The words filled her heart. It was too much. She’d accepted a life alone, even embraced its simplicity, but now this thoughtful and gentle man scrambled her all up inside.
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
Isaac pulled back and smiled, crinkling his eyes.
“Say what you feel, that’s what I want to hear.” His fingers circled the center of her palm. Sanna’s mouth dried and she cleared her throat, but the words still came out gravelly.
“Part of me says I should go back to the house. I’m too tired, this is too complicated, and I’ll only be sad when you leave. No good can come of knowing you better.”
A worry line formed on his forehead, and it cracked her heart open enough for the rest of her words to tumble out.
“But the other part—the part that’s winning—wants to stop time so this moment never ends. For so long, I’ve been just a cider maker, a daughter, a hermit. I’ve never really been a woman. I never really knew I wanted that. But I do. You make my heart reckless.”
She took her arm from the back of his neck and touched his lips, soft and dry. He tensed his arm behind her back, but didn’t move it. Sanna smiled and knew he was waiting to see what she’d do. She didn’t know yet. She’d only been with one other man, and it was unimpressive at best, awkward and uncomfortable at worst. It had been bad enough that she had never felt the urge to seek another romance. But here was someone whose barest of caresses made her knees wobble, he delighted in making her day better, and he came right out and said he liked her for exactly who she was.
Her chest tightened and breathing became more difficult. She tried to take a deeper breath, but that didn’t provide relief. The firefly lights still danced, their feet still moved, but all her focus was on her fingers pressed to his lips, as if the answer were there. She let her hand trail into his beard, grazing the black and silver scruff, so much softer than she expected it to be. Then she brought her lips to his, the faintest of kisses, and all the air rushed into her lungs and straight to her head. Isaac finally closed the distance between them and released her hand so he could thread his fingers through her hair. She set the freed hand on his chest, covered in a soft blue T-shirt, his heart racing with hers.
She wanted more. She pressed her lips against his, marveling at how they moved with hers, how sharing the same air with him made her more alive. She pulled him to her as he held her tighter, their lips opening to deepen the kiss—he tasted of cinnamon and apples from their dessert. The longer they kissed, the more certain she was that she could never stop, that she wanted all of him. She slid her hand from his chest to his back, right where his T-shirt met his jeans, slipping her hand under the cotton to his bare skin. His reaction was clear—walking her backward until the tree offered its support. She moved her other hand to explore his broad back, soft cotton on one side, strong muscle on the other.
She gasped when he moved his kisses down her jaw to her neck, his strong hands following her curves, tracing her lines. His kisses slowed as he found his way back to her mouth, then pulled away to look at her. Her lips beat with the wild pace of her heart, and her skin burned from his beard. Every part of her he had touched felt different, brand-new, and they still wore all their clothes.
He kissed her once more, more softly, then pulled back again.
“I want—” He breathed the words as his chest heaved.
“We are adults,” she interrupted, leaving a trail of kisses from his ear to his lips.
He groaned against her lips and pulled back.
“I didn’t intend for anything but dancing and I’m woefully unprepared.” He grazed his thumb over her lips, then kissed her once more, at last stepping away. “And I’ll regret it for the rest of my days.”
The way Isaac looked at her in this moment made her feel more wanted, more beautiful than she ever had. She wanted him to always look at her like that.
“You aren’t the only one. Maybe we leave these lights up and bring a blanket next time.”
“Sanna Lund, are you flirting with me?”
She winked at him, and at last her exhaustion caught up with her as she grabbed the tree for balance.
“Thirty-six hours of no sleep just hit me. Time to get me to bed.” Isaac raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.”
He wrapped her arm over his and led her out, using his phone to turn off the lights behind them.
“Thank you for an unexpectedly enchanting evening.”
“It was truly my pleasure.”
Behind them, the firefly lights flicked back to life for a few seconds, both Sanna and Isaac turning in surprise.
“Did you do that?”
Isaac pulled his phone from his back pocket and showed it to her. The app said the lights were off.
Sanna shrugged.
“I never thought it’d say something so illogical, but it seems like a sign, doesn’t it? I guess we need to come back soon.”
• • • • •
“I didn’t think we’d be back at our tree so soon,” Isaac said, and enjoyed the pink spreading from Sanna’s cheeks to her ears. They were dressed to work in jeans, light long-sleeved shirts, and hats slung over their necks to use when the sun got high. The dew still clung to the grass and soaked the bottoms of their pants. He was close enough to grab her hand, but didn’t. Sunlight made him bashful, and the memory of last night seemed like a dream filled with fairy lights.
“Gary wins the race.” Bass dashed past them, sliding on the wet grass, grabbing at trees to keep his balance.
“Careful of the trees, they’re healing,” Sanna said.
“I like how you’re more worried about the trees than him breaking something,” Isaac said, and then he did reach out to squeeze her hand to let her know he was teasing. A rush of memories from last night sent his blood flowing. Last night he had lain in bed wishing he’d either been responsible enough to be prepared or irresponsible enough to not care.
“You and I both know he’ll be just fine. That boy is made of rubber.”
Sanna stopped to look at some apples, turning them in the sunlight without pulling hard enough to detach them.
“Everything okay?” Isaac asked.
“The green is almost gone. These will be ready in a week or so. We need to get the stand ready, and probably update the website.” She scrunched up her nose.
“Not a fan of the website?”
“You made it really pretty, but no, not at all.”
“Good thing I’m here, then. I’ll get it all set up—but you’ll need to learn how to work it eventually.”
“I’ll be in your debt forever, or at least until you head back to California.”
She turned her head, but Isaac saw the frown.
“When are we going back, Dad?” Bass said. “Will we be back in time for Fall Ball?”
“Probably not. We’ll leave when the Lunds don’t need us anymore.”
“But what about school?”
“I contacted your school, and they gave me the information I needed to do some homeschooling to keep you up-to-date before we go back.”
Bass looked down at the ground.
“You okay with that, Barracuda?”
“It’s just been a while since I’ve hung out with any of my friends or played baseball. I kind of miss them.”
Isaac stopped in his tracks. Now that he and Sanna were finally connecting, he really didn’t want to leave, but the whole point of coming here had been to do what he thought was right for Bass. Keeping him away from California was feeling like a decision he was less and less certain of.
Bass raced ahead again to slide, but he hit a spot where the dew had dried and flopped onto his face. Isaac started to jog to him when Bass rolled over, clutching his stomach with laughter.
“See, rubber,” Sanna said. She glanced at him, then put her hat on her head, hiding her eyes in the shadows.
They’d arrived at the tree, where the mason jars still hung from the branches and the grass was still bunc
hed down from where they danced. Sanna carefully unwrapped the tape to see how the tree was doing, then kept unraveling until it hung like noodles from her fingers. She ran her hand over the smooth bark.
“It’s completely better.” She said the words slowly. “But that doesn’t make any sense . . .”
“Are you sure that’s one of the trees that was girdled?”
Sanna turned to him, with a look he could easily interpret. She knew every tree in this orchard like her own face.
“How is that possible? I assumed it would take weeks to heal,” he said.
Sanna’s face scrunched in thought. “It should, but under just the right circumstances . . . maybe we got lucky. I need to check the others.”
Isaac followed her, uselessly, as she inspected all the damaged trees. Those closest to the dancing tree were partially healed, those farthest looked the same as yesterday. Sanna didn’t speak, but with each tree she pursed her lips tighter.
“Maybe we should kiss under all of them?” Isaac said, making sure Bass was out of earshot before he said it.
Sanna snapped her head to look at him.
“Don’t say anything to my dad.”
“You want me to lie about kissing you or the trees?”
“Yes. Both. Point blank. He has funny ideas about things—sometimes he thinks the trees respond to the people around them, this will only encourage him.”
“I’m sure there’s a valid explanation.”
“If he thinks you being here helped heal the trees, he’ll do everything he can to convince you to stay. And you don’t want to be here in winter. Door County is bustling this time of year, but six months from now it’s snow and wind and quiet. Sometimes it snows so badly, we can’t leave our house for a few days. Sometimes the power goes out. Sometimes it’s days before we see other people. It’s lonely and isolating and not everyone likes it.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No. But I’ve seen what this place can do to those who aren’t suited for it. It’s devastating. My mom . . .” Sanna took a deep breath, and Isaac knew her next words would be ones she didn’t share often. “My mom left my dad when I was six. She hated it here so much, she left us and never came back, never even called or wrote.” She looked in his eyes with her pained blue ones. “If even a tiny part of you is thinking about staying—and I’m not saying you are—you need to know the facts.”
He hadn’t been thinking of staying—nor could he, because of Bass. But now he wished he could. Isaac didn’t think the idea of being trapped in a house with Sanna sounded bad at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY
It had been two weeks since their dance under the tree and Sanna hadn’t found a chance to sneak more time with Isaac. She didn’t know where things stood between them. It was clear they were attracted to each other, but he was going to leave sooner rather than later. Everything she’d done since college was to protect her heart from this exact circumstance—but her heart happily ignored all the sensible advice her head shouted. Would a few weeks of bliss be worth the future heartache?
With her dad’s physical therapy still going strong, too many thoughts about Isaac cracking her focus, and harvest starting, Sanna was up until two in the morning and awake again by six every day. She paid bills, prepped their meals, made calls to the bank, labeled the cider, and tried not to strangle her dad when he groused about doing his exercises. Today was the first day of harvest, and tomorrow they opened the farm stand, which would hopefully be the first day of cider sales to make a dent in the loan payments—but she tried not to think about it to avoid feeling nauseous.
“Bass, you almost full?”
Sanna looked down the ladder to see Bass, the harvest-picking bag strapped around his shoulders like a reverse backpack. The bags were actually long canvas tubes with the end folded up and secured to keep the apples from falling out the bottom. Once the bag was full, they unhooked the bottom end and the apples would roll out into a bin on the back of Elliot. Bass was in charge of the lower branches, while Sanna took the rest of the tree. When he walked, he waddled, not being big enough to move the bag to the side when walking.
“Yep.”
“It looks like we’ve got most of the Galas. Let’s finish up this section, then have our lunch.”
They finished picking the ripe red apples off the arching branches, then gently released their cargo from the bottoms of the bags, careful not to bruise the fruit. Sanna pulled out the cooler where they kept their lunches. Isaac would be joining them shortly. He was helping set up the stand with Einars, then he’d spend the afternoon picking with them. Tonight, they’d sort and bag apples into pecks and bushels for customers.
As Sanna and Bass munched their peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, the sun warmed the top of her head and the lack of breeze added to the warmth. She watched the little boy chew his sandwich, curious what he was thinking about in this rare, still moment.
“Did you and your dad start school yet?” Sanna asked.
“Yeah. I’m working on multiplying fractions. I can never remember which is the denominator and which is the numerator.”
“I have the same problem. The good news is you don’t need to remember the names when you grow up. You just need to do it.”
“But why not just use calculators?”
“Sometimes you don’t have them, and it’s faster in your head. Like what’s one-half times two?”
Bass rolled his eyes at her. “That’s easy, that’s one,” he said.
Sanna handed him one of the apples. “Don’t we need to wash these?”
“It rained last week.” Sanna shrugged and bit into her apple. “I’ve been eating apples straight off the tree all my life, and look how tall I am. You’ll be fine.”
Bass took a huge bite, juice spraying to his cheeks.
“So who’s your favorite superhero?” Bass asked.
“On to the important stuff, I see.” Sanna gave the question some serious thought. A favorite superhero said a lot about a person.
“Mine is Iron Man. He’s rich, smart, and gets the ladies,” he volunteered. Obviously it had been on his mind for a while.
Sanna snorted.
“What do you know about getting the ladies? You’re ten.”
“I know things. And you didn’t answer the question.”
“I’ve always liked Wonder Woman. There’s something awesome about Amazonian women. And an invisible jet would be baller, as you like to say.”
“I can respect that.”
Sanna finished her apple, flung the core under the trees, and tilted her head back to enjoy the sun. It was that kind of perfect late August day when the sun warmed your skin, but the air had a hint of the coming fall. Grasshoppers hopped in the long, dry grass, and the air smelled of sweet apples, dry earth, and smoke.
Smoke.
Smoke?
She looked around. They weren’t far from the back of the property, by the guest trailer, and an oily black plume wound its way into the sky. What was happening? They were close enough that she could see some of the trailer’s siding between the trees. She jumped up and sprinted with Bass close on her heels, but not for long. Her long legs covered the ground in gazelle-like strides, tree branches smacking her arms as she cut across the rows, then stopped dead in her tracks. Smoke billowed from the trailer’s right side where the living room was. As Bass arrived, he kept running toward the front door, but Sanna grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt.
“You can’t go in there.”
His wide eyes flicked between her and the trailer.
“I have to get Snarf.”
“You are not going in there.” She kept a firm grip on his shirt. “What’s a snarf?”
“It’s my stuffed animal. A green dragon.”
Flames flicked above the roofline. Everything rational in her brain said going into a burning building for a stuffed animal would result in certain doom. She looked down at Bass, tears brimming in his eyes, and he whimpered bef
ore making another move to the door.
Sanna pulled him back again. She needed to move fast.
“Where is it?”
“On the bed.”
“Anything else important?”
He shook his head.
“Stay put, do you hear me? I can’t do this if I have to worry you followed me in.”
He nodded solemnly, tears streaming down his face.
Sanna took a deep breath and ran into the trailer. Smoke slapped at her face and she dropped to crawl on her hands and knees. Flames engulfed the couch and licked at the walls, moving in angry red tails toward the kitchen. Tears formed to wash the stinging smoke out of her eyes, but they dried almost as quickly with the heat intensifying in the small building. She saw Bass’s iPad on the table and a small stack of chargers and books. Leaving them for lost, she turned to the left.
She didn’t have much time before she’d be trapped—smoke burned her nose as she tried to breathe. She skittered into the bedroom and shut the door to minimize the smoke, grabbing the duffel bag strap from where it poked out under the bed. Luckily, the green stuffed dragon sat in the middle of the perfectly made comforter. She stuffed it in the bag. Books, toys, and other assorted items took over the surface of the dresser, she scooped them in, too, then opened the top drawer and crammed in as much as she could. Everything else would have to burn.
She grabbed the doorknob, then flinched back from the scald as if she’d clutched the handle of a cast-iron skillet on high heat. A blister formed where her skin touched the knob. Black, acrid smoke seeped under the door. She couldn’t go out the way she came. For a moment, panic blanked out her mind. She was going to die. Shaking off the thought, she turned and looked at the window over the bed. She looked for something to break the window, then realized only a screen stood between her and safety—smoke already twisted its way to freedom, choking her along the way. Using the now-heavy duffel bag as a battering ram, she knocked out the screen, then clambered out behind it. She turned to see flames lick under the bottom of the door, up the doorframe, and across the ceiling. Soon the entire trailer would be lost. She grabbed the duffel and headed for the trees and safety.
The Simplicity of Cider Page 21