22 #2
‘If you keep feeding the fire, you’ll turn the room into a sauna.
’ Anders steps closer to the man of the hour, giving him a rough but genial pat on the back.
‘Stop brooding, will you? The girl doesn’t know her way around here yet.
And if I recall correctly, I’ve had to come up here more than once because of a burst pipe. ’
A twitch at Elias’ mouth. Not really a smile, but close.
If only poor Anders knew what was really brewing behind his friend Jakob’s eyes.
‘Communication is important in a relationship. Take it from a man married for forty years and counting,’ Anders continues as he lowers himself carefully into a creaking chair, his voice adopting the calm authority of a man who has survived both blizzards – and women.
I set the bottle on the table, moving to the cabinet to get the tumblers, while the chickens rustle softly around my feet.
‘If you’re having trouble resolving things now,’ Anders puts in as I pluck the first tumbler, ‘then when you get married, it’ll only get worse.’
The glass slips from my hand and hits the floor, shattering.
Feathers explode as the chickens take off in all directions, squawking indignantly down the corridor.
But I can’t hear any of it save for the only word that matters: married.
‘Shit—’ Elias is already moving.
He grabs the broom and starts sweeping deftly around my feet, his large body crowding close as I step back.
‘You told him we’re getting married?’ I manage in a low whisper.
His jaw tightens, his face drops into shadow. He doesn’t reply.
It would sting less if he hit me. Every word from Anders pushes Elias’ lies a little deeper into my marrow.
The bearded man chuckles from behind him. ‘He said he had a girl here. And I might be stacking years, but I’m not senile. A woman doesn’t move this far north where the land is frozen nine months of the year for nothing.’
I clench my teeth. Busy myself with picking up the straggling shards from the floor and throwing them into the bin.
Elias’ motions falter for a split second as he tips the dustpan into the bin beneath the counter. The pieces crash against the bottom a little louder than expected.
Anders shifts on the chair. ‘There’s that, and there’s the fancy ring on your finger.’
The moment the words leave Anders’ mouth, Elias jerks upright so fast he clips his head against the cupboard corner.
Both the white-haired man and I flinch at the sound.
I cover the ring with my other hand as if that might somehow soothe the situation.
Anders simply grins, entirely unbothered. ‘Easy now, Jakob. At this rate, you should pack a hospital bag.’
That piques my interest. ‘What do you mean?’
Anders shakes his head, eyes gleaming. ‘There’s a pack of wolves prowling around. When he saw you were gone, he thought they might’ve eaten you. I’ve never seen a man that size move so fast – and fall so hard on the ice. I thought he’d cracked the fjord.’
‘You’re exaggerating,’ Elias murmurs, a flush rising from beneath the collar of his navy jumper.
I lower my gaze, taking him in from head to toe until my gaze snags on his ribs where his hand pressed earlier.
So he did hurt himself.
Swiftly averting my attention towards the cockerel, I school my expression. I can’t give him anything.
My hands shake slightly as I cross the space to the table and pour the liquor into the remaining tumblers.
I hate lying. I hate pretending.
Anders is right there. Close enough that I could say it quietly. A few words would do it: he kidnapped me.
My lips part. Then my gaze collides with Elias’ across the room, and they close again.
Giving Anders a solemn glance instead, I exhale with effort as a loaded silence settles over the room.
Reaching for the crystal, I will my hand to steady. And I down its contents in one go.
It scorches its way down my throat like it came straight out of a pump at a petrol station.
A cough tears through me. I nearly double over. I’m not entirely certain I haven’t spluttered up a piece of my lung. Or the whole thing.
Anders is on his feet at once, hand patting my back with loud, merry thumps as his laughter rolls out full-bodied and relentless.
‘Welcome to the north, Leah!’ he crows between chuckles. ‘Where liquor hits hard, but love hits harder!’
Elias manifests beside me like a spectre, takes the tumbler from my hands and pours himself a shot into the same glass. He doesn’t spare me a single glance as he downs the poison without flinching as if it were water.
Anders doesn’t seem to notice that Elias has completely ignored the second tumbler I’d set out for him. Then again, the gentleman has no idea about the one-glass rule. I’m suddenly painfully aware of it.
My ears start burning.
For the rest of the evening, I get nothing from Elias. Not a glance my way, not a word attached to my name.
The conversation moves on to ice-fishing and when the first real blizzards might seal the road.
Real blizzards?
My toes curl at the thought of the one from yesterday. I can’t imagine something worse than that.
Anders mentions snow fences, dead batteries and which cousin lost half a shed roof last November. He speaks of it all with cheerful resignation.
Outside, dusk presses early in shades of blue and black, though the month has barely begun.