The Simplicity of Cider

Back then, she wouldn’t have said she was happy, but she was content. She had a routine of breakfast, chores, lunch, cider, dinner, reading, and planning—or more chores, depending on the time of year. Baking apple treats with Pa, and a movie sometimes with Thad. It was predictable and simple, and now she knew that none of it was happiness.

As she walked back to the house, she replayed every major life event in her mind and wondered how it would have been different with her mom there. Or how many times her father and Anders had lied to her? Why couldn’t they rewind the clock before they remodeled the barn and purchased all the cider-making equipment? If she had been content to continue with what she had had, they wouldn’t have the debt looming over the orchard, they wouldn’t have needed Isaac to help them, and Anders would be staying out of their business. Everything would be simple.

In the house, she went into her father’s bedroom and found the box he kept full of pictures of Susanna and took it to the loft. It looked worn at the corners, as though weary from too many years of holding in sadness. Sanna curled her feet under her on the couch, set the box on her lap, and lifted the lid to her greatest pain.

On top sat the picture of the four of them, smiling faces frozen in time. She sorted the contents into piles—photos and letters. At the bottom was a box containing their wedding bands, still shiny like new, since they had only been used less than a decade. A wedding band should have nicks and scratches, like the great dining room table downstairs, but these were polished and bright. As she removed each photo, she studied her mom’s face for signs of Susanna’s unhappiness—a downturned mouth, a creased forehead, a brittle smile. It was so obvious now.

She returned the pictures to the box and picked up a letter. It was dated around her thirteenth birthday.

Dear Einars,

I know you will never share this with Sanna, but I’ll regret not trying even more. She is nearly a teenager and I’m sure she has questions best answered by a mother. I would love a chance to see her. I can come to Green Bay. Just name the date and time.

I know you want me to return to the orchard. I tried. I made it as far as Algoma and had to pull over from the panic. I know you can never forgive me and I’m truly sorry for how I hurt you, but please don’t let our children grow up without me.

Please.

Susanna

She looked through the letters and they were all similar. Excuses for why she couldn’t make it to the orchard and pleas to see her children. Sanna couldn’t make sense of either of her parents’ actions. How could her dad keep these from her all these years? And why couldn’t Susa—her mother drive those last few miles? It seemed the height of selfishness. What made seemingly rational adults make such stupid choices? Anger made it impossible to cry for all the years she lost. Her head hurt without the emotional release of tears.

Now that Sanna had briefly glimpsed a little happiness with Isaac and Bass—seeing the joy the right family created—she didn’t want to settle with getting along anymore. And now her mother wanted to invest in the very place she hated so much. When did everything get so complicated?





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


Sanna heard someone come up the steps and braced herself for another confrontation. At least she knew it wouldn’t be her dad—he still couldn’t make it up the spiral stairs with his crutches. She had intentionally come up here because she knew it was difficult for him to walk up the stairs.

“Sanna?”

It was Bass.

“What’s up, bud?”

“You okay?”

She gave a little chuckle that he was checking on her. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

“I’ll be fine.” She wrapped her arm around him and gave him a little hug. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Dad always says that when a lady says she is fine, she’s really just angry at you that you don’t know the real reason she’s angry.”

Sanna snorted at that. It was always interesting to hear what Bass gleaned from listening to the adults.

“Your dad said that? He’s not too wrong. But in this case, I didn’t say I was fine. I said I’ll be fine. There’s a difference—do you see it?”

Bass nodded and looked up at Sanna.

“Is the orchard really in trouble?”

Sanna shifted so she could look at his face while they spoke.

“It is. My dad borrowed a lot of money from the bank, and we don’t have enough cash to make the monthly payments. Haven’t had enough for a few months now. To get the money, we promised we would make the payments on time and if we don’t, then they could take the orchard. We don’t have enough money to make those payments right now, so unless we get some fast, the bank will take it.”

“That sucks big hairy balls.”

Sanna gave him a look. He was too young to be talking like that—at least around adults.

“Okay, it just sucks.”

She nodded at the improved language. “It really does.”

“Our dads really screwed up, didn’t they?”

“They didn’t think we were tough enough, I guess.”

Bass put his finger to his lips like he was holding his words in until they were ready to come out.

“Maybe you should let your mom help.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

“But she’s still there and wants to help. Even though my mom chose drugs over getting better, I still wish I could see her again—and I don’t ever get to do that again. Maybe it’s different when you’re old, but that’s how I feel.”

Sanna brushed a curl off his face, astounded at how right he was. He wasn’t complicated by years of hurt feelings and a scarred heart.

“First, your mom was sick. She didn’t choose drugs over getting better. She was sick and she couldn’t fight it any longer. Second, it’s not any different when you’re grown up.” She propped her feet on the coffee table and leaned into the squashy cushions. “Do you think we need to go back down?”

“Nah—let them finish the work.”

“Good idea.”

They looked out the window at the orchard. On the far right an unusual movement caught her eye. She scanned to find it in the Looms, not spotting it right away. Something was wonky with the Dancing Tree—as she’d come to think of her favorite. Branches pointed up and wobbled, and they knocked into the branches on the tree next to it. She saw a figure in tan walking toward the back property line.

Without realizing it, she squeezed Bass’s hand as her heart stopped. What had happened?

“Ow.”

She let it go. She needed to get out there immediately.

“Sorry.”

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