Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I could hear Trude in the kitchen, humming a song to herself as she prepared another batch of rye bread, a recipe I had become so familiar with over the past year. She always made sure there was plenty to eat for everyone. Trude had become more than a mother-in-law to me; she was a second mother, a guiding light in the months after Erik’s recovery. Plus, she had taken to caring for Leif with such love and devotion that it made my heart swell. Though I was more than capable of looking after my boy myself, I found comfort in her presence. It felt like everything was right when she was near, the mother I deserved but never had.
The small cabin we called home was simple, but it was ours. The wooden walls were warm with the scent of fresh pine, and the low ceiling and the grass on the roof kept the warmth from the fire close. We had a small garden out back, where we grew root vegetables and herbs, and Erik was able to catch fish every day, occasionally heading into the mountains to hunt for elk. Our home was surrounded by towering mountains, their snow-capped peaks rising like silent guardians, and the fjord stretched out before us, its waters glistening in the light of the sun.
The villagers had accepted me, though I had once feared they wouldn’t. I was a foreigner, a woman who had lived a life so far removed from theirs. But they saw me as one of their own now, and it made my heart swell to be a part of something so strong and enduring. They treated me with kindness, and in return, I tried to do the same. When Leif was born, the women of the village had come to visit, bringing gifts and blessings for the child. They had showered us with warmth and good wishes, and I had never felt more at home.
And dear Knut wasn’t far—in fact, he was just down the lane. He had established a goat farm that had quickly become a source of pride for him. He had always been energetic, but now that he had his own piece of land, his work ethic had grown even stronger. He often stopped by to check on us, bringing fresh milk from his goats, and we would sit by the fire, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. Trude doted on him, plying him full of her pastries.
I smiled as I watched Erik bounce Leif on his knee, the sound of our son’s giggles filling the air. It was a sound I had come to treasure in these peaceful days. It was a sound that told me we had survived the worst of our pasts and built something beautiful from it.
Erik looked up at me, his face glowing with the same pride and love that had been there the first time he had held Leif. I had once feared the past would always haunt us, but the threat of Rolf, the pain of the battles we fought, all of it had been replaced by the joy of our family. Some days, what Erik called Odin’s ravens would circle our land, and I had to wonder whose souls they belonged to. Was it Rolf checking in on us, asking for forgiveness? Was it my sisters, sending me well wishes? Was it my father, giving his love?
Some days, the past never felt that far behind, and yet, I kept looking forward—and the future was so much brighter.