He picked an apple so rotten that parts of it were mushy and threw it to the ground where Sanna had told him to. He wiped his hand on his shirt and continued to search.
It was almost the end of August and he hadn’t spoken to his mom in more than two months. He had written her letters and given them to his dad to send. The last one was still in the notebook Sanna had given him.
Dear Mom,
I hope you’re feeling better. I miss you.
We’ve been spending a lot more time with the Lunds. Miss Lund, or Sanna, cause she lets me call her that now, is nice. I like her. I hope that’s okay. We ate Oreos in the morning and I taught her how to dunk the cookies after the cream is gone, just like you taught me. She thought that was awesome.
I think she and Dad might like each other. Is that weird? I would be okay with it if you are. Are you okay with it?
Write to me when you can.
I love you!
Bass
He really hoped his mom was okay with Dad and Sanna liking each other, because he was.
“Let’s move to the next tree,” Sanna said. “This one’s a Rambo. It’s one of the first trees my great-great-great-grandpa grafted when he moved to this country and bought this land.”
They were in the Looms, the best part of the orchard in his mind. The air gave him goose bumps, like it was whispering on his skin, but in a good way, not a creepy way. Like the sounds of grown-ups whispering when he fell asleep on a couch in a new place. It made him feel safe to hear people nearby. The Looms made him feel the same way, safe and like everything was okay.
“Sanna, what’s wrong with the trunk?” he asked, pointing to where the tree’s trunk looked funny, different from the other trees they’d been working on today.
Sanna bent to look at the trunk, then her entire body went stiff.
“No. No, no, no, no, no. No.” She knelt and pushed aside the long grass around the tree trunk and Bass leaned over her shoulder. Her hand traced a band as tall as one of her fingers that went all the way around the trunk, like someone had tied a wide, pale yellow ribbon around it, except instead of a ribbon, it was missing bark. She wrapped her arms around the gap, hugging the tree and leaning her head against it, whispering words he couldn’t understand.
“How did the bark come off?” Bass tried to keep his voice quiet because it seemed like that kind of moment.
She turned her head toward him but left her hand on the tree trunk, her eyes sparkling with tears.
“This is very serious. Someone scraped off the bark on purpose, and it can kill the entire tree. I need you to get my toolbox out of Elliot, then start checking trees. We need to check every tree in the orchard. If this happened last night, we don’t have much time before the trees that have been girdled can’t be saved. Can you do that? Can you do that fast?”
“I’ve got this.” He dashed to the truck and jumped over the side, just to prove he could be that fast. He knew right where the toolbox was because he had seen it that night they caught fireflies. He lifted it and had to readjust his grip. It was heavier than he thought, so he moved it to the end of the truck and opened up the tailgate to slide it out instead of lift it over the side. Using both hands, he carried it to Sanna, who had released the tree and was scanning its branches.
“Set it there.” She pointed near the trunk. “Start checking this row. Go down and come up the next. I’ve texted your dad and mine, and they’re on their way to help. This is really important. You can’t miss even one. If you find one that’s been girdled, one with bark missing in a ring around the middle, you need to tie a flag on it so we can find it again. Got it?” She handed him flags out of her toolbox, and he was off.
He ran from tree to tree as fast as he could, then slowly checked each trunk, making sure he didn’t miss looking at even an inch of bark from the ground to the first line of branches. With each new ruined trunk he discovered, his heart felt heavier and heavier, pushing him to run faster to the next tree.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Fourteen trees had been girdled. All Looms. After the wasted Galas a few weeks ago, this was no coincidence. Someone was sabotaging Idun’s and it was personal.
Sanna stepped into the shower, letting the hot water soothe the tense muscles on her neck and the aches in her fingers from the hours of delicate work.
She’d spent last night and today doing her best to repair the damage. Elliot had kept her company, giving her enough light to see by and some music to keep her awake when her eyes had drooped. She had carefully cut bark from some thicker branches and used it to create a bridge over the exposed trunk, tucking it under the tree’s existing bark. Then she wrapped the area to keep in as much moisture as possible. If she could keep the trees alive long enough to merge with the new bark, they might survive. Isaac and Einars had wanted to help, but one was too inexperienced and the other too weak—besides, she needed to do this alone. This had happened on her watch. She needed to make it right.
What she really wanted was to girdle the one responsible, but laws still applied in Door County, even if the sheriff was a family friend.
After being awake for thirty-six hours—over half of them spent meticulously repairing the trees—she couldn’t wait to crawl into bed after dinner. When she turned off the shower, she heard a knock on the door.
“Sanna, Isaac and Bass are here for dinner. Don’t come out naked.”
She couldn’t even muster an eye roll. She pulled her comfy summer dress, which was almost better than pajamas, over her head and emerged. She gave them a wave and yawn in greeting as she walked into the kitchen to help with dinner.
“Don’t even think about it. Sit down at the table and we’ll bring your dinner to you.” Isaac had even shooed Einars out of the kitchen, where he’d been clumping around on his cast. In minutes a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast slid in front of her. He set an apple tart on the counter to cool for dessert.
During dinner, Sanna kept herself awake by counting Bass’s giggles. So far it was twenty-three, but she was so sleepy she had no clue what caused them. The kid was extra-wiggly tonight. He kept peeking at his dad, who’d give him a scowl, then he’d look into his lap and snicker. She scraped the last bite of apple tart off her plate and carried her dish to the kitchen, planning to put it in the dishwasher and head to bed.
To her surprise, Isaac took it from her and put both of their dishes in the machine.
“I know you’re exhausted, but I was hoping I could show you something. Out in the orchard. It won’t take long.” He held out his hand, tan and strong. Before logic stopped her, Sanna set her own hand in his. Unlike the calming sensation of their previous contact, this one rejuvenated her like rain and sunshine. Her wilted energy rallied with curiosity and something else that awakened lower in her stomach.
“I’ll get a sweater.”