The Simplicity of Cider

by Amy E. Reichert

  “Anders, put that away. We’re eating,” Einars said.

  “We need to talk about these,” Anders said.

  “Later. Now is the time for eating and conversation. We all worked hard today and deserve some good food and better company, which is saying much given Mrs. Dibble’s exceptional culinary talents.”

  Mrs. Dibble blushed and seemed to flutter her eyelashes at Einars, then filled his plate so he could eat with his one working arm. They all started eating, and Isaac sipped his cider, looking immediately to Sanna.

  “You brewed this?”

  Sanna cringed at the term brew, but didn’t feel like going into the difference between brewing and fermenting—so she nodded and focused on her food. That way, she couldn’t pay attention to how his long fingers held the glass in his hands as he studied the color. He may as well have been studying her. She felt exposed and naked as he took another sip. Did he like it? Hate it? Not everyone liked cider, and normally she didn’t care. She didn’t want to care now. Instead, she built the perfect forkful of Parmesan, lettuce, and crouton rather than watch him—but that didn’t stop her from hearing the clink of glass on his teeth as he took a much longer sip.

  “That’s astounding,” he said. “It goes so much better with the meal than any red wine I’ve ever had.” He smacked his lips and took another sip. “It really lets the food shine.”

  Sanna had to respond. She couldn’t ignore him no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn’t keep eating, then escape with a plate of dessert to the loft as she usually did. She couldn’t rewind time to the beginning of the summer when she only thought about the next cider she wanted to blend. Or ignore that the memory of him washing her hands after her dad’s accident had played through her mind before she’d fallen asleep every night that week.

  “Thank you.” That’s all she could muster and hoped it would be enough. She could feel her father watching her, and Mrs. Dibble half listening to their very one-sided conversation. She sipped her own cider and enjoyed the burst of soothing rich brown that rushed her senses. Toasty really wasn’t the right term. It was lush and alive, like peat or a balanced dark chocolate.

  “Sanna, this is amazing.” His voice was soft and rumbling as he tried to keep the conversation from prying ears and eyes. When did their chairs become so close? They had an entire table. His voice in her ear was rich, just like the cider was in her throat. She couldn’t help but look at him, and his face was so close. Everything about him was rich and balanced. He was the physical embodiment of this cider. Would she discover more layers the longer she knew him? He was close enough that the flecks of gold in his eyes sparkled at her like the cider’s missing effervescence. He was close enough for her to smell the cider on his breath, the color of it making her light-headed and giddy. She’d never experienced her cider that way. Would it be even more potent if they kissed? She leaned away to capture her runaway thoughts.

  “It’s my favorite of the current batches.”

  “Batches? You have different types?” He took another long drink. “Anytime you want a sampler, I’m here for you.” Sanna’s mouth curved. He had no idea how little she needed a sampler. She always knew exactly how it would taste before she tried it. “I mean it.” Then he set his hand on her arm, the fingers warm through the thin cotton of her sweater, and the room turned upside down. Her nerves exploded and then calmed to a simmer instantly.

  “I’ll remember that,” Sanna whispered, and pulled her eyes away from him and back toward the food that hadn’t changed, but her appetite had. This was too much for her—all the new emotions and interactions overwhelmed her order and she couldn’t sort out what was what. Did she want to know Isaac better? Being near him could calm her, at least when it wasn’t scattering her nerves like shards of glass on a sidewalk. She swayed toward him, then caught herself and pulled back.

  Her hand traced a circular stain on the table the diameter of a mug and remembered the day the Donor left. She and Anders had been building snow forts in the orchard. Their dad had plowed snow into a huge mound earlier in the day so they could carve tunnels in it like prairie dogs. The sun had disappeared even though it wasn’t even five o’clock. Their noses and cheeks were flushed—or blooming with snow roses, as their father used to say. They clomped up the wooden steps, snow coating their clothes like an extra sheet of insulation, and stopped at the top to remove all the layers, then carried them to the rack set next to the fire for the purpose of drying out their snowy coats and snow pants.

  Their parents weren’t anywhere.

  “Pa?” Sanna called. She wanted hot cocoa, and her mom didn’t like it when they made a mess. “Mom?” Taking charge, Anders filled two mugs with milk, warmed them in the microwave, and Sanna mixed in lots of hot cocoa powder, careful to wipe up any that fell on the counter. They had carried their steaming mugs to the table and set them down when a sound came from the loft.

  Anders raced up the steps before Sanna. He was always beating her at things. Sanna followed him, but before she could reach the top, Anders spoke.

  “Sanna, stay downstairs.”

  She didn’t listen. When she reached the top, she saw Anders crouched over a lump on the floor. As she got closer, she knew the lump was her dad. His body shook, and sobs tore the painful silence.

  “I told you to stay downstairs.”

  “What’s wrong?” She crossed the loft to them. “Is he hurt?”

  “Go, Sanna.”

  But her dad shook his head as he straightened. When Sanna’s eyes met his, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, the tears on his face wetting the top of her head, her hot cocoa forgotten.

  He pulled back and opened his arms to include Anders.

  “Mom is gone. She’s not coming back. Ever.”

  And she hadn’t.

  They lost twenty acres of the Looms that summer. Those rows of the orchard still stood empty.

  She never wanted that to happen to her. Especially when she had other things—like everything—to worry about. She stopped tracing the circle on the table and stood, Isaac’s hand falling off her arm.

  “I forgot something in the barn I need to do.”

  • • • • •

  Sanna heard the gravel crunch before the door to the barn opened and knew who it would be. She picked up the pencil to at least pretend she was taking notes instead of staring out the still-broken window like she had been doing.

  “I brought you some dessert,” Isaac said, that rich voice walking up her spine.

  “Just set it down there, thank you. I’ll eat it when I’m done here.”

  The plate made a dull clink on the stainless steel counter, but he didn’t leave. He stood a few inches from her.

  “Did I do something to offend you?”

  “No.”

  “Because you left right after I—”

  “You didn’t do anything to offend me. I just needed to get this done before I forgot.” She pointed at the notebook with only a few words written on the page and a lot of loopy doodles.

  “I can see that.” The laughter she heard in his voice poked at her pride, and, hotheaded, she stood to face him. She always forgot he was as tall as she was, and it startled her that they were so close. Again.

  “Thank you for bringing dessert, but you can return to the others. I’m sure Pa will be pulling out the aquavit soon. If you’re not around, he’ll probably give it to Bass.”

  Isaac’s eyes searched her face, and Sanna worried he could see the confusion inside her. He exhaled.

  “Look. I get the sense you don’t really like me. Shocking as it may be, you wouldn’t be the first. But Bass and I are staying through the season, and now that your dad is hurt, I think we’ll be working with each other more. You don’t have to like me, but I’d like to make working with me less difficult for you. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. But I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sanna watched him say these words, giving her permission to set the rules—
yet she could really only focus on his soft pink lips and how she wanted a cider that was precisely that color. It would be sweet and crisp and bubbly. Something you could drink and drink and never get enough of—each sip would reveal a different shade to the flavor, from a lush rose to a pale blush.

  She had to know what lips that color tasted like, so she leaned forward and kissed him. Barely a whisper, the briefest of touches on his fascinating lips, with a hint of the toasty cider they’d had with dinner. Her senses lit up like Christmas lights. She pulled back even faster than she’d leaned in. The surprise she saw on his face matched her own.

  “I don’t know why I . . .” Her voice trailed off. Colors still crackled around her.

  Isaac moved an inch closer, leaning in to inhale near her ear, but he didn’t touch her, didn’t push her any further. His face was so close she could count the silver flecks in his beard.

  “I’m glad you did. I like you. You’re interesting, smell unexpectedly like roses, and are obviously gifted.” He waved a hand at the cidery as he took a shaky breath. “The few times I’ve made you laugh have made my days, and I hope to succeed at it again. If that will be a problem, let me know. And, Sanna, I give you permission to kiss me whenever you want.” He pointed to the plate and stepped back a few inches. “You better eat that before Mrs. Dibble comes out to supervise you herself. That woman is a tsunami in grandma’s clothing.”

  Sanna finally smiled. Something safe they could agree on.

  “And a gossip to match her delicious food. You’ll no longer be anonymous in Door County,” she said. “She’ll tell everyone about the handsome man and his son at the Lund orchard. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a line of single ladies here in the morning.”

  Isaac smiled, his eyes crinkling, and Sanna’s chest thumped. What did she say to cause that smile?

  “You think I’m handsome.”

  “I’m not blind. Any fool can see you’re attractive.”

  “And you’re no fool.”

  “No, I am not. Fools take actions without understanding the consequences. That’s no way to make a decision.”

  “Not even for love?”

  “Especially not for love.”

  Isaac studied her face in silence, long enough for Sanna to want to adjust her position, but she refused to move. She wouldn’t let anyone see her squirm.

  “What happened to you, Sanna Lund?” His face clouded over and his direct question caught her off guard.

  “You’d better get out of here. Mrs. Dibble is probably spreading some insane tale of an illicit relationship between the two of us. The tales that woman spins are better than any soap opera.”

  “Is it really that outlandish? Two attractive people working side by side in the hot weather, isolated. All of it starting with an impulsive kiss. It’s like a romance story.”

  Sanna smiled again, but this time not so warmly. She appreciated his charm, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  “There are no happily-ever-afters.” She finally took a bite of the cherry strudel. “Except maybe strudel.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sanna dumped the ingredients into the casserole dish. If she could get this made now, then she’d only need to put it in the oven after her dad’s physical therapy appointment this afternoon, but before changing the sheets on both their beds. Anders could change his own sheets. She added the water too quickly, sloshing some onto the counter. She reached for the paper towels but only found air.

  “Pa, where are the paper towels?” Sanna said after looking in all the usual spots in the kitchen.

  Einars sat at the table next to Anders, going over the paperwork he’d refused to look at last night.

  “I stopped buying them. Just use a regular towel. Silly to waste all that paper when a towel works just fine.”

  She grabbed the washcloth and wiped it up, rinsing the rag and hanging it to dry. Using a spatula, she stirred the dish, then covered it with plastic wrap and set it in the fridge. She gave the counter one last wipe.

  “I’m going to the store later, where’s the credit card? It’s not in the usual spot.”

  He pulled out his wallet and handed her three twenties.

  “Here, use this instead.”

  Sanna took the cash, confused. They rarely used cash.

  “I can get cash from the ATM.” She tried to hand it back.

  “Just use this.”

  She shrugged and stuffed it in her jeans pocket as Isaac and Bass entered the kitchen.

  “Great, right on time.” She pulled out a stack of papers and handed one to each person. “These are your schedules. I’ve mapped out everything I need you to do and how much time you have to accomplish it.”

  Yesterday had been her first full day in charge, and they hadn’t gotten nearly enough work done. Due to her dad’s accident, they were behind on everything. Yesterday, they needed to thin the eating apples, spray the late-harvest apples, and mow the orchard, but they only finished half the mowing and a third of the thinning, and didn’t get to the spraying. Never mind she had two batches of cider that needed bottling. From now on, she’d be more on top of everyone’s job list to make sure everything was accomplished.

  “Mine just says ‘Whatever,’ ” Anders said, holding up his paper.

  “I don’t know what you do, so you can keep doing that.” Anders crumpled the paper, then picked up his stack of papers. “I’ll be in my room if you need me, Pa.”

  “When do we pee?” Bass asked.

  “When you need to,” Isaac said, rubbing his hair. “But seriously, I don’t see lunch on here. I’m okay with eating as I work, but Bass needs breaks.”

  Sanna looked at her master list.

  “Damn it.”

  She collected all their schedules and laid them out on the counter. Isaac stood behind her shoulder and pointed.

  “Here. If I take Einars to his PT, he and I can eat something in the car. Then you and Bass can have a lunch. Would that work?”

  Sanna nodded, not trusting herself to be pleasant. She should have seen that error. She needed everything to go perfectly today. If she hadn’t let her dad climb that ladder, then this never would have happened. If she hadn’t kissed Isaac, she wouldn’t find herself so distracted when he was around. It was the main reason she had assigned him jobs on the opposite side of the orchard. She couldn’t let any more mistakes happen. She had to prove it to Anders. She had to prove it to herself.

  She scribbled the changes on the schedules and handed them back to everyone.

  “Okay, I’ll get Isaac started and meet Bass in the barn.”

  Sanna led Isaac to the orchard, where the ATV sat next to the sprayer.

  “You’re going to be giving the late-harvest apples their last spray.”

  She pointed to the sprayer, but Isaac already started to hook it up without waiting for her instructions.

  “How do you, an office worker guy, know how to work a sprayer?”

  “First, I’m an independent contractor in the tech industry, so it’s a bit more involved than office worker guy. Second—my grandparents had a small farm south of San Jose when I was growing up. They had a sprayer just like this and they taught me to use it. As a sixteen-year-old, it was still fun to drive a tractor around. I’m not completely clueless.”

  “I didn’t say that.” The words were as clipped as all her nerves.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You’re doing great.”

  He rubbed her arm from elbow to shoulder, and Sanna instantly calmed. How did he do that? She breathed deeply, focusing on the smell of summer grass and sun-warmed apples.

  “I’m not. But I will.”

  “That’s why I know you’re doing great. I’ve led enough teams of people. Half the battle is wanting to do it well.” Sanna checked her watch. She needed to meet up with Bass, then check on her dad or she’d already be behind. “Though you might want to rethink the strict schedule. Micromanagement never ends well.”

  Sanna nodded, her m
ind already three steps ahead.

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  • • • • •

  Isaac’s fingers flew over the keys on his laptop as if it hadn’t been almost five weeks since he’d coded.

  “You really know what you’re doing on that thing?” Einars said. He sat next to him with his leg propped on the adjacent chair.

  That made two Lunds who doubted his ability today—like father, like daughter. After he’d finished spraying the trees, Isaac had joined Einars in the house. They sat at the kitchen table while Sanna and Bass worked in the orchard. He’d been copying the bits of usable information off their old site into a file. Their entire website made him itchy and it needed to be fixed. He could have a bare-bones site up in half an hour, and something more robust by the end of the night. It would take him a few more weeks to get everything set up the way he wanted. Once that was done, he would create Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter accounts.

  “This is what I do. Big companies pay me a lot of money to make over their online presence. Customers use the Internet to find everything, so having a well-crafted website should bring more people here. That’s the goal of a website, to get people to either buy something or go somewhere, hopefully do both. Once they’re here, then they’ll buy apples or cider. Then those happy customers can mention you on their social media accounts, sending more people to your website. It all works together.”

  He was already thinking of favors he could call in for graphic design work. He’d started scribbling lists of what information he’d need for the website—like apple varieties, harvest dates, cider flavors. As he took notes, Einars got up from the table.

  “Hey, what are you doing? I’m supposed to keep you off your feet.”

  “I need to take my meds and then make the dessert for tonight.”

  “I can do that. You sit and make a list of all the apples you grow and when they are available for purchase. Where are your meds?”

  He shoved the paper and pen at Einars, who huffed, but sat back down as Isaac moved into the kitchen.

  “They’re by the sink.”