“You’re safe—and you shouldn’t be watching scary movies. You won’t be able to enjoy moments like this.” Sanna opened her door. “Let’s climb in the back.”
They stood on the bed of the truck and leaned against the cab.
“What am I looking for?”
“Hold on to Gary and watch.”
In a few moments, pale yellow-green dots flashed all around them. The longer they waited, the more dots appeared, little stars twinkling just for them.
“Are these fireflies?”
Sanna nodded. “There are always more of them here than in any other part of the orchard. It’s better than fireworks.”
“We don’t have fireflies in California.”
Sanna looked around her and gently cupped her hands around a bug that had flown close to them.
“Look inside.” She held her hands out to Bass, who peeked between her fingers at the creature who flashed in her makeshift cage.
“Can I try?”
“I insist. We can’t go back until you catch your first firefly.”
Sanna let hers go and it flew straight for Bass’s white T-shirt. He gently cupped it and peeked inside. Watching his eyes widen in amazement, Sanna understood something she’d always missed. While kids were messy, distracting, and obviously a ton of work, they also opened a path to the past. Through Bass’s wonder, she felt ten years old again—catching her first fireflies and discovering the magic of the Looms.
“I did it.” His voice softened in wonder, his eyebrows scrunched in the darkness. “They don’t bite, do they?”
“In thirty-two years of catching, I’ve never been bitten. I’ve been kissed a few times, but no bites.”
“They kiss?”
“On nights like tonight there are so many, they can’t help but bump into you as you’re walking. My dad called it firefly kisses when I was little so I wouldn’t be afraid of bugs bumping into me.”
“Your dad is cool.”
Sanna agreed.
“So is yours.” She pulled out some old jars from a basket in the truck bed and handed one to Bass. “Now let’s bring the fun to them.”
• • • • •
Isaac looked out the window again. Full dark had fallen, and Sanna and Bass hadn’t returned. Even though he now knew Sanna a little better, it was a big step of trust to let her take Bass all day again. He’d smiled when they’d driven off into the orchard with Bass laughing in the passenger seat of the truck, but still, he worried.
“They’ll be back. She texted to say they’d be late. Stop worrying,” Einars said from his spot at the table.
After a quick check on the early-harvest apples, they’d spent the day inside. After Einars’s fall last night, it seemed wise for him to take it easy, which gave Isaac time to work on a gift for Sanna, which had included a trip into town to Everything Office—which was surprisingly true to its name. While he was out, he’d picked up takeout pizza for dinner. Somewhere in their second week here, Bass and he started dining every day with Einars and Sanna. The routine worked well, which made Sanna and Bass’s absence all the more unsettling.
Einars pulled a pill bottle from his pocket and held it up for Isaac to see. Isaac’s neck tensed. “I wanted you to know that I’m done using these and I’ll be getting rid of the rest. Sheriff Dibble lets people turn them in to the police station for safe disposal and will stop by when he gets a chance to collect them. There are still ten pills left. I thought you’d appreciate the update.”
“I do appreciate it. Thank you.” And he did. He had checked in with Einars a few times during their days together, and Einars had always been very understanding. He knew he had no right to monitor it, but Einars seemed to understand that Isaac needed this reassurance.
Lights flashed along the wall and every muscle in his shoulders relaxed. In moments, Bass’s feet pounded on the steps, making ten times the noise a person his size should.
“Dad, look.” His eyes sparkled and his cheeks flushed with his mad dash to get inside. In front of him he held a mason jar full of sparkles that were dim when compared to Bass’s joy. “My first firefly hunt was an epic success.”
“I see that. We’ll need to let them go later.”
“I know. Miss Lund says they’ll die if we keep them longer than a few hours, even with the holes in the lid. But I thought we could eat dinner by firefly light.”
Over Bass’s head, Sanna reached the top of the stairs and held up two more jars twinkling with fireflies.
“I have backup. We should be able to see our food,” she said, her voice full of amusement. A new lightness graced her movements, too.
In a few quick moments, the pizza, plates, napkins, and fireflies were on the table with all the lights out. It took a moment to adjust to the odd yellow light—but then it became better than candles and more like fairy light. Bass shared the excitement of their hunt. While he spoke, Sanna listened to him with soft eyes. Isaac watched her. The light hid the worries of last night and the stress of managing the orchard mostly by herself. It hid the lingering pain of never being asked to dance, and the isolation of her life. This moment was perfect. While they weren’t a true family, this feeling, this contentment, this connection was what had been missing from their lives. He knew it couldn’t last, and guilt twinged at him again at the secret he was keeping, but he hoped it would fill him and Bass up. Sanna finally looked up at him and smiled—a real, relaxed, happy smile.
“Who knew bugs made such romantic light?” Einars said.
“Everyone knows that, Pa. That’s why teenagers sneak into the orchard every summer.”
Isaac couldn’t blame them. That’s where he’d take Sanna, too, given the chance.
“Why do teenagers sneak in?” Bass asked.
Sanna and Einars stifled laughs and pointedly looked at Isaac for his response.
“You brought up teenagers. You explain,” Isaac said. Sanna rose to the challenge.
“You know how sometimes couples like to kiss?” she said.
Bass nodded. “Like on TV.”
“Yes, like on TV. Well, teenagers sometimes like to sneak around to do that. That’s half the fun—and the orchard at night gives them a lot of privacy.”
“Gross.”
Isaac thought that was a pretty good explanation. True, minus a few specifics. Sanna covered her mouth to hide her laughter, but Isaac could see her shoulders shaking.
“Miss Lund, did you sneak into the orchard when you were a teenager?”
Isaac lifted an eyebrow, curious to hear the answer, too. She cleared her throat.
“I don’t need to sneak into my own orchard.”
She smiled, knowing she hadn’t really answered the question, finished her pizza, and wiped her hands on a gingham napkin. She stood and cleared the empty plates and used napkins, moving the nearly empty pizza box to the counter. Isaac didn’t even try to hide his staring.
“Everyone have room for dessert?” Einars asked. “I put an apple pie in the oven to warm. It should be perfect.”
Isaac got up to join Sanna on the kitchen side of the counter while Einars and Bass discussed firefly-catching techniques.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“Sure, grab the plates and forks.” She set ice cream on the counter, pulled the pie out of the oven, and set it on a blue and white ceramic trivet. As she cut and served the dessert, still bubbling from the oven, a dollop of filling plopped onto her hand. She made the faintest of squeaks, not enough to disturb Einars and Bass, but Isaac noticed. Hell, he felt it. Without a word, he doused a towel in cold water and took her arm. He rubbed the spot to make sure the filling was washed off completely, then held the cool towel over the burn. He kept his eyes on the pale skin, luminescent in the firefly light, not wanting to make eye contact with her—afraid he wouldn’t see his own feelings reflected in her face. Instead he focused on the smoothness of her skin, and the rose scent wafting and twining with the cinnamon. In the dim light, it was all too easy to forget they we
ren’t alone.
But he could never forget that they should never be alone, at least not like that. He’d thought a lot about her kiss—and where that whisper of a touch could lead. He’d probably thought too much about it. Each time it led to the same wall. He and Bass couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, they had to return to California, and when they left, he didn’t want to hurt her. He had to keep his focus on helping the orchard. That must be his focal point, not his longing to feel her eyes on him.
At last he met her eyes. Her pupils were saucers in the darkness, taking over the blue. She stared at him. He only needed to step forward a few inches, and they would be touching from head to toe.
“Better?” His voice crackled as the word emerged.
She nodded, but didn’t move. Isaac braced himself for at least a mild rebuke for manhandling her around the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you.”
Isaac wiped the dampness from the dish towel off his hands by rubbing them on his thighs, but couldn’t erase the memory of her skin under his.
“I burn myself all the time in the kitchen. If it still stings, hold an ice cube on it.”
“It feels fine.” She rubbed the spot where his fingers had just been.
“Let’s dish this up before the ice cream melts.”
She quickly served up two slices topped with ice cream that Isaac delivered to the table. When he returned, Sanna handed him his plate, then headed to the table with her own.
“Wait. I have something I want to give you,” Isaac said.
“Better than first aid?” She returned to his side, her eyes smiling.
He pulled the stack of sticker-labels from his back pocket.
“I made these today . . . when you mentioned none of your cider bottles had labels . . .” He spread them out on the counter like a stack of cards. They were four-by-four-inch stickers, ranging in colors from a vibrant aqua to a rusty red, colors taken from her journal. On the side in a bold font read IDUN’S ORCHARD. Underneath, in tiny letters, the address. He’d spent a few hours designing them and a few more hours imagining the delight on Sanna’s face when she saw them. He wasn’t disappointed. Sanna trailed her fingers over them, finally pulling one out to examine it.
“How did you do this?”
“They didn’t take long.”
“They’re beautiful. No one has ever . . .” And then she hugged him, pulling him in tight, her rose scent enmeshing his carefully constructed, logical wall and tumbling it down. He let his lips graze the silky skin on the side of her neck, relishing Sanna’s quick intake of breath. He didn’t care if all the ice cream in the world melted—he wasn’t pulling away first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Pa, you ready to go?”
Isaac couldn’t stop his head from turning instantly toward the sound of Sanna’s voice. She strode from the side of the barn toward the ATV, where Einars sat next to him. Bass followed behind, carrying a crate of bottles. Her floppy hat kept her face in shadow, but he didn’t need to see it to know there were light pink roses on her cheeks from a day of working or that her sharp blue eyes took in his every motion before turning away.
After last night’s hug and covert neck kissing—which wasn’t really a kiss, but it wasn’t not a kiss either—he had decided the best way to handle this attraction was to embrace it. Resisting would only prolong the emotions. If he let it run its course, the sooner it would evaporate, and he’d stop feeling like a teenager ogling the girl next door.
“Where you headed? I can take him,” Isaac offered.
Sanna stopped in front of him. She wet a bandana from her water bottle and wrapped it around her neck—stray drips escaped to trace a path down her chest and disappear into the tank top she wore under a long-sleeve denim shirt.
“It’s haircut day.”
Typical Sanna, only giving the barest of information. This woman was driving him crazy.
“What Sanna isn’t explaining,” Einars chimed in, “is that we normally cut each other’s hair, but I can’t cut hers with my arm cast, so we have to go to Mrs. Dibble’s salon.”
Mrs. Dibble had a salon? Sanna must have noticed his confused expression.
“She owns a hair salon. She rarely cuts hair anymore, but she still goes there almost every day. It’s the best place to hear the latest local dirt.” Sanna rolled her eyes. “Maybe I’ll grow my hair out.”
“I can cut it,” Isaac said. “I’ve been trimming Bass’s for years. And you look good, right, Tuna?” Bass had climbed between Isaac’s legs in the ATV and pretended to drive.
“Sure, Dad.” He smiled, glad to be included in the conversation, then pretended to push some buttons—most likely destroying the Death Star or flying a fighter jet.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll bring the truck around.” Sanna sniffed.
“That’s probably for the best. Now that it’s August, I’m sure Mrs. Dibble can’t wait to get the full story about how it’s going with Bass and Isaac,” Einars added, smiling when Sanna crossed her arms.
Isaac could see her calculating which was the worse option. Exposing herself to an hour of Mrs. Dibble’s meddling, which would fuel the Door County gossip train, or letting him touch her hair. He held his breath, unable to guess which would be the lesser of two evils and hoping it was him.
Sanna eyed Bass’s head as if trying to determine the quality.
“Let’s do it before dinner. You can cut Pa’s hair, but first let me get in a shower.” She nodded decisively, then disappeared into the house.
“I can’t believe she said yes,” Isaac said.
“You have no idea how nosy Mrs. Dibble can be on her own turf. She’d probably let a blindfolded Bass cut her hair.” Einars looked at Isaac. “You sure you can do this?”
Isaac thought of all the times he’d trimmed the hair on Bass’s wiggly toddler head bribing him to stay still just two more minutes.
“I’ve got this. I’ll go get my kit from the trailer, and we’ll be back in a few.” He got out of the ATV after nudging Bass to get off him. “Can you get inside okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. It’s like these crutches are a part of me now. Take the ATV.”
Isaac nodded and zoomed off with Bass in the passenger seat, veering down the rows that would get him to the trailer the quickest, knowing exactly where to cut across so he’d arrive exactly at the steps, where the geraniums were still blooming. It had been almost six weeks since they arrived, and this little trailer felt more like home than San Jose had for the past five years. Between his business, Bass’s school, and managing Paige’s latest crisis, he rarely had the chance to enjoy quality time with Bass when they lived in California. He’d spent more time with him this summer than he had since Bass’s first day of school. In San Jose, he would work late most nights, pausing only to make dinner and put Bass to bed. Here, once the orchard work was done, they were together. With only Bass to focus on, he had learned to slow down and appreciate each day. He was grateful.
It didn’t take long to return to the farmhouse. Sanna had already finished her shower, hair damp and pushed back off her forehead, the ends curling from the humidity. She puttered in the kitchen, peeling potatoes at the high countertop. She used the peeler to point him toward the bathroom, but gave no other acknowledgment that he was present. Was she distracted with thoughts of the orchard? Or, he could hope, distracted with thoughts of him?
It didn’t take long to trim Einars’s thinning hair or even to wrangle Bass for a quick taming of his wild curls. Isaac used the broom to sweep the hair into a small pile in the corner. When he turned, Sanna stood in the doorway. The previously spacious and airy white bathroom shrunk by half as she took a step toward him. He pointed to the stool he had pulled in earlier from the kitchen and she sat, her long legs stretched out in front of her, distracting him. His mind blanked as he searched for something to talk about.
Focus on the hair.
He used the black barber-style comb to smooth out her nearly dry lock
s—it slid easily through the blushing strands, but he was careful not to pull when it hit a knot. He cleared his throat.
“Okay, miss. How do you like it?”
“Excuse me?” Sanna said, looking horrified in the mirror.
“Your hair. How do you like it cut?”
“Oh, right, yeah, the same length as my earlobe.”
At present, her hair brushed the middle of her pale neck. Up close, he could see uneven lines where Einars had cut it previously and was relieved he didn’t have sky-high standards to meet. He took a lock next to her face between his two fingers and lifted it so the end brushed the bottom of her ear. She jumped, then settled into place, but he could see the thrum of her heartbeat in her white throat. Its pace matched his own.
“Is this about right?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice softer than he had ever heard it before, like she had just woken up and the fog of sleep hadn’t quite lifted.
Though the door was open, Isaac couldn’t see Einars or Bass, he could only hear Einars telling Bass to grab plates and forks for dinner, then the sound of a baseball game on the TV. They had privacy for the first time since she’d kissed him in the barn. In fact, he suspected Einars was keeping Bass distracted so he and Sanna wouldn’t be interrupted. Sanna sat on the stool facing the large mirror over the sink and counter. When he gathered the top layer of her hair on top of her head in some clips that had come with the haircutting kit, she closed her eyes. She seemed to relax into the moment. In silence, he snipped, the hair falling like golden snow on the fluffy blue towel she had wrapped around her shoulders.
As he bent close to inspect his precision along her nape, the subtle scent of roses and something less common filled his lungs and went straight to his heart. He held in a groan, but couldn’t help letting a small sigh whisper across the back of her neck. Sanna inhaled quickly, but didn’t move away. Goose bumps arose where his breath had touched.
Satisfied the bottom half was even, he released the top half, combing it again, taking longer than was strictly necessary. He liked watching her when her eyes were closed. He had never seen her this relaxed, like a cat after you’d found its preferred spot for scratching. He began snipping again, pulling each silky section between his fingers. To make sure the sides were even, he stood directly in front of her and pulled a strand from each side of her face, bending inches from her, the subtle rose scent torturing him in a horribly pleasant way. Each strand traced a path through his fingertips, shooting jolts up his arms that stopped his lungs and sent his heart racing.
The Simplicity of Cider Page 18