The Simplicity of Cider

by Amy E. Reichert

  She raised her hand to knock again when she heard steps on the other side of the door, and in moments she stood face-to-face with Isaac. A shirtless Isaac. A shirtless, rumple-haired Isaac, who rubbed his eyes and waited for Sanna to say something. He wore gray loose-fitting shorts, and that was it—a light smattering of hair highlighted rather than covered his toned chest and stomach. The man needed more dessert. Fuzzy tan lines blended the dark tone of his forearms into much paler skin on his upper arms and shoulders. She’d never had the urge to trace a farmer’s tan, but at the moment, she needed to stuff her hands in her pockets to avoid it.

  “Is everything okay?” Isaac asked. He scratched his beard while waiting for her to speak.

  “Uh . . . yes. I’m bringing my dad home from the hospital. Today.”

  Sanna returned to blinking. She could feel the warmth of sleep radiating off him.

  “Good.” He paused. “Is that it?”

  “No. Sorry.” Sanna scrambled for an excuse. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Take the day off since we won’t be doing any work. I wanted to let you know so you could do something fun with Bass if you wanted.”

  Isaac smiled, and she resisted the urge to lean into him. Instead she took a step away and stumbled down the few steps, barely keeping her balance and knocking over one of the pots. Isaac stepped out onto the tiny landing where Sanna had just stood.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Sanna shoved the loose dirt back into the pot and righted it. When she straightened, she was looking directly at his navel. Being around him left her unmoored, like one of those candy-colored kayaks pulled off the beach by an incoming storm, bobbing around on the waves at the mercy of the current. She couldn’t tell if he was the storm or the rescue boat. The closer she was to him, the more she tossed about, except the few times they touched. Then calmness and security took over, and she knew no harm would come to her. Was he her safe harbor or a fierce storm? Or perhaps it was best to stay well away from him entirely? She didn’t like the idea of him affecting her at all.

  “What would you recommend we do?” Isaac asked softly.

  Sanna rubbed her thumb and forefinger on the wood of her necklace, trying to come up with why he wanted recommendations, but the past few moments had scrambled her thoughts completely. Heat spread from her cheeks to her ears to her neck. Could she make a bigger ass of herself? She’d come here with a clear purpose and now she couldn’t even follow their conversation.

  “Bass and I . . . You said we had the day off.” He was biting his lower lip to keep from laughing. She looked up at the sky to pull herself together and aimed for a coherent response.

  “The weather looks nice today. There’s good hiking and a tower you can climb at Peninsula State Park, on the bay side, that gives a great view of Green Bay. And then I’d take him to Al Johnson’s in Sister Bay. Goats live on the roof, and kids seem to like that. You could also head down 57 to the quiet side, to Baileys Harbor. There’s a lot less traffic and amazing views of Lake Michigan.”

  “Those all sound like perfect suggestions.”

  His smile was so genuine and kind. She wanted to stay there and not face her broken father at the hospital or Anders’s irritation when he realized she left without him. She was mostly sure her wanting to stay had nothing to do with his missing shirt.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said.

  She left Isaac standing in his pajama bottoms, giving in to one last glance as she walked away.

  • • • • •

  Sanna sat in the reclining chair next to her dad’s empty hospital bed. He was hobbling up and down the hallway per the physical therapist’s instructions, though she suspected he only listened to the PT’s suggestions because her warm smile turned into a laugh at all his ridiculous jokes. Dad probably thought she was flirting with him. Sanna rolled her eyes to herself and stared out the window. She could almost see the bay and then looked northeast, wondering if Isaac and Bass had made it to the top of the state park’s tower, or were they already watching the goats? She wished she’d thought to tell them about the swimming spot she and her brother had discovered when they were little. It was the perfect place to jump into the water on a warm day.

  Speaking of her brother, he had finally made it to the hospital.

  “What took you so long?”

  A lock of hair had fallen from his precise style. Sanna liked it better that way, it reminded her of the boy she used to know. Not the brother who wanted to negotiate with that woman.

  “Thanks for leaving me to finish the meeting yesterday—like grown-ups do. You can’t walk out like a toddler having a tantrum. And then leaving so early this morning that I had to bring a separate car. Super mature, Sanna.”

  “She didn’t have anything to say that I wanted to hear. There was no reason to stay.”

  “It’s not just about you. Think about Dad. About how this treatment is getting paid for. About how he has no savings.”

  “He doesn’t want to sell either.”

  “He’d change his mind if you did.”

  “I’m not letting anyone cut down our trees. And you shouldn’t either.”

  Sanna burned from head to toe. He would always treat her like the dumb little sister. She didn’t want to fight with him, but she didn’t want him to succeed in convincing their dad to sell, either. The sooner he went back to Green Bay, the better.

  “What is all the tussle about in here, you two?” Einars hobbled into the room with crutches, his left leg encased in a thigh-high bright blue cast while his right arm wore one to match. After a few days in the hospital, he already moved better. A younger woman with a high ponytail followed him into the hospital room and watched as he lowered himself onto the bed and hoisted his leg onto the mattress. She tucked a pillow under his heel and turned to face Anders.

  “I have a list of things he can and can’t do and exercises he’ll need to do at home. We already have some appointments scheduled for PT.”

  When she paused, Sanna stepped in.

  “I’ll be taking care of him.”

  “Oh, okay. Then you and I will need to go over everything. I’ll get it all together and come back.”

  The therapist asked Einars a few more questions, then left with another promise to be back with instructions for Sanna.

  “When are you heading back home?” Sanna asked Anders. He had slumped against the wall, taking up space like a lopsided coatrack, all lean limbs going in different directions.

  “I’m not heading back.”

  “Surely the girls don’t want to stay.”

  “Julie took the girls shopping, but they’ll be driving back later.”

  “But you’re staying?”

  Sanna’s shoulders tightened at this news.

  “Yep. I picked up some cherry pastries for all of us. The girls were sick of apples and oatmeal.” He spoke casually, studying the information on the whiteboard.

  Sanna threw her arms in the air. Everything he said and did proved her point that he didn’t understand her or their dad—that he was wrong about selling the orchard.

  “How can they get tired of apples? It’s in their blood, and they know nothing about it.”

  Anders covered his face with his hands. “When are you going to get it? There’s nothing magic about that place. It’s not a crime to want more out of life. Try it, you might even find you like it.” He looked at Einars. “Dad, can you help me out here?”

  Anders looked between the two other Lunds and raised his eyebrows, asking his dad for support. Einars sighed.

  “Sanna, you can’t complain he’s never here, then insist he leave when he offers to stay. Who knows? Maybe a longer visit is what he needs to be reminded about how much he loves it here.”

  Anders snorted, but kept silent as Sanna glowered at the floor, biting her tongue. She’d lost that battle, but she would win this war. They’d sell the orchard the day Sanna no longer had breath to protest.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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  Isaac watched Bass as he surfed his hand on the breeze out his open car window. They needed a day for just the two of them, but he couldn’t drop the feeling that Sanna would make a good addition to their outing, and not just because she knew all the best places in Door County. He didn’t know how to read her, not really. Sometimes it felt like she couldn’t wait to get away from him, and other times, like this morning, he was pretty sure she was checking him out. It might have been a while since he’d caught a woman admiring him, but even rusty, he could still recognize it.

  He was happy to have been there to help when Einars fell, liked that she allowed him to help her, but he wanted more. He wanted to know how those long arms would feel wrapped around his neck, if there were hidden speckles in her blue eyes. He wanted to know the story behind the necklace she touched when worried or scared, drawing his eyes to her throat. But he couldn’t have that. His life—Bass, Paige, the inevitable truth coming out—was complicated, and he wouldn’t draw her into that.

  But today was about spending time with Bass. Driving through Peninsula State Park was a whole different pace than what they’d seen of the area so far. If most of Door County was lined with rows of apple and cherry trees or else corn and summer crops, then the state park was its wild core, a hidden pocket free from the tiny gift shops and trendy eateries that lined the small towns up and down Highway 42. Lush forests edged the road, revealing orange-domed tents and cream pop-up trailers between the many tree trunks and shorter shrubs. A few campers still sat around fires, enjoying the last sips of fire-brewed coffee before going about their days, bedding slung over ropes tied between tree trunks.

  As Isaac drove through the park, he and the handful of other drivers slowed for the abundant cyclists cruising the well-shaded byways. He looked at the map he had gotten at the ranger station and pulled into the parking lot for the Eagle Tower. The wooden tower rose four stories above the parking lot overlooking the water below, with three viewing platforms; halfway up, three-quarters of the way up, and at the top. After their early start, this seemed the right place to begin the day. Campfire and damp earth mingled on the breeze as Bass and Isaac stepped out of the car. Isaac double-checked that his backpack contained their water bottles, phone, and the poorly refolded map. He sprayed them both with sunscreen and topped their floppy curls with matching tan wide-brimmed hats. He’d taken Sanna’s advice and gotten them both decent ones for working in the orchard.

  “You ready for this, Perch?”

  “I own this.”

  Isaac checked to make sure his backpack was secure and that there weren’t many people on the stairs before shouting, “Go!”

  Isaac dominated the first two landings, his longer, stronger legs taking the worn wooden steps two at a time. He was a full seven steps ahead of Bass when they reached the halfway point, when gravity and age started working against him. Since Isaac and Bass had begun their road trip, he’d stopped his daily runs, never wanting to be even one mile from his son. Now he paid the price. His lungs burned and he had to start taking the stairs one at a time. He heard Bass’s quick, light steps gaining behind him as he dodged around a family of four.

  “Watch out for the family,” he shouted between ragged breaths as Bass bounced off the railing to narrowly avoid a mom holding the hand of a toddler.

  As they rounded the last flight, Bass pulled ahead, his lighter body and younger lungs unaffected by the rapid climb.

  “Burn!” Bass screamed, and the handful of other people on the observation deck looked on with good-natured smiles, especially when they noticed Isaac gasping for breath as Bass completed his victory dance, complete with the Dab and a booty shake.

  “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. I’m old.”

  Isaac went to stand at the railing, and Bass joined him. A stitch had formed at his side, but his breathing slowed after a few moments’ rest. The tower stood near the edge of a cliff overlooking Green Bay. He hadn’t even known there was a real Green Bay besides the football team before coming here, and now he was looking at it. White boats crisscrossed the green-tinged waves. They were a million miles from everything they knew. Isaac let the remoteness wrap around them as he pulled Bass in for a hug.

  These moments were why he ran away with Bass. The laughter, the racing, just him being a kid. When Isaac finally did tell him about his mom—and he would, soon, he swore it—this innocence would evaporate. They would need to talk about drugs, overdosing, addiction, and why Paige couldn’t get better.

  Isaac would never forget the day he gave up hope she would beat her addiction—the day he knew their marriage was over. Bass had been finishing up kindergarten, and Paige still worked nights at a nursing home. Little did he know that’s where she was getting her supply. The nursing home kept a stock of fentanyl lollipops and patches for the patients who used it to manage their pain. He had known for months something was off—she’d been losing weight and sometimes at night her breathing almost stopped. When they would lie in their bed, she would curl into a ball while he curved around her, close but not touching. He’d count the seconds between breaths and some nights it would stretch to seventy or eighty seconds. A few times he nudged her to prompt an inhale. But it was never bad enough that he confronted her about her changed behavior, and he’d always regret that.

  One day he came home from work early, hoping to meet Bass as he got off the bus. He’d pulled into the driveway as the bus turned the corner, just missing it. Bass and Paige would already be back to the house. He had wanted them all to drive to the coast as a family for dinner, maybe watch the sunset over the Pacific with a picnic. He quietly opened the door into their kitchen, planning his surprise. If he was lucky, he could execute the tickle attack that always sent Bass into cascading giggles—Isaac’s favorite sound in the world.

  He poked his head around the corner into the living room, where what he saw made his excitement crack off like a calving glacier into an icy ocean. His wife, Paige, lay on the couch, her eyes closed and sweat covering her face. On the table in front of her were open packets and a handful of lollipops. Bass stood next to her, barely taller than the back of the couch, still wearing his Yoda backpack. He wasn’t looking at his passed-out mom but at the candy. He already held one in his hand and was reaching for a second.

  Isaac didn’t remember crossing the small living room or picking up Bass. He couldn’t remember if he shouted or scolded or said anything at all. He only remembered seeing the lollipop, then holding a screaming Bass, who was angry his daddy had taken the candy from him.

  He settled Bass down on his bed with a bowl of ice cream and Return of the Jedi so he could wake up Paige and have a real discussion about what was going on, finally. He checked her breathing—she was asleep, not passed out—covered her with a blanket, then gathered all the lollipops and pills. He didn’t know what to do with them, only that he needed to get them away from Paige. He sat on the coffee table with the bag of drugs in his lap, wondering what to do next.

  Isaac stared at this shadow of a woman he once loved. She’d always been prone to anxiety and depression, even mania sometimes, and medicine seemed to help. After having Bass, it had gotten worse. She was so miserable. Isaac had offered her anything to make her happier—counseling, moving, whatever she needed. When she began working at the nursing home, things got better. She was content, calmer. They were happy for a few years again—their little family. Now her skin clung to her bones, gray and bruised in places. Her hair stuck to her head with sweat and her eyes fluttered behind her lids. The thoughtful, delicate woman he married was broken, his marriage was over, and he couldn’t fix it or her.

  She started to stir. Her high had worn off. It took several seconds for her to move into an upright position, and Isaac didn’t offer to help.

  “Am I dreaming?” she said at last.

  “No,” he said. “This is all real.”

  Her eyes saw the drugs in his lap, then scanned the room.

  “Did he?” At least she asked the ri
ght question, a question a mother would ask, but her words were flat and distant. A mere echo of what the real danger warranted.

  “No. I stopped him in time.”

  She nodded her head, an uncontrolled movement, as if the muscles could no longer fight gravity.

  “You’re going to rehab, then you’re finding somewhere else to live. This can’t ever happen again. I’ll help you, Paige, but you can’t live with us anymore.”

  She didn’t even argue.

  She’d been in and out of rehab ever since. This last stint had seemed the most promising—except she had found someone to supply her. Too late, the doctors found out she was sucking fentanyl patches she had stashed in her mattress. That, combined with her anxiety drugs, stopped her breathing for good.

  • • • • •

  Isaac sucked in the fresh air at the top of the tower and gave Bass one last squeeze. He and Paige may not be married anymore, but the loss still hurt, compounded by his guilt for not being able to help her, and guilt at his attraction to Sanna. But none of that mattered. This summer was about Bass. He was so grateful they had each other and hoped that would be enough once Bass learned the truth.

  “Time to go down. Let’s get some hiking in. Then we can see the goats.”

  Bass gave one last look at the view.

  “Race you?” he said, then dashed for the stairs before waiting for Isaac to accept.

  • • • • •

  The waitress set their hot cocoa mugs in front of them, and Bass’s face was in the whipped cream before she could turn to her next table. The frothy white blob doubled the height of the mug and had already started to melt into the steaming liquid. They’d stopped for lunch at the famous Al Johnson’s restaurant in Sister Bay. The food was good, but it was made all the more fun by goats roaming the restaurant’s grass roof. Inside, diners could buy assorted Swedish goodies and goat paraphernalia from the gift shop, and the staff wore wooden clogs that looked uncomfortable—though their waitress assured Bass they weren’t bad.