Chapter 5
Ama inhaled deeply, letting the scent of freshly mown grass and spring flowers fill her lungs. The aroma of meat on the grill tickled her nose and teased her tongue, while the sound of laughter danced in her ears. A cookout at the Drekisons, and she stood outside of it all, like she did most everything in life.
The difference was that she’d actually been invited to the Drekison’s cookout. As in, intentionally invited. Not just included in a sweeping, generalize “you’re all invited” kind of invited or the inadvertent “oh, I didn’t think you’d actually come” kind of invited. Eydís had specifically approached Ama last night at the bar and invited her to the cookout. Had invited her, and no one else.
Oh god, what if she’d messed up the dates and the invite was for next Saturday?
Her heart dropped to her toes at the same time her hand buzzed. A text on her phone. A text from Eydís, who’d insisted they exchange numbers last night at the bar like they were friends.
Hope you didn’t get the dates confused. Are you coming tonight?
Was she? She only needed to walk up the steps to the Drekison’s back deck to be part of the cookout. Yet still, she hesitated.
From the volume of voices and laughter she heard, there were enough people to engage her social paralysis, her foot-in-mouth disease, and her whack-a-mole comment reaction. They’d all give her funny looks, regret inviting her, and count the minutes until she left.
But she’d get to spend time with Arkyn. And that outweighed all the bad.
But… did he want to spent time with her? She’d sensed the interest all her friends the ladies at the bar last night had in him. Their gazes had caressed him and glared at her, their sexual interest obvious. Yet he hadn’t acted on any of it. Instead, allowing Ama to dominate his time and attention. Which she hadn’t meant to do, but he’d had kitten pics. And he was such a nice guy, he hadn’t complained.
Thor-level good looks and the patience to put up with her? She could very well fall in love with him. She was already in love with his cat. But being the object of her love was a fate no man needed to suffer. So, as much as she wanted to see him again and spend time surrounded by his composed, confident presence because it was more effective at calming the calamity of her soul than any medications she’d ever taken?—
When was the last time she’d been to yoga? Those had been fun classes, even if the music was impossible to dance to. Ama looked down at her outfit. She wasn’t even wearing yoga pants. How could she manage a downward-facing-dog pose in this sundress?—
Her phone buzzed. A text from Arkyn. Huh… wonder what he wants.
Stop standing in the driveway and come on up.
Ama blinked and glanced around. She stood in front of the Drekison’s cozy bi-level house, a bag of chips in her hand, the sounds of friendly conversation emanating from the back deck, enticing her to come be a part of it all. It was like standing in front of the entrance to Candyland, and she giggled as she jogged up the side stairs toward the back of the house.
When she reached the top, she paused for a breathless moment, like waiting for the universe to catch up. The scene before her was simultaneously a nightmare and a dream come true. Several adults stood on the spacious back deck, cooking and talking and arranging food around a table big enough to seat an army, while several other adults played cornhole in the back yard or lounged in Adirondack chairs and cheered on the cornhole game.
And there were dogs. So many dogs romping around the yard, chasing each other or looking for the next available person to offer pets. Her heart bounced and clapped at the thought of all those slobbery kisses and soft fur and happy yaps. Her fingers itched and she giggled, her legs eager to run to the small pack play-growling and wrestling.
A wet tongue swiped her cheeks. Ama blinked and unwound her arm from around an elderly golden retriever, its muzzle and the fur around the eyes white against the rest of his dark blonde coloring. She sat on the steps between the deck and the back yard, the tail-wagging gentleman leaning between her legs. In some blank blink of a moment she couldn’t account for, she’d bypassed human interaction and had gone straight for the puppers. While this loss of time and movement hadn’t happened in a while, it was a more common occurrence than it should be. As if her lizard brain couldn’t handle the complex process of accounting for her actions, so simply blacked it out.
She glanced around, hoping no one had witnessed her breach of etiquette or questioned why she went straight for a dog instead of a human. Heavens, what would come out of her mouth as an explanation?
“Ama!” Arkyn’s voice called to her over the din of self-consciousness in her head. He didn’t seem to have noticed her weird entrance. “Come take over for Ty. He sucks at this game.”
“I don’t suck, Fífl.” A slightly shorter Thor growled from the other end of the cornhole playing field. “I’m using something called strategy.”
“So, your strategy is to lose?” The brown-haired man from the bar last night jeered from where he sat in one of the chairs, beer in one hand and Lucia on his lap.
Short Thor grumbled. “Yeah, no… I just haven’t worked out all the kinks.”
“Hi, you must be Ama.” A woman’s voice pulled her attention from the scene between the Thors.
Ama stood, brushing the dog slobber off her cheek with the sleeve of her cardigan, and turned to the older woman who looked like the man holding Lucia, except her chocolate brown wavy hair was streaked with silver. “Oh, your hair is like a meteor shower!” Ama’s voice was breathless with awe.
The woman patted her hair and laughed. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever described all my gray hair, dear.” Then she motioned to the bag of chips Ama gripped in her fist. “Are those to share?”
Ama looked at the bag, her heart sinking. She hadn’t thought to bring any food to contribute, but had grabbed the half-eaten bag on a whim. “I… um… was afraid I’d get hungry.”
Her gut clenched as the admission left her mouth. She’d come to a cookout… afraid she wouldn’t have a chance to eat… and had brought a crumpled bag of chips as a contingency plan. No wonder people avoided her. She made no sense, even to herself.
A warm arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her onto the deck, toward the table where she could relinquish the bag. A soft chuckle in her ear. “I’m a mother of four powerful men, dear. I dare you to leave our table hungry.”
Then the older woman made introductions around the deck, pointing to each individual as she named them. “I’m Fro?ja, and this is my husband, Jo?lnir.” Jo?lnir looked like an older, grayer, more majestic version of Arkyn. If Arkyn reminded her of Thor, this man must be Odin. But with both eyes. Fro?ja motioned to another older couple. “This is Jo?lnir’s brother, Bodil, and his wife, Steph.”
“Arkyn, Ulrik, Ivar, and Ty are our boys.” Fro?ja continued. “Eydís, Lucia, and Lin are engaged to our three youngest.”
“Oh! Is Arkyn’s fiancée not coming?” Ama’s heart went out to him. How busy the woman must be if she couldn’t spare her Saturday night to be with him.
Jo?lnir pursed his lips in the universal signal of someone trying not to laugh. Ama recognized the look, even though few people bothered to swallow their humor around her, especially when she was the one who’d said something they deemed stupid. But when Jo?lnir shook her hand, his expression grew soft and fatherly. “It’s an inside joke, but Arkyn would claim to be presently unaffiliated.”
“I’m a free agent.” Arkyn’s voice was muffled, as if he spoke from a great distance or through some sort of wall. But he was right over there.
Weird. And she would know, she was the poster child for weird. Wait—Oh! Now his comment made sense. “You mean like hockey!” Ama heaved a relieved sigh. “Well, I’m confident Arkyn will figure out which team he’s on.”
Taunting laughter rose from the cornhole area, sounding further away than they actually were. A man’s voice she recognized as another brother from last night called out from behind that same wall. “Hey Arkyn, be sure to let us know when you finally figure out what team you’re on.”
“Cornhole seems pretty competitive with your family.” Ama glanced around, not sure what to do or say. Fortunately, no one was looking at her with the typical expression of boredom or irritation.
The woman called Steph grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the short set of steps leading to the back yard. While Fro?ja was statuesque like a modern-day Ingrid Bergman, Steph was beautiful in a feisty girl-next door kind of way.
“Ama, these are my kiddos. Anders and Fredrik are finishing their studies at the U next year. Hailee and her husband Henry have our first grandbaby, who just turned three months.”
“Mom, we’re very familiar with Miss Ama.” A woman’s voice jerked Ama’s attention to one of the Adirondack chairs. A younger version of Steph stood up, cradling a bundle in her arms. A man looking a bit like a tall, redheaded Keebler elf supported her with a hand at her back, and they both turned to her. “She’s Teddy’s daycare lady.”
“Teddy!” Ama squealed as soon as she saw the cherubic little freckled face tucked in a firetruck blanket. The shock of red hair aside, she’d recognize his bubbly smile anywhere. He’d just learned to laugh and gurgle, and they’d spent hours chatting about life.
Teddy squealed in return when he spotted her, his legs kicking and his arms pumping with excitement. She plucked him up and curled him into her arms, blowing raspberries and gurgling back at him as was their customary conversation. He told her all about his breakfast and how he was in his favorite dinosaur onesie. And how he wanted to play with the dogs, but Mom wouldn’t let him. Ama responded that the dogs were more interested in sticks, but maybe he could talk his way into a game of cornhole?—
A man’s voice interrupted her conversation with Teddy. She pulled her attention away from the drooling, cooing baby in her arms. The Keebler elf was talking to her. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“I was saying you’re our guest. Please don’t feel obligated to take care of Teddy.”
She looked from the Keebler elf to the mom and finally to Steph. Had she overstepped some boundary? During the week, parents dropped off their babies and she took care of them until it was time to hand them back to their parents in the evening. No one had given her rules or guidelines for what to do on the weekend when around parents and babies.
“I-I don’t mind.” Handing Teddy back to his mom, she wound her hands in the fabric of her skirt. “Teddy and I are good friends.”
“Of course you are.” Steph chuckled. Ama braced herself for the customary because you have so much in common with a baby joke her coworkers often made. The comment always made people laugh, but Ama wasn’t certain it was a compliment. Steph patted her shoulder. “Interesting people always find each other.”
Ama looked at the older woman, warmth prickling in the corner of her eyes. Ama had been here nearly five minutes and no one yet had reacted to her the way most people did. “Teddy was right. You all are so nice.”
“Being nice is easy.” Steph nodded, a warm squeeze of Ama’s shoulder. “Especially when it’s someone who deserves it.”
A German shepherd and a hound mix loped past, threaded between the adult legs, and wrapped around Ama in a barking, snuffling, tongue-lolling undertow that swept her toward the cornhole field. She twisted and turned to avoid stepping on paws or bumping noses, but still lost her balance. As she listed to the side, a pair of strong hands banded her waist and pulled her against a solid wall of warmth.
Arkyn. Minus the lavender and apple martini perfume, but also without the vanilla or sandalwood she would have expected. Instead, he was crisp autumn campfire and spring rains on new grass. And something else. Something— She turned around and buried her nose against his neck, breathing him. Winter sledding and… Summer lake cruising in a pontoon boat.
Ama pulled back to look him in the eyes, her face warm like she’d run. “You… you smell like all the seasons.” He smelled like a childhood she’d never had. She’d grown up in a large, loud city; she didn’t know what those things actually smelled like. But one whiff and a halcyon childhood filled with family and acceptance and contentment settled in the depths of her soul. Like a brace, a foundation, rooting her in the firm stability of the planet. Trussing her so she could never float away. Goosebumps prickled her skin at that promise. “You smell like Earth.”
He frowned. “I promise I bathed today.”
“Of course you did. It’s why you smell so good.” She murmured against his clavicle. With each inhale, her being was further cemented to solid ground, to this man who lent her brain a stability so rare she couldn’t remember when she’d last experienced it.
Her world was an old-school playground, rife with teeter-totters that rose in the air like artillery guns, ski-jump ramps disguised as innocent slides, and metals merry-go-rounds spinning so fast they threatened to fling her across the park or make her dizzy forever. A dangerous, breathtaking, frenetic funhouse with manic blinking lights, promising excitement or injury… or both. And she was stuck there.
Except when she was around Arkyn.
His presence calmed the frenzied pace of her psyche. Halted the tilting, whirling, tumbling pathways of her brain so that it ambled as if through peaceful pastures instead. All the extra tension and input and static-y interference fell away, like shedding restrictive, unwanted clothing, leaving her at peace with the universe.
His presence set her at ease where most others added to the noise and chaos. He grounded her. Grounded her so she no longer feared floating away.
Ama’s fingers clutched at his soft, cotton shirt and she breathed him in again, more visions of a happy childhood danced through her head. They certainly weren’t hers; they must be his.
She signed with utter contentment. “You have such wonderful memories, Arkyn.”