Sanna nodded.
When they arrived, the restaurant was dark, with white tablecloths and napkins folded into fans. Wineglasses already sat on the table waiting to be filled, along with three different forks. Sanna shifted uncomfortably in the chair, but her mom looked at ease.
“The gnocchi is to die for. Would you like to get an appetizer? The calamari is good, too.”
Sanna looked at the menu, conscious of her worn jeans and the stray thread from her sweater that refused to stay tucked in her cuff.
“No. I’ll have the spaghetti.”
They gave their orders to the waiter.
Sanna’s mom looked at her as Sanna straightened the fork she’d knocked crooked with the menu and sipped from the water goblet. Her brown eyes were no longer watery and her formerly light brown hair was now a rich milk chocolate. Huge diamond studs sparkled at her ears, and another hung around her neck. No one would ever guess they were even related. Sanna’s eyes grazed her perfect pale pink manicure and stopped at the additional sparkles on her finger. Her ring finger. The diamond there was as big as a cherry pit. Pieces of her familial reunion fantasy disappeared with an explosion—in huge fiery chunks and all at once.
“You’re married?”
Her mom touched her hand.
“Right . . . you wouldn’t have known. I am. I remarried about eleven years ago.”
Sanna did the math, and her body stiffened.
“That would have been about a year after you left us.”
Her mom’s shoulders sagged.
“You’re right. But I met a wonderful man who was perfect for me.”
“You never came back. You never visited. You never called. You never wrote.”
“About that. There’s something you should know—”
“Why did you leave us?”
“I couldn’t stay there. I begged your father to move. I was so isolated at Idun’s. I didn’t realize how empty Door County was in the winter. When we married, I had only known it in the summer with all the tourists, but the summer is when all the work needed to be done. I hated it. I hated everything about it.”
“You hated us?”
“You need to understand, Sanna. I can’t even look at a map of Door County without a black hole swallowing me up. That was a very dark time for me.”
A waiter placed their food in front of them, but Sanna couldn’t look at her spaghetti. Her mom studied her with her fork poised above her plate.
“Eat. It’s the best food in the area.”
Her mom had just admitted she had hated her as a child, or at least didn’t deny it, and now she was telling her what to do. She shouldn’t have come here. This was all wrong. This woman didn’t deserve to know her. She needed to leave. Right now.
Sanna stood.
“This was a mistake.”
“Sanna, don’t be ridiculous. Eat and we’ll talk more. I want to know about you and I want you to know about me.”
“No. Don’t contact me again.” She wrapped her scarf around her head and swung her coat around her shoulders.
“At least let me drive you back. It’s freezing out.”
Sanna crammed her hat on her head.
“I’m tough.”
She walked into the arctic temperatures, letting the cold freeze out any remaining thought of her mother. By the time she’d arrived back at the dorm, her heart was as numb as her toes. After she graduated, she would return to the orchard and not leave—finally able to breathe deeply again for the first time in four years. Idun’s was safe and peaceful and predictable. Idun’s was home.
Except it might not be much longer.
? ? ? ? ?
Isaac knocked on the door to the Lunds’ house and waited. Nothing. He could hear a hard thudding from inside and knocked again. No response, so he opened the door. He needed to talk to Sanna about Bass, and it wasn’t going to wait until morning when he could hear that she was inside. He reached the top of the steps and saw her standing at the counter, hacking an enormous loaf of bread into uneven chunks with a bread knife, wielding it like a machete. Red blotches marked her cheeks and throat, and her hair shook with each thud. His initial response was to help her, but then he remembered why he was there.
“Sanna. Do you have a few minutes?”
She paused her bakery abuse and looked at him, though it took a few moments before she pulled back into the present, the journey from wherever her mind had taken her lasting a few moments. She set the knife down.
“Of course.”
He joined her at the counter. Sesame seeds were scattered everywhere like sand, including on her shirt, her hands, and even her cheek. He longed to wipe off the seeds for her, cup her chin in his hand, but he ignored that impulse and continued.
“It’s about Bass. He hid in the orchard after you yelled at him. That’s not okay. He’s a little boy who has been through a lot, and he doesn’t deserve to be scared by you. If you ever speak to him that way—”
“Scared? He was afraid of me?” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Yes. You’re almost twice his height and not the warmest person. To a ten-year-old, that can be terrifying. I know you aren’t a big fan of kids, but if you do it again, we’ll leave.”
Sanna blinked at him, then swallowed. She brushed the seeds off her hands and shirt, scattering them on the ground, and then tears fell down her face, washing away the one seed stuck to her cheek. Isaac didn’t know what to do. He came here to yell at her and make sure she understood that her treatment of Bass wasn’t acceptable, but he didn’t mean to make her cry.
So he did what any kind person would do in these circumstances—he hugged her.
They stood in the kitchen, his arms around her, and her head fell to his shoulder. He could feel her body shake, and it kicked something inside him. He pulled her closer and smoothed her hair with his right hand. A few more seeds found their freedom. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there. It seemed like forever, yet when she finally pulled away it was too soon.
She plucked a fresh towel from a nearby drawer and wiped the tears off her face.
“There is no acceptable excuse for how I behaved toward him. I’ll apologize immediately.”
That, right there, was his favorite thing about Sanna. She saw straight to the center of the issue and addressed it. She didn’t equivocate or make excuses. She always told the truth, even if it meant admitting she’d made a mistake.
“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow, he’s at the Dibbles’ for an overnight.”
She nodded and wiped at some remaining wetness. Now that the weight of Isaac’s task was lifted, he wanted to help Sanna, too.
“So, do you want to tell me about the unacceptable reason you did it? I’m a great listener.”
Sanna smiled and wiped absently at the counter. After a few moments she spoke.
“I think we’ll need some drinks.”