Page 38 of Pucking Strong

“I will,” he assures her.

She steps back, hands on her hips. “Well then, I suppose you’ll have your reasons for rushing into this marriage. But you’ll be good to him, won’t you?”

“I’ll certainly try.”

She nods. “Yes, I can see it. You’re an old soul, like my Gunnar. Henrik picked well.”

Teddy’s brown skin is so fair, I can see that he’s blushing. I step in behind Mom, placing a hand on her shoulder. Once she starts inon someone, it can be difficult to pry her away. But I will if it means Teddy is spared any embarrassment.

She pats my hand, her gaze still locked on Teddy. “Karlssons only marry once, you know.”

Teddy stiffens, glancing over her head at me. “Is that right?”

“Why do you think my Petra never married that wastrel of a boy who was always sniffing around the garden shed? A Karlsson may be picky, but we always pick well. You’ll be happy together.”

I clear my throat. “Shall we go have some coffee?”

She brushes my hand away, reaching for Teddy instead. “Get the coffee yourself. Theodore and I have work to do.” Weaving her fingers in with his, she leads him towards the house. “Have you ever made kanelbulle?”

“Kanen—what?” He glances over his shoulder at me.

“It’s Henrik’s favorite,” she goes on. “His husband has to know how to make kanelbulle the Karlsson way. Come, I’ll teach you.”

“Mom, we can’t stay long,” I call out in Swedish.

I go to follow them, but Dad stops me. “Let them go,” he says softly, his hand on my arm.

“If she gets him in the kitchen, I’ll never get him out—”

“Please.”

At his tone, I pause, glancing over my shoulder.

His pale blue eyes are somber as he watches them walk away together. “Let her have this.”

“Have what?”

“A child was taken from her. Now a new child is given. Let her bond with him awhile. You and I will go lay your sister to rest.”

Afew hours later, I return to the house to the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Mom and Teddy sit at the kitchen table, laughing and talking together like old friends. Her hands work mechanically, cutting up chunks of potato, dropping them into a pot. Teddy moves a little slower, peeling a carrot with careful strokes.

“Hey,” he calls out, pointing to the plate of spiced cinnamon rolls sprinkled with pärlsocker. “Look, we made kanenbulla.”

“Kanelbulle,” Mom corrects. “Your Theodore is a quick student,” she adds at me.

“Well, I had a good teacher,” he says, charming her with a smile.

I move around the table to kiss the top of her head. “Mom, Teddy is our guest. We can’t have him peeling the vegetables.”

She huffs. “I suppose you think dinner will just make itself then.”

Teddy grins. “Really, I don’t mind, Mrs. Karlsson. In my family’s kitchen, this is all I’m usually allowed to do. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. Look.” He points to the bowl of peeled and chopped carrots.

“Theodore said you’re not staying for dinner,” she calls in Swedish as I cross over to the sink to wash my hands.

I sigh, turning on the tap. “We have to return to the city, remember? We have to get back to Karolina.”

She just huffs again. “Petra can watch her own daughter for one night, Henrik. Your place is here with us. I’ve already made the lamb meatballs. They’re in the oven.”

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