Page 6 of The Source of Storms

“Me neither. Let’s not do it anymore,” I said, playful yet definitive.

“We should be together always,” he agreed. “Like a family. Because you are my family, Halja.”

I might have glowed golden in the dark interior of the barn.

He stepped back, tugging my hands to follow him, and led me up the ladder to the loft of the barn. He spread a big blanket over the straw and wrapped me in another. The snow fell much faster now, and the world outside was turning white.

“It’s cold,” I mumbled as I removed my cloak.

“Come here, let me warm you up. Take this off too. What? It’s easier to warm you up without your clothes in the way.”

I laughed, and we fell into each other in the fading light of the autumn night.

∞∞∞

I awoke in the dark, blinking in confusion, slow to realize where I was.

“Shit! Shit! Oh no, I’m late!”

Sigurd bolted up beside me. “What?” he slurred groggily.

“I was supposed to be home before dark and it’s way past that now and I have to go,” I rambled as I hastily tugged on my clothes.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said.

“I know, me neither, I have to go!” I knelt, brushed his soft blond locks from his forehead, kissed him quickly, and rushed down the ladder.

All the sadness I felt at leaving him again was overwhelmed by fear and anxiety. I rode out into the night as the snow fell. The clouds were thick and heavy above, blotting out any moonlight that would find its way to the earth.

The steading was all dark as I approached, all quiet. No lamps had been left burning for me, nobody had waited up to scold me. I yanked the tack off the horse and left him in the stable, then crept into the house. Old boards creaked beneath my feet, but nobody stirred as I slipped into my room and under the blankets.

One of our cats, a soft brown tabby, jumped onto the bed and settled in the hollow behind my bent knees, the designated place for cats for as long as they’d been sharing beds with humans. I laid awake for a while, unable to quell the anxiety twisting my stomach, the guilt wracking my body. I would face the wrath of my father in the morning.

∞∞∞

Face his wrath I did.

My father was seated at the table in the kitchen when I finally brewed the courage to venture out from my room. He did not look up as I entered.

“Sit down, Halja,” he ordered.

I sat.

“What time did you get home last night?” he said with deceptive calm.

“I, uh, I don’t really know,” I answered.

“After I went to bed,” he said. “I waited up for you. It was after dark.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“I was worried sick about you, Halja. I had no idea where you’d gone, if you were even alive! I didn’t even know where tobeginto look!”

My mother entered the kitchen and stood with her arms crossed tightly, making herself small, little more than a shadow against the wall. She said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to be so late, I fell asleep,” I said, and regretted it immediately.

“You fell asleep? You fell asleep! Where could you possibly have fallen asleep? It was snowing!”

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