The Simplicity of Cider

“Bass, can I talk to you for a minute?”


He looked up at his dad, who nodded to him and winked at Sanna. Her heart eased. At least this she could make okay. She knelt on the ground so she could look him in the eye but was careful not to crowd him. Isaac stayed behind him so he felt safe, and she felt safer, too. Bass’s big brown eyes looked everywhere but into her face as his hands twisted together.

“I should not have yelled at you yesterday. Knocking over the crates was an accident, one I’ve made myself. I wasn’t angry with you. I haven’t been doing a good job and I was angry with myself. Sometimes adults do stupid things—and I took my frustration out on you, which isn’t right. I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, but I sure hope you can.” Bass nodded at each of her words, and even met her eyes as she finished speaking.

It wasn’t even eight in the morning, and he already had a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Sanna wanted to pull her bandana from her pocket and wipe it off, but she hadn’t earned that right. The tender urge surprised her. This little boy had come to matter to her, against her best judgment. She stood.

“How about some cookies as a shameless attempt to get you to like me again?”

Bass smiled broadly before he remembered to be cautious. He looked up at his dad, who nodded.

“Okay,” Bass said.

Sanna headed back toward the house with Bass behind her, even though every cell of her being shouted it was time to work, not to go back to the house. She ignored it, this was her time to make it right, not hide in the cidery. Her dad hobbled through the door as they approached. Over the past few weeks, he’d gotten quite skilled at moving with his crutches, though he still needed to rest regularly. He gave a small smile to Bass, then continued on to meet Isaac, who had the ATV ready to go.

In the kitchen, she pointed Bass toward the table, then poured two glasses of cold milk and carried them over with a package of Oreos—the classic kind, no creative flavors in this house. Bass settled into her dad’s spot and the sight gave her pause. She’d never seen anyone else sit in that chair during her entire life, yet there was young Bass with his floppy hair and cautious eyes locked on the cookies.

She set a few in front of him and left the package open in case he wanted more.

“Aren’t you having any?” Bass asked.

“I don’t eat cookies in the morning.”

“Why not? You’re a grown-up. You can have cookies anytime you want. I’d eat cookies all day if I was a grown-up.”

Sanna sipped her cold, boring milk and thought on his question. Habit had kept her going for years without her realizing what was really happening around her. She didn’t eat cookies in the morning, she ate a cold lunch in the field every day, and she never thought to check her father’s paperwork. It was time to break habit.

She pulled an Oreo from the package and twisted it, licking out the cream the way she’d been doing since she was a child. Bass smiled and did the same, then dipped his cookies in his milk.

“I like your style.” Sanna copied him, giving the milk a moment to soften the cookie before popping it into her mouth. Bass gave her a cookie-dusted smile and reached for another one.

“You grew up here, right?”

“I did. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“What did you do when you were bored when you were a kid?”

Sanna finished chewing her cookie as she thought.

“I don’t ever remember being totally bored because there was always so much to do. We helped our dad in the orchard, took turns practicing the perfect swinging dismount from the trees, and caught fireflies.” One memory made her smile widen. “When Anders and I had a free afternoon, which didn’t happen often once we were teenagers, we’d run to this secret path across the road from the north corner of the orchard. There’s a huge oak and a lot of smaller trees. There’s a small path there that leads to a cliff where you can jump into the water. On a hot summer day, it was better than flying.”

Bass twitched with excitement.

“Can we go? That sounds awesome.”

“Not a chance. Your dad would kill me. Anders and I were a lot older than you, and we knew exactly where to jump so we didn’t hit the rocks.” His shoulders melted in disappointment. “Sorry, Bass.”

He shrugged and they twisted and crunched in silence as they pulled more cookies from the package until an entire row was gone.

“How was your sleepover?” she asked as they finished their milk with crumbs at the bottom.

Sanna set their glasses in the sink and led them outside. Breaking habit or no, they still had work to get done. Bass bounced a bit as he answered, clearly excited to talk about the fun.

“We named our butts. Mine is Gary. Theirs are Harvey and Waldorf.”

Bass giggled as he said the names. He still had a ring of Oreo dust around his lips.

“You named your butts?”

Bass nodded and snorted. Boys were weird, but Sanna wanted to keep his good mood going.

“Should we name mine? Or is this only for boys?”

“Yes, name it.”

They climbed into Elliot and she wiggled in her seat, trying to think of the right name for her backside.

“Marge. Marge seems like the right name. What do you think?”

“Perfect.”

Bass and Sanna kept the joke going as they worked all day in the warm sun. Sanna hadn’t giggled like this since the last time Anders and she had spent the night in the orchard catching fireflies. As the sun started to set, she texted her father and Isaac that they’d be a little late for dinner.

She parked Elliot in the Looms, and Sanna turned the headlights off on the truck.

“When the car lights went dark in the movie we watched last night, it did not end well for the people. Should I be making a run for it?” Bass asked.

“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?”

Amy E. Reichert's books