“We’re way past bee season. The ones that are here are sipping from the flowers.” Sanna brushed the nearest branch. “The L1s brought these trees when they came from Sweden.” She noticed the confused look on Isaac’s face. “Oh, it’s a biology thing I picked up in college, a way to track generations. L1s are first-generation Lunds. Dad’s an L4. I’m an L5. Anyway, most of the original trees have been replaced. But this little nook is still all original. We don’t know why they’re still alive, let alone still producing. Most apple trees are productive for forty to fifty years. These are almost a hundred and fifty years old and still giving us apples every year.”
Sanna ducked into the tree’s canopy and rubbed the trunk. The bark practically buzzed with life under her hand, reassuring her of its vitality. This was one of the trees she and her dad had taken a branch from to graft new stock a few days ago. Above her head, tiny apples the size of marbles loaded the branches that remained, still green, a few clinging to petals that hadn’t found their way to the ground.
She looked back over her shoulder at Isaac, who wasn’t studying the tree as she was, but instead had his eyes on her. The buzzing she’d felt in the tree moved under her own skin, up through her hand to her arm, and vibrated through her to the ends of her hair and the tips of her toes. She became aware of her dry, almost chapped lips, and her hair tangling in the branches above her head. But, quickly distracted from thoughts of herself, she noticed the flecks of silver in his dark hair, both in his curls and his beard, complementing the smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He was the kind of man who would get more attractive with each passing year.
Sanna licked her lips, shocked at the thought that had just popped into her mind.
“I should check some trees we just grafted.” She skirted around Isaac back to Elliot, where she had a few moments to pull herself together before he joined her. By the time they’d reached the newly grafted trees, on the east side of the barn, she’d gotten control of her irrational thoughts.
The afternoon shade from the barn on the tiny trees made it hard to tell what was off about them—but something was definitely wrong. The trees were as she had left them, tiny sticks in black pots, coated in wax until the scion fused to the root stock and new growth started. She closed her eyes to let them adjust and moved so she would be in the shade, too, to help her see. But her pulse skipped as she bent down to touch them, disbelieving her eyes. Her heart stopped when she easily snapped one in two. What should have been still green and supple was already dry and brittle. A quick walk down the line revealed they had lost all twenty.
“No,” she whispered. Isaac picked up on the change in her.
“What?”
She held up the broken twig, but Isaac only looked more confused.
“They’re dead. All of them.”
Sanna sat down, leaning against the barn and letting the defeat sink in.
“I’m sorry. Is there anything we can do?”
Isaac plopped down next to her. The genuine concern clear on his face touched her more than she wanted to admit. She shook her head and tried to explain.
“These were yet another failed attempt to expand the Looms. Each time I try to graft them, it fails. With the trees so old, it’s only a matter of time before they start dying and we’re already well beyond it—I need to know I can make more.”
“What about the seeds from the apples? Can’t you plant those?”
It was a fair question from someone unfamiliar with apple husbandry, so Sanna did her best to not sound testy.
“Not if I want to get the same apples. Apple seeds are a product of two trees: the tree where the apple grows, and the tree that supplied the pollen. When an apple blossom is fertilized, there is no guarantee that the pollen came from the same species of tree, so the seeds will most likely not be what you want. The only way to guarantee the same kind of tree is to graft, to take some of the tree itself and marry it to other stock—but I, apparently, can’t do that with the Looms.”
Isaac awkwardly patted her arm, evaporating her need to mourn the lost saplings. Alone by the shady side of the barn, those gentle touches pushed at her carefully constructed barriers. She fought the urge to lean into his shoulder.
This wouldn’t do. They’d only met yesterday.
She stood and briskly wiped dirt from her backside. “Come on. I’ll show you how to trim the trees.” Sanna left him to follow in her dust.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bass carried the bucket full of soapy water, careful to not slosh too much out. Mr. Lund had spotted him juking in and out of the trees and promised that if he helped him wash the mud off the ATV, he’d get to drive it. He totally won that deal. He would have washed all the cars and the house and the barn for a chance to drive that sweet thing. It was way better than the golf cart his dad had let him drive a few weeks ago. He had checked the speedometer, and the ATV could go over fifty.
As he dipped the sponge into the warm water, he envisioned himself behind the wheel, tearing through the orchard, flying over bumps so all four tires left the ground. It would be baller. He squeezed out most of the water and started on the tires, the dirt turning to muddy rivulets as it ran down the sides.
“Start at the top and work your way down, son,” Mr. Lund said. He towered over him. Bass wondered if he had two of himself and if one stood on the other’s shoulders, would he be as tall as Mr. Lund? Did he see dust in spots that other people didn’t?
Before his mom had moved out of their house, he remembered her frantic cleaning sessions. She’d haul a ladder from room to room, washing every inch with soapy water, even the ceilings. It would go on for a couple of days, then his mom would sleep. He knew to be quiet on the sleeping days. Dad had told him, too, but he knew. If he did make an extra-loud noise, Mom would get really angry and storm out of the bedroom with wild hair and wearing an overlarge T-shirt.
“Here, let me show you.” Mr. Lund held his own sponge that he dipped into the water and started soaping the top where it was only dusty, then stopped when he got to a spot where Bass could reach. “Now you finish this side, and I’ll go around to the other sides, okay?”
Bass nodded. He kind of wished there were more kids here, but he didn’t mind Mr. Lund. And it was pretty cool to be staying at an orchard. It was like having an entire forest to himself where he could act out the very best battle scenes from Star Wars. Miss Lund even said she’d show him how to climb the trees without hurting them. With all the land to explore, the summer would be over before he had discovered all the best hiding spots.
“How did it go with Sanna?” Mr. Lund asked.
“Good. She’s funny.”
Mr. Lund stopped washing.
“She’s funny? That’s a new one. Why do you think that?”
“She doesn’t lie to me.”
“How can you tell?”
“Well, Miss Lund told me she doesn’t really like kids and she’s only working with me because she has to. Why would she say that if it wasn’t the truth?”
Mr. Lund laughed.
“You are right. She didn’t lie to you. And you weren’t upset?”
“Nah. She answered my questions anyway. And gave me a notebook where I could write down more questions to ask her later.”