She ran her fingers over the giant apple ice cubes in flattened Ziploc bags, closing her eyes and letting the colors emerge—green, periwinkle, sunshine yellow, and a sunset orange. Like the sound of a puzzle piece snapping into place, she knew she had found what was missing. She pulled a bag and set it in the sunlight streaming through the broken window. She didn’t need all of it right now, just enough to confirm she was on the right path. While she waited for it to thaw, she flipped open her journal and wrote down the measurements she had established, then pulled out her colored pencils to create the shade emblazoned on her mind. The color spoke of vitality, passion, and strength.
Isaac, she wrote absentmindedly next to the drawing.
Startled at what she’d done, Sanna threw the pencil across the room. One day with him, and he’d already wormed his way under her skin. She didn’t want him—or any man—around to complicate her life. All she wanted was to run the orchard and make cider. Her life was uncomplicated, and she preferred it that way: trees, apples, cider. Unfussy. Hardworking. Simple.
“You want to talk about it?” Sanna jumped as her dad’s face appeared in the window as he balanced on a ladder to reach the second-story panes.
“No, Pa. I don’t.”
He studied her through the broken glass, outlined by the sunny morning behind him.
“It’s been too long since you had new people in your life. You closet yourself in this barn too much.”
“I go out with Thad.” She picked at the corner of her journal, folding and unfolding it.
“Don’t make me laugh. I don’t know why you waste your time. He only wants our land and you very well know it. Plus Mrs. Rundstrom is a nightmare.”
Sanna gave a little smile. He wasn’t wrong about Mrs. Rundstrom—that woman once complained to a room full of mourners about the poor caliber of casseroles at a post-funeral luncheon, then filled large plastic containers with them, which she shoved into her purse. Last year, Sheriff Dibble found her loading her truck with wood from trees cut down in the state park even though she knew they sold that wood to campers for firewood. Sanna knew for a fact—from Thad Rundstrom, her son—that all of the perennials in her garden, including a rare pink peony, were dug up from various yards and parks around town in the dead of night.
And she didn’t really know why she wasted time with Thad, either. He’d become a convenient habit. They had dated during college, but had settled into a friendship when they graduated. Early on, he’d tried to rekindle their romance, but she had no interest. They would see movies, grab dinner, and talk orchards every couple of weeks. She’d assumed he’d eventually find someone new and that would be the end of that, but in the meantime, he was decent company. They each knew where they stood with the other. No expectations, just company. It was simple.
“Why don’t you wait for Isaac to help you with that?” she said. “You did hire him to help you around here.” She looked down at the drop, and it was higher than she thought. He scowled at her.
“I’ve been fixing things around here for years without someone watching my back.” He tugged at the windowpane to loosen it, needing to get it out to replace the broken glass.
“You just told me you were getting too old to do everything.” He kept working and ignored her worry. Sanna picked up the Ziploc of melting cider and turned back to her blending, already drifting off toward that rosy pink she was so drawn to today. If she hurried, she could have it blended before Isaac and Bass arrived. “Fine. If you fall, I won’t visit you in the hospital.”
“Ow, dammit.” Her father’s curse broke her concentration, and she was about to scold him for handling broken glass without gloves. At his age, he should know better. But a screech of wood ripped her back to the present. She turned in time to see her dad’s arms flailing backward, the ladder sliding off to the left and falling with a clatter so loud it almost muffled the sound of Einars hitting the ground and another awful noise she didn’t want to dwell on. Her stomach jolted even harder. The silence after the fall pushed her into action, and she dashed out the barn’s side door, down the grassy slope, and around the corner of the building, unable to move fast enough, the air turning to molasses she had to power through. Incapable of looking at her father yet, her eyes moved instead to Isaac tearing out of the trees at a dead sprint straight to where her father lay.
Isaac didn’t even glance at Sanna but knelt beside Einars. She finally looked at her dad. His right side had taken the brunt of the fall. His forehead already bled from where it had smacked the gravelly ground, his wrist flopped at an odd angle, but the worst was his leg. As he had fallen, it had gotten trapped in between ladder rungs. Bile rose up her throat at the sight of blood soaking his jeans, which folded as if they were draped across the end of a bed, perfectly normal except there was a leg still inside. At least he seemed to have passed out from the pain, or was he . . . ?
Sanna finally knelt on the side of her dad opposite Isaac and their eyes met.
“Is he?”
“He’s breathing.” He pointed to the shallow rise and fall of Einars’s chest. “Do you have a phone on you?”
Sanna shook her head no.
“Get mine. Back pocket. Right side.” Sanna stood to move around to Isaac’s rear when Bass appeared, his shorter legs not able to move as fast as his father’s longer ones. It had been moments since her father had tumbled to the ground, but it already stretched into hours of torment. She couldn’t react fast enough. Bass grabbed the phone from his dad’s pocket and did as his father instructed, but Sanna couldn’t make sense of anything. All that registered was her strong, always-there father not moving, barely breathing, broken on the ground.
Bass held the phone up to Isaac, who nodded as he listened to the calm voice on the other end. He stripped off his long-sleeve plaid shirt and tore it in two, using one-half and a thick stick to tie a tourniquet on Einars’s leg in confident, quick motions. Blood already smeared his hands and jeans.
A tiny part of her acknowledged that his steadfastness soothed her, the part that wasn’t shutting down from panic.
She’d never seen her father so pale—his skin had always had a faint pink to it, unable to contain the vitality flowing through his veins. Or so still. A tree always needed trimming, grass mowing, or a windowsill painting. Even at night, he made dinner, dusted knickknacks, straightened pictures. He was a perpetual motion machine when his eyes were open, grace in his long-limbed movements—always strong and capable.
“Sanna, here.” Isaac held a folded square of plaid out to her, interrupting her thoughts. “Press this to the cut on his forehead.” Detached, she watched her hand grab it and her knees bend—then she didn’t know what else to do. Isaac wrapped one of his hands around hers—his long fingers gentle and firm at once while leaving smears of her father’s blood on her own pale skin, guiding her to the spot where it trickled down his temple. “Be firm, with the palm of your hand.”
He opened her palm one finger at a time, then pressed it to the wound—his hand covering hers. He was so confident, surely this would all be okay. She could do this. Focus on the task at hand.
“Keep it there.”
As soon as his hand left hers, her certainty fled with it. She started to rock back on her heels.
“Sanna.” More than anything, Isaac’s gentle tone pulled her back. She nodded and pressed, only worrying about her part as Isaac barked orders to Bass. In minutes, the sirens of the Door County EMTs pulled into their drive, followed by Sheriff Dibble in his cruiser. Isaac pulled Sanna back to make room for them to do their work. Sheriff Dibble joined them, reaching an arm up to pat Sanna’s shoulder.
“He’ll be okay, Sanna. Einars is made of tough stuff.” Sanna could only nod. When he realized she wasn’t going to talk, he reached out his hand to Isaac. “Paul Dibble, but everyone just calls me Sheriff.”
“Isaac Banks.” Isaac paused, looking at Sanna and the EMTs as they worked. “Are you related to Mrs. Dibble?”
“She’s my mom—
but half the county is related to her.” He nodded in the direction of the EMTs. “I’m going to get some info.”
As they carefully put Einars on a board and Sheriff asked a few quick questions, Sanna swayed where she stood. The EMTs loaded him into the truck and Sheriff joined them again. Sanna found her voice.
“Is he going . . .” was all she could get out. Why wasn’t she rushing to his side? That’s what a good daughter would do. Instead she was useless.
“He’ll be okay. Some broken bones, some blood loss, but they’re taking him to the hospital. Isaac here will get you cleaned up and follow. Okay?” He switched his eyes to Isaac. “I’ll catch up with you there.”
He returned to his cruiser, flicked on his lights, and led the ambulance out of the driveway. Isaac guided Sanna by the elbow toward the house but she resisted. Bass stood nearby in silence. “No.” She pointed in the direction of the retreating ambulance. Isaac moved in front of her so he could look her in the eye.
“We’ll meet them there. I promise.”
She believed him and so let him lead her into the house, the blood on her hands tacky. She kept pressing her palms together and pulling them apart, like a child might. Isaac turned on the faucet in the kitchen, letting the water warm before guiding Sanna’s hands under the stream. He soaped up his own hands, the white suds turning a rusty brown, then used them to soap up Sanna’s, too, gently rubbing off the drying blood with his soft touch, rinsing, and repeating until the suds stayed a clean white.
“Sanna, I need you to help me get to the hospital. Can you do that?”
Sanna blinked. She could hear him speaking and feel the way he carefully handled her, comforted by the contact and concern, but when she blinked, she couldn’t stop seeing her father bent in unnatural ways. Her mind couldn’t imagine what would happen next. Isaac looked her in the face. He was getting closer and closer, his eyes looking at hers. His lips moved in explanation. Inches from her face the sound finally came back in a roar.
“I need to get to him. I need to get to my dad. Why didn’t I go in the ambulance? Why are you just standing there? Let’s go.”
Isaac took her hands in his. They were both still wet.
“I know. That’s where we’re going. I need you to tell me how to get there.”
Sanna almost insisted she would drive, but knew enough to know that she couldn’t.
“There’s no time to get to your car, let’s take Elliot.”
“You trust me to drive him?”
Sanna paused before answering. Remembering his sprint to her dad’s side, his control of the situation, the gentle way he washed her hands.
“I do.”
• • • • •
Isaac ushered Bass and Sanna out the door, watching for any sign that Sanna would disappear to wherever she had gone before. It had been disconcerting to see someone who, in the short time he knew her, lived life with confidence and strength disappear into uncertainty.
As they walked back to the gravel driveway, Isaac first noticed the shiny, silver pickup truck, then registered the man leaning against the driver’s-side door. Everything about him was taupe. Sand-colored hair blended into dusty skin as if he’d rolled around in the dirt like a hog on a hot summer day. His tan and cream plaid shirt topped khaki pants. If he were to lie down on the dirt and gravel parking lot, he’d disappear. Everything about him mumbled dull and predictable. Isaac would have yawned if his adrenaline weren’t still pumping.
As they approached, Sanna’s gait slowed, her body resisting the forward motion, whereas moments before it had strode with purpose. But it was too late, Mr. Taupe waved to them. They had been spotted. She resumed her pace toward Elliot, both he and Bass rushing to match it.
“This isn’t a good time,” Sanna said as she approached him. Taupe’s face molded into a condescending smile.
“Since you skipped our date last night, I thought I’d see how you’re doing,” he said, ignoring what she’d said. “Find out why you canceled.”
The man’s eyes twitched to Isaac and Bass, seeming uncertain of how to take this new development. Isaac watched Sanna for any sign he should get rid of him, which he’d be all too happy to do. She paused long enough to listen and respond to him.
“It’s not a good time.” Sanna carved each word into the air so there would be no mistaking the meaning the second time. “Pa fell off a ladder, and the ambulance just left. We’re going there right now.”
To his credit, this man straightened and understood the urgency immediately.
“I’ll drive you.”
Sanna ignored him and continued toward the barn and truck. Isaac and Bass hustled after her, leaving the man behind to watch them all clamber into the seat. As Isaac pulled Elliot out of the parking lot, the silver truck followed in their wake.
Who was this guy? And why did he need to follow them to the hospital? What did she cancel last night? He wanted to ask Sanna, but now was not the time, and besides, it wasn’t his business, was it? He looked over at her, leaning on the door at the far side of the bench seat, Bass sliding between them as the truck veered around corners in response to her terse directions. She rubbed her hands together as if still trying to remove the blood, her forehead against the window so he couldn’t read her expression. She only looked forward to point in the direction Isaac needed to turn then resumed her stare.
As they rumbled down the highway, the silver truck tailed him menacingly, nearly rear-ending them at a stoplight. Surely this guy didn’t need to follow them so closely. If he was local, he would know the way to the hospital.
“Do you want me to get rid of that guy when we get there?” Isaac said, unable to stay silent.
Sanna looked at him over Bass’s crazy curls, her eyes still a million miles away, and shook her head.
“He’s been our neighbor since I was little. He and his mom have always lived there. He’s known my dad forever. Up here, a tragedy happens to everyone. We’d do the same for them.”
She returned to her staring. Bass’s and Isaac’s eyes met, and Bass’s face said it all. He felt bad for her, too, and scared for Einars. His small hand reached out and patted Sanna’s leg, doing what Isaac wished he could.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Compared to the vibrant greens and earthy browns of the orchard, the hospital in Sturgeon Bay was blindingly white as Isaac led their haphazard group into the building. No natural light made it to the corridor as he, Sanna, and Bass hustled to the emergency waiting room with the neighbor close behind them. All signs of Sanna’s shock were gone as she stormed through the doors even more no-nonsense than her usual self. He was in awe of her.
Sanna stopped in front of the main desk and even before she could ask, the woman working Registration whispered to them.
“I can’t officially tell you anything, but the EMTs said your dad’ll be fine. The doctors need to patch him up a bit, he lost a lot of blood, and you’re going to probably need to tie him down so he can heal properly. Lord knows that man doesn’t know how to sit still.”
“Oh, thank God. Thank you, May,” Sanna said, unsurprised by this unsolicited influx of information. Isaac assumed that like so many in this small community, they knew each other. She turned to the area behind them, then back to May. “Where should we wait?”
“There’s a room down the hall. I’ll make sure the doctors know where to find you.”
They had the room to themselves. Maroon cloth chairs and muted green wallpaper were a feeble attempt to seem homey, but the piles of dog-eared magazines and antibacterial sanitizer dispensers hanging on the wall made it impossible to forget where they were. Isaac had moved to sit in one of the chairs when Thad grabbed his arm.
“Who are you?”
Before Isaac could answer, Sanna walked through them and said over her shoulder, “Isaac, Thad. Thad, Isaac.” Before the silence stretched into full-blown awkward, Isaac thrust his hand out—he may as well be polite. Thad took it more firmly than necessary—using his flat brown eyes to bo
re into Isaac’s, clearly taking his measure. Isaac added an extra-firm squeeze before disengaging.
“You’re the new help? He never hires help this early in the year,” Thad said, though it came out as more of an accusation with a small bite on the end, like a harmless dog snapping at an intruder from behind his owner’s legs. Thad’s eyes roved over him, and Isaac resisted the urge to stretch his height. He didn’t need to prove anything to this clown.
“We started yesterday. The Lunds have really welcomed us, almost like family.” That last bit might not be entirely true, but he couldn’t resist.
Thad visibly bristled. “I’ve known them all my life. Sanna and I have been dating since college.”
“Oh? She hadn’t mentioned you.” Isaac’s chest sank a bit, even as he knew Thad was trying to goad him and it had worked. He glanced to where Sanna sat under a print of a lighthouse and rocky shore, oblivious to their posturing. Bass sat next to her, kicking lazily at the nearest leg on a coffee table. This was the first indication of a man in her life other than Einars, but what did he expect? Of course a woman like her would have a special someone.
“Want something to drink? I saw a machine around the corner,” Isaac said to Sanna.
“I’ll take a tea if they have it—any kind.”
“Can I get hot cocoa?” piped up Bass.
“Sure, Minnow.”
Isaac hurried to buy the drinks, not wanting to leave Bass and Sanna alone with Thad for too long. He found the machine tucked into an alcove down the hall. He tapped his foot as he waited for each drink to fill, trying not to fixate on what could be happening back in the waiting room and knowing it wouldn’t take Bass long to get bored. As he entered the room, he saw his fear had been justified. Thad filled the chair next to Sanna’s, his wide frame overflowing into her space, his arm resting on the back of her seat. Bass stood in front of one of the hand sanitizer dispensers, a large foamy glob filling both his hands.
The Simplicity of Cider Page 8