They ended the meal with hot cocoas once Bass had seen a mug delivered to a neighboring table. He took it as a chance to get as much whipped cream on his face as possible. It was even in his eyebrows. Isaac handed him extra napkins. Once Bass had devoured all of his, Isaac switched their mugs.
“Try not to inhale it this time.”
“We should come here with Miss Lund and Mr. Lund.”
“I’m sure they’ve come here enough. They live here.”
“Do you think she gets hot cocoa? I bet Mr. Lund does. He seems like a hot cocoa kind of guy.”
“What’s a hot cocoa guy like? Am I a hot cocoa guy?”
“You do have one in front of you, but you gave up the whipped cream too easily. Mr. Lund wouldn’t give up his whipped cream. Instead, he would sweet-talk the waitress into getting me more.”
Isaac laughed.
“Sweet talk! What do you know about sweet talking?”
“It’s when you say nice things to someone to get what you want, but in a real way. Not an evil genius way, but in an ‘I just want to get what I want’ kind of way.”
“Sweet talking is a good life skill. Especially when you find someone you really like. But I think you’re on the young side to be mastering it.”
Bass scowled, then brightened.
“Did you sweet-talk Mom?”
Isaac swallowed a sip of hot cocoa, buying time, and it settled in his stomach like a rock.
“Why would I need to sweet-talk your mom?”
“To get her to go to the hospital and get better.”
And here was a disaster Isaac couldn’t stop from happening, he could only delay.
“I didn’t need to sweet-talk her. She wanted to get better.”
“Have you heard from her? How is she?”
“Let me check, Guppy.”
Isaac pulled out his phone, his hand quivering. Was this the moment? His chance to be honest? He had one e-mail from the hospital asking him to call and several text messages from his mom.
IT’S BEEN A WEEK! HOW IS BASS?
I FOUND THESE ARTICLES ABOUT CHILDREN AND GRIEVING.
READ THEM!!!!
CALL ME!!!
His hand holding the phone began to shake more violently. He turned the phone off and set it on the table. He would delete them later.
“Nope, nothing.”
Bass’s whipped cream–crusted eyebrows scrunched together.
“When will we hear something?”
“I know you miss her, but sometimes people need time before they are ready to get back to normal. Sometimes they are never ready, and we need to accept that things change. Does that make sense?”
The whipped cream was gone, and Bass slurped the cooling hot cocoa.
“Do you think the Lunds will need some time?”
Lucky, a topic change.
“I do. Mr. Lund was hurt pretty badly and won’t be able to do all the things he could do before. At least not for a while.”
“We should help them.”
And just like that Isaac’s heart switched from constraint to nearly bursting with pride. This kid always surprised him. One minute he’d be a maniac, and the next he’d say the sweetest thing.
“Maybe that’s why we ended up here. They needed some help, and here we are: two strapping lads ready to do whatever’s needed.”
Bass made muscle arms.
“I’m ready.”
They both were.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The next day, Isaac and Bass approached the farmhouse ready to help the Lunds however they could. Bass trailed behind him as Isaac saw Einars ease himself into the ATV, trying to get his injured leg into the vehicle. Isaac shifted into a jog to get there faster.
“Are you supposed to be out here?” Isaac said.
Einars waved his hand in the air as Isaac and Bass stopped beside him.
“I’m perfectly capable of moving, it just hurts a bit more than before.” His lower leg was wrapped in a large blue cast, and he wore sweatpants with one leg cut off. Sanna stormed out of the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.
“Busted,” said Einars, his shoulders slumping as he scrunched the hat in his hands.
“I can’t even pee now without you escaping. You are supposed to be resting with your leg elevated—not cruising over bumpy ground with your leg dangling from a moving vehicle like a broken muffler.” She turned to Isaac and Bass with a small smile. “Morning.”
“I have worked every day since I can remember. I am not stopping now that I’m home,” Einars said, setting his hat firmly on his head. “Besides, Isaac is driving me around. I’m teaching him to prune.”
“Pa, how many painkillers did you take this morning?” Sanna asked. Isaac’s eyes darted to Einars, searching for the signs he knew too well. His muscles relaxed when he didn’t find any. “I will get Isaac and Anders to help me carry you in the house if I have to—but you are going back inside. I can’t get any work done if I’m worrying about you. Then we’ll all be immobile. Right, Isaac?”
“I’ll help, too,” Bass added. Sanna gave a crisp nod and towered over her dad. She could be intimidating when she wanted to be, and Isaac didn’t mind at all.
“Bass,” she started, but never finished, as a silver truck pulled into the parking lot. It stopped and Thad emerged, a foil-wrapped pan in his hands. Sanna’s shoulders stiffened as he walked toward them. Isaac wanted to block him from approaching, but judging by Sanna’s stern face, he thought that might irritate her more.
“Hi, Einars, Sanna.” Thad nodded at them both, yet ignored Isaac and Bass. Dick. “My mom asked me to bring this over for you. It’s her Friday Night Goulash.” He held up the pan as if they couldn’t see he carried something and handed it to Sanna, who held it carefully away from her body. A waft of air brought its aroma to Isaac, and he resisted the urge to gag. Pungent overcooked cabbage and sharp undercooked onions mixed with something not quite right. Tuna, perhaps?
“You’ll need to thank her for us. That was very thoughtful of her,” Einars said, watching the aluminum foil for any sudden movements. “Sanna will take care of it for us. You know where to put it, right?”
Her lips turned up ever so slightly.
“Sure, Pa.” She moved to leave when Thad reached out for her arm.
“Are we still on for this week?”
Sanna let out a small bark of laughter, then pulled her features back into her resting stern expression.
“You serious?” she said.
“Nothing’s changed for me.” He rubbed her elbow, and Isaac hoped she’d dump the stinky pan over his head.
Bass had grown bored with the grown-ups and poked a stick at small rocks stuck in the ATV’s tires, occasionally releasing one to skitter across the gravel. He moved to the tire closest to Sanna and Thad while Isaac and Einars watched the conversation carefully for any sign they needed to jump in, though they knew that Sanna rarely needed help.
“I can’t. I’ll be taking my dad to the doctor that day. In fact, that reminds me. Bass.” Bass’s head shot up, not wanting to miss his part in the conversation even though he was practically on their feet. “I’ll leave you a note in the barn on what to do that day, okay? That way you can still help out.”
Isaac didn’t know if that was true. It sounded more like she meant she’d be “washing her hair” than an actual obligation, but Bass would be happy to help with a ruse.
“Won’t that be during the day? We can push our evening back so it won’t interfere,” Thad said.
Sanna exhaled slowly out her nose and pulled away from where his hand touched her.
“I will be busy.” She headed toward the house, and the three men watched her until the door slammed shut. Isaac didn’t even try to stop his smile. Thad clenched his jaw until a muscle jumped near his temple. Einars just looked tired. They needed to get him inside to rest.
Thad turned to Einars.
“She makes her own choices,” Einars said, giving a weak wave with
his hand.
Bass was still poking at the stones stuck in the tires when one flicked out and hit Thad’s cheek.
“What the hell? Watch what you’re doing, kid.” He kicked gravel at him.
Bass scuttled to the other side of the vehicle, and Einars started to rise from his seat, wincing at the pain from the sudden movement.
“Hey now. He didn’t mean anything by it,” Isaac said, moving directly in front of Thad and holding a hand toward his chest. It took all his restraint to not grab his face and give him a much closer look at the gravel, but that wouldn’t send the right message to Bass on how adults were supposed to act. “Accidents happen.”
Thad narrowed his eyes, taking Isaac’s measure, and stepped back.
“Yes, they do. But you still have to deal with the consequences.” He looked at Einars. “Tell Sanna I’ll be in touch.”
They watched him drive away, dust trailing down the road.
“That’s just sad,” Bass said when the sound of the truck disappeared completely. Einars and Isaac laughed.
“Yeah, it is,” Isaac said. “Some guys can’t take rejection so they go after the smallest person to make themselves feel bigger.”
Before they could talk more, Sanna emerged carrying a small white trash bag and dumped it into the cans near the barn, then returned to where they stood.
“I saw the scuffle from the window.” She looked at Bass. “You okay?” He nodded, and she nodded back. “We still need to return the dish, but the worst of the smell is out of the kitchen. I lit some matches.”
Einars shuddered. “I can’t believe that woman is still sending that out into the world.”
“Dare I ask?” Isaac said.
“Imagine every bad school cafeteria casserole, then mix them together. Nothing is as it should be. That’s all you need to know,” Sanna said, looking down at her father. “Time to get you back inside.”
He nodded.
“I can stay with him. Why don’t you and Bass get some work done?”
Sanna looked from Isaac to Einars. Would she trust him to care for her dad? Isaac felt like he was being tested but never saw the questions.
“Make sure he takes it easy,” Sanna finally said. “He’s a stubborn fool.”
“Fear not, fair maiden, your father is safe from all hideous casseroles and dangerous orchard chores while I’m around.”
Sanna scrunched her face at him, a smile peeking through her confusion, then walked away toward the barn with Bass.
“Let’s get going before you’re tempted to say anything else,” Einars said.
Isaac eased him to standing and maneuvered the crutches into the correct position. His silly words might be pathetic, but he was pretty sure he saw a twinkle just for him in Sanna’s eye, and he’d say all the ridiculous things he could just to see it again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After a long day thinning out the growing apples, Bass proved himself to be an eager helper and a mostly quiet companion. They worked until their shoulders ached, pausing long enough to drink water and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the shade of the truck. Ready for dinner and a shower, they walked into the kitchen, where Isaac and Einars already sat at the long table, laughing with Mrs. Dibble. Einars held his normal spot at the head with Isaac to his right and Mrs. Dibble to his left. Her straight gray hair was twisted at the back of her head with a large clip, but a few strands fell onto her face, making her appear girlish as she tapped Einars’s hand at something he’d said. She wore comfortable khaki Capri pants and a simple blue button-down shirt that brought out the silver in her hair. Sanna almost turned back around, but it was too late.
“Sanna, dear. Come here. Your father was just telling me all about the day he fell.”
Mrs. Dibble pulled out the chair next to her and patted it; her rosy cheeks and welcoming smile already had Sanna self-conscious about what they’d been discussing. She could imagine the details her dad was sharing, and none of them had to do with the fall, but everything to do with the story she had told him about Thad’s ill-fated proposal. Isaac waved Bass to his side and spoke softly to him, then pointed to the loft.
Immediately the large, airy room seemed full of more people and more noise. Bass looked to the loft and giggled. When a red ball bounced in front of Sanna, she followed its path to the source—two more boys around the same size as Bass leaned over the railing with arms outstretched, waiting for the ball’s return. They looked vaguely familiar, and she remembered Mrs. Dibble had grandsons. Children were multiplying, and none of the other adults in the house seemed concerned about flying balls and possible broken objects.
“I need to shower.” She held up her hands as evidence.
As she walked behind the counter, keeping her distance, Isaac’s eyes followed her and Mrs. Dibble’s followed his. Great. More fuel for the gossip train.
“Then you can join us when you’re done. Dinner will be finished by then. And I brought cherry strudel for dessert. I made it this morning from the first fresh cherries.”
Sanna may avoid Mrs. Dibble at every possible turn, but her cooking was legendary, the antithesis to Thad’s mother’s pan of indigestion. She wouldn’t say no to that strudel, even if the price was a little gossip.
The echoing noise of the boys on the stairs reminded her of her own childhood, before they’d closed off the bedroom wing and before the Donor left. Sanna only had a few memories of her, fuzzy with time. The Donor wasn’t from Door County, but a small town in northern Wisconsin. She was always happiest when they took trips to Green Bay, or all the way to Milwaukee for a special Christmas shopping trip at the big malls. Sanna remembered being overwhelmed by the traffic and people, but the Donor loved the bustle.
They would put the Christmas tree in the corner, near the staircase. Her dad would climb the steps and lean over the railing to put the star at the top, and the floor would be covered with presents. She and Anders would spend the day playing with the toys while the grown-ups talked and something delicious baked in the kitchen. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect place and now it was so close she could reach out and touch it, and she hated it and yearned for it at the same time.
With the promise of such a tasty dinner, she set her memories and solitude aside after her shower and slipped into a simple blue maxi dress, though it barely covered her calves. She wrapped herself in a light sweater and emerged from the steamy room, hair still damp, but the smell of garlic and tomato sauce made up for the chaos.
Anders now sat at the other end of the great table surrounded by papers, his forehead lined with deep creases, oblivious to the noise. Being a parent must have taught him to tune out the clamor that had somehow gotten louder during her shower.
“Sanna, you look refreshed. You can help me finish dinner,” Mrs. Dibble said.
Mrs. Dibble may have looked tiny in their kitchen designed for Sanna’s tall family, yet she had no problem telling Sanna exactly what to do.
“We need eight forks, plates, and glasses. Get them out and the boys can set the table.” She raised her voice to be heard above the racket. “Boys, in the kitchen now.” Like a herd of elephants, they trampled down the stairs and stood at the end of the counter like soldiers reporting for duty. “Set the table. You boys can sit in the middle while the adults are at the end closest to Mr. Lund.” She turned back to Sanna. “Can you dress the salad? And I’ll get the lasagna and bread out.”
Sanna listened, because what else could she do when faced with such confident commands? In minutes, they were all gathered around the table—even Anders had joined. He took the seat next to Mrs. Dibble, leaving Sanna the seat next to Isaac as the boys took their plates at the middle of the table to snort and make fart jokes. Sanna girded herself for the interrogation about to commence, but it was softened by the feast on the table. Einars always made simple and filling meals for the two of them. They were fine, but they weren’t this. This was a celebration. The lasagna filled a huge roasting pan, covered in thick browned chees
e that was crispy in the corners.
“Get me a corner piece, and I’ll owe you one,” Sanna whispered to Isaac, who sat closer to the pan.
“I’ll hold you to that.” He scooped the darkest corner onto her plate with a wink that caused Sanna’s heart to skip. She wished she could come up with a pithy response, but instead she turned her attention to the food, unable to find her words.
The garlic bread was made from a local bakery’s signature item, the giant Corsica loaf. It was slathered in sesame seeds and baked in olive oil so the bottom was crispy yet dripping. Mrs. Dibble had carved huge slices, coated each with garlic butter, then warmed it until the butter soaked in. The salad rounded it out, something light to balance all the heavy food so you could keep nibbling on lettuce to stretch the time at the table.
“Sanna, why don’t you pull out a few bottles of cider for dinner?” Einars said.
Glad for the distraction, Sanna brought out three large bottles she had in the fridge, all from the same batch—toasty brown. Not the most appetizing color, but it was the best match to go with a dinner like this one. It was a nearly still, unfiltered scrumpy style that was layered and complex, but not sweet and not dry. It wasn’t acidic, so it didn’t compete with the tomato sauce, and the subtle apple notes didn’t confuse the palate with too many conflicting flavors. It was refreshing and smooth, a dark amber in color with bits of sediment floating around. She poured it into stemless glasses for each of the adults and enjoyed how the evening light got trapped, making the liquid glow when she held it up in a beam of evening summer sunlight.
She set the remaining open bottles on the table and tried to catch her brother’s eye. Anders shoveled his food in without a word, still flipping through papers, tut-tutting as he discovered a new bill.
The Simplicity of Cider Page 13