The Simplicity of Cider

“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.

Amy E. Reichert's books