here? Dumping whatever I had into the trash, I grabbed my coat and scarf to walk down the street.
The crisp, chilly air filled my lungs as I stepped outside, and I could see my breath as it created a cloud around me.
Mornings in Chicago were nothing like walking the streets of Reykjavik at this hour.
The cold air invigorated my senses, making me feel alive and alert.
The silence of the early morning was peaceful with only a few other early risers or locals on their way to work.
The sound from the crunch of frost against the bottom of my shoe as I walked on the concrete sidewalk echoed down the block.
The beauty and the charm of the city created a feeling of tranquility and wonder, making each day feel like a blessing.
It was magical and I soaked up every second of it.
There was something about being in a different country where we could live our lives freely without disturbance or the burden of living up to certain expectations.
The colorful houses, with their corrugated metal roofs and vibrant facades, popped against the backdrop of the clear blue sky.
The sun had been rising earlier the last few days.
A gentle breeze hit my face that carried the salty scent of the nearby ocean, mingling with the fresh air.
The sounds of the city waking up—birds chirping, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional laughter of children heading to school—filled the air.
Unlike Chicago, where every turn was a building, my scene now was the stunning views of the surrounding mountains and the ocean.
I was unsure how long I would be here for but this would forever be a memorable experience.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted out from nearby cafes, beckoning me to indulge but my heart was set on one particular bakery.
As I approached the brightly decorated building, I entered and inhaled the sweet smells of pastry goodness.
Back home I rarely indulged, but I could eat everything here in one sitting.
The person in front of me asked the girl over the counter, “What’s fresh?” I could tell they were from out of town given they didn’t have an Icelandic accent.
The girl smiled, “We just got a fresh batch of vanilla buns out of the oven.”
“That sounds delicious. I’ll take one of those. Anything I should try? It’s my first time in Iceland.”
“If you want to be really Icelandic, a blueberry and licorice bun.”
I laughed to myself watching the person scrunch their face.
“Hjónabandssaelais really good,” I suggested attempting my best to say it correctly. “It’s basically oats filled with jam. Or Ponnukokur.” I pointed to it for reference after butchering the name. “It’s almost like a crepe.”
“Thank you,” the person smiled, “I’ll take what she suggested.”
“Ah! I thought it was Sunday for a moment,” the owner came out of the back with a smile as he placed a fresh tray on the rack.
“It’s a special day today,” I smiled from ear to ear.
“I created a new coffee flavor to try. It’s a twist on ávaxtafrappó but hot! You must try it. Go have a seat and I’ll bring it to you with the rest of your order.”
“Thank you,” I laughed unsure exactly what that meant. ávaxtafrappó is a fruit Frappuccinoif I wasn’t mistaken.
It was nice having people treat you with kindness when they didn’t know who you were.
It was always hard to tell when someone was being genuine.
The café hummed with the soft chatter of early morning patrons, the air thick with the rich aroma of fresh pastries.
Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the wooden tables and illuminating the faces of those gathered.
I sat at a small table in the corner waiting for my coffee.
“Enjoy!”
The girl startled me. I may not be in immediate danger but I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
I forgot I go by Freya now. Something I still needed to get used to. “I was just lost in thought. Thank you.”
Taking a sip, the perfectly temperate coffee coated my mouth filling it with flavors of berries which only got better as it went down my throat.
Looking at my watch, I knew I had some time to spare.
Emilio said he would be gone for about an hour.
My fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the coffee cup and watching the steam rise as my mind drifted to my family back home.
As much as I was enjoying this bit of freedom, I missed everyone terribly – even Luca.
My mind began to wonder if I missed my brother because Emilio was still alive.
Did my relationship with Luca really depend on Emilio’s life?
Would anything have changed between us if I knew Emilio was still alive?
The sound of the door chiming caught my attention causing me to look up and watch a woman walk in, cheeks flushed from the cold outside.
We make eye contact and she nodded her head to me.
Did I know her or was I just being paranoid?
Everyone here was so nice it made me feel out of touch with reality.
Out of politeness, I nodded in return. Unable to take my eyes off of her, she looked like a Viking goddess.
Her long hair braided and left over her shoulder to cascade down to her hip.
Wearing a brown leather trench coat with sheep fur lining and boots, she was clearly a local.
After placing an order at the counter, she made her way toward me.
“Mind if I sit?” She asked me.
Without giving an answer, the woman plopped herself onto the chair. She didn’t even bother removing her jacket.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
“No,” she smiled. “I’ve noticed you frequent this bakery. Are you on holiday?”
“Just moved here,” I smiled. “I’m Freya”
I watched her extend her arm to shake my hand while carrying a sly smile, “I’m Athena.”