“Is Mom really dead?”
Isaac nodded. He sat back on his heels, and ash from the nearby flames lined the creases on his forehead, making him look older.
“But you said she was sick and trying to get better. You lied!” Tears trickled down Bass’s face, leaving trails through the ash. Isaac moved to pull him into a hug, and Bass stepped back.
“Don’t.” His voice cracked.
Einars limped next to Sanna and put his arm around her shoulder. “You okay?” She nodded. “I called the fire department, but I think it’s a lost cause. They’ll need to stay with us.” He pointed at Bass and Isaac.
She turned into her dad’s arms. “I can’t even look at him right now. Poor Bass.”
Einars watched her. She could feel him judging her—maybe amused that the self-proclaimed kid hater had developed a soft spot for Bass—and she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop thinking Bass never had a chance to say good-bye, never had a funeral for his mother. It had been months, and that little boy thought his mom was waiting for him to return. He had written her letters that would never be delivered. Sanna knew the pain of having a mom excised from your life without a chance to say good-bye. She knew it never went away.
“Parents sometimes make stupid choices. They make sense at the time, but in retrospect, they’re a bad idea. We can’t know why he made the decision,” Einars said.
“He lied to Bass.” And he had lied to her—or at least he’d implied his ex was still alive. If she looked back on what he said, his words were always so careful—he had said she was sick a lot, or had avoided commenting at all.
Bass still clutched Snarf to him and his voice raised over the sounds of the incoming sirens.
“You never think I’m old enough. But I am.”
Isaac reached for him, but Bass stepped farther back. He walked to Sanna, who put an arm around his shoulder. While furious at Isaac and heartbroken for Bass, she was still relieved she could be there for him. She wanted to keep him close. Isaac moved to stand in front of him. His shoulders slumped and his lips frowned.
“Minnow, I know you’re angry at me and sad about your mom, but I . . .”
Sanna didn’t want to hear his excuse, because there wasn’t one good enough to justify his actions.
“His mom died and you didn’t give him a chance to say good-bye. You had no right to do that to him.” She handed him the letter he never sent because there was no one to send it to, then looked down at Bass. “Want to head back to the house?”
Bass nodded, she took his free hand, and they walked back toward the farmhouse.
? ? ? ? ?
Isaac gathered their belongings from the ground and slowly packed them into the duffel, careful not to bend the baseball cards or lose a single toy. What had happened that his life now fit into one duffel bag, and even that seemed like too much? He’d pushed away the truth for so long, he’d even let a part of himself believe that Paige was still struggling to recover, not that it was over. Bass had already had one parent fail him—now he had two. He couldn’t even be mad that Sanna had taken his son back to the house without him. He deserved it.
The firefighters did their best to stop the blaze from spreading into the orchard. Two men pointed the hose, blasting water at the ravaging red flames, which hissed as it hit the heat. Siding melted off exposing blackened wood beams. As the firefighters moved around the building, the hose knocked one of the geranium pots into the muddy puddles forming from all the water.
Einars stood next to Isaac.
“The firefighters said there’s no reason to watch them play with their hoses,” he said. “Let’s head back.”
Isaac struggled to his feet, then rubbed his hands on his face, trying to erase the events of the past few minutes.
“They’ll forgive you.”
“They shouldn’t.”
“They don’t understand. Sanna’s sensitive to absent moms.”
Isaac zipped the duffel and put it in the back of the ATV, making sure Einars safely eased into the vehicle.
“Yeah, she mentioned that.”
“Sanna’s mom left when she was young, without any explanation—though I had my highly educated guesses, she hadn’t exactly been subtle about her unhappiness. Sanna was stuck with me and Anders.” He rubbed his jaw and looked at the dark smoke still twirling in the blue sky as they turned the ATV toward the house. “Her teenage years were not fun.”
He knew Einars was trying to make him feel better, but he didn’t want to feel better. Bass had never rejected him before. They’d always gotten along, always been buddies. But then again, he’d always told him the truth before. He’d planned for months to throw the death certificate away—he could always get another one—but a part of him was glad the truth was out. Now he had nothing to hide. If Sanna didn’t want him anymore, at least it was over. One less complication. His chest twisted at the thought.
“Maybe Bass and I should head home. We’ve taken up enough of your time, and it appears we’ve managed to burn down part of your property.”
Einars waved his hand.
“Don’t be absurd. Bass needs time before being trapped in a cross-country road trip with you.” He looked over his shoulder at the smoldering trailer. “And something tells me you had nothing to do with that fire. Between the picked green apples, the girdling, and this—there have been too many weird things happening around here for it to be a coincidence.”
They rode in silence, Isaac dreading yet eager to see the two people he cared most about. Idun’s Orchard had been his escape from his poor decisions, and now he didn’t want to leave. More than California, where he’d spent so many years, this place felt like home. Sanna felt like home.
Maybe Einars was right and they needed some space. He’d made a mistake—he wasn’t arguing that. By the time they arrived at the farmhouse, Isaac had convinced himself he’d be forgiven and all could return to normal.
When he entered the kitchen, Bass and Sanna sat at the counter, drinking grape soda out of glass bottles, their hair wet and in fresh clothes. Bass wore an oversize white T-shirt, which must have been Sanna’s as it almost reached his calves. Neither looked up at him.
“Bass, we should get set up in one of the spare rooms.” Bass didn’t move. “Bass.”
Instead of his child hopping off the stool and running to his side, he remained seated, slurping his drink.
“Pa, can you please tell Mr. Banks that Bass will be sleeping on the floor in my room? And that he can get his own room ready.”
Einars paused, looking back at Isaac to see if he really needed to convey the message.
“Bass, this isn’t a joke. I’m still your father, and you still need to listen to me.”
Sanna whispered in Bass’s ear, and he hopped off the stool.