CHAPTER ELEVEN
Compared to the vibrant greens and earthy browns of the orchard, the hospital in Sturgeon Bay was blindingly white as Isaac led their haphazard group into the building. No natural light made it to the corridor as he, Sanna, and Bass hustled to the emergency waiting room with the neighbor close behind them. All signs of Sanna’s shock were gone as she stormed through the doors even more no-nonsense than her usual self. He was in awe of her.
Sanna stopped in front of the main desk and even before she could ask, the woman working Registration whispered to them.
“I can’t officially tell you anything, but the EMTs said your dad’ll be fine. The doctors need to patch him up a bit, he lost a lot of blood, and you’re going to probably need to tie him down so he can heal properly. Lord knows that man doesn’t know how to sit still.”
“Oh, thank God. Thank you, May,” Sanna said, unsurprised by this unsolicited influx of information. Isaac assumed that like so many in this small community, they knew each other. She turned to the area behind them, then back to May. “Where should we wait?”
“There’s a room down the hall. I’ll make sure the doctors know where to find you.”
They had the room to themselves. Maroon cloth chairs and muted green wallpaper were a feeble attempt to seem homey, but the piles of dog-eared magazines and antibacterial sanitizer dispensers hanging on the wall made it impossible to forget where they were. Isaac had moved to sit in one of the chairs when Thad grabbed his arm.
“Who are you?”
Before Isaac could answer, Sanna walked through them and said over her shoulder, “Isaac, Thad. Thad, Isaac.” Before the silence stretched into full-blown awkward, Isaac thrust his hand out—he may as well be polite. Thad took it more firmly than necessary—using his flat brown eyes to bore into Isaac’s, clearly taking his measure. Isaac added an extra-firm squeeze before disengaging.
“You’re the new help? He never hires help this early in the year,” Thad said, though it came out as more of an accusation with a small bite on the end, like a harmless dog snapping at an intruder from behind his owner’s legs. Thad’s eyes roved over him, and Isaac resisted the urge to stretch his height. He didn’t need to prove anything to this clown.
“We started yesterday. The Lunds have really welcomed us, almost like family.” That last bit might not be entirely true, but he couldn’t resist.
Thad visibly bristled. “I’ve known them all my life. Sanna and I have been dating since college.”
“Oh? She hadn’t mentioned you.” Isaac’s chest sank a bit, even as he knew Thad was trying to goad him and it had worked. He glanced to where Sanna sat under a print of a lighthouse and rocky shore, oblivious to their posturing. Bass sat next to her, kicking lazily at the nearest leg on a coffee table. This was the first indication of a man in her life other than Einars, but what did he expect? Of course a woman like her would have a special someone.
“Want something to drink? I saw a machine around the corner,” Isaac said to Sanna.
“I’ll take a tea if they have it—any kind.”
“Can I get hot cocoa?” piped up Bass.
“Sure, Minnow.”
Isaac hurried to buy the drinks, not wanting to leave Bass and Sanna alone with Thad for too long. He found the machine tucked into an alcove down the hall. He tapped his foot as he waited for each drink to fill, trying not to fixate on what could be happening back in the waiting room and knowing it wouldn’t take Bass long to get bored. As he entered the room, he saw his fear had been justified. Thad filled the chair next to Sanna’s, his wide frame overflowing into her space, his arm resting on the back of her seat. Bass stood in front of one of the hand sanitizer dispensers, a large foamy glob filling both his hands.
“Oops.” The glob wobbled like a water balloon in an earthquake.
“Here.” Sanna stood, held out her arms, and scooped some of the foam with her fingertips, then rubbed it onto her hands.
Bass offered his hand to Thad.
“Want some?”
Thad curled his lip. “No,” he said in a disgusted tone.
“Don’t be a jerk, Thad. He’s a good kid,” Sanna said.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Isaac said, seeing Bass with the mound of hand sanitizer still resting in his hands. He passed a steaming paper cup to Sanna, scowled at Thad for being a dick to Bass, and set the other two cups on the table. Then he plucked a tissue from a nearby box and handed it to Bass. “Let’s keep the chaos to a level three in here, okay?”
Bass nodded and sat back down in the row of seats adjacent to Thad, wiping his hands of the excess foam. Sanna still stood, blowing on her tea. Isaac sat beside Bass and sipped his bitter coffee, wishing hospitals had found a way to have decent beverages for hospital waiting rooms. If they were in the hospital waiting room, loved ones already had enough to worry about without suffering crap drinks.
“Is Mr. Lund going to be okay?” Bass asked him quietly. “That was a lot of blood.”
Thad barked a laugh, and Sanna chose not to return to her seat next to him, but moved closer to Isaac.
“Sebastian Banks, that is not appropriate to talk about.” Isaac’s voice was sharper than usual. He glanced anxiously at Sanna, who didn’t need to be reminded of the scene on the gravel below the barn’s window. She waved him off.
“It’s fine. And it was way too much blood. I never want to see that again and I can’t stop thinking about it. But May said he’d be okay, and I trust her. Though I can’t understand how it’s possible. His leg and arm were going in directions they weren’t supposed to go. Will he walk again? Write again? Will he need blood? What about a wheelchair? I need to get back to the orchard. We have to spray the trees, and there are more bottles ready to be filled with cider I started in February. Teal. Should be juicy and satisfying. We need to graft some of the Looms onto new stock just in case they get decimated—but I can’t make it work. And the mower needs to be given a tune-up before it’s used this season, and it should be done this week or the grass will get too long.” Isaac had no idea Sanna even contained this many words, but he didn’t dare interrupt.
As Isaac and Bass watched her go—it was like she’d been saving up all the words since their arrival and now they had broken through the dam in her brain. Thad shifted in his seat and picked up a magazine—either used to this or he didn’t care. Either way, Isaac wanted to drag his callous taupeness out of the room. Sanna deserved better.
“I forgot to put the juice I was thawing back in the fridge. I hope it doesn’t go bad. Though the weather isn’t too warm. We could use a little more rain, but not much. Apples are sweeter when the rain accumulation is low. Did you know that? And where is Anders? He should be here. I texted him while you were getting the coffee, and Green Bay isn’t that far away. I wonder if he’ll help at the orchard or if—”
• • • • •
“Of course I’ll help, Sanna-who.” In ambled her brother, an inch or so taller than her, blond hair neatly parted on the side and trimmed. He had their father’s high forehead and sharp cheekbones. Every year that he aged, he looked more and more like Pa. Women always thought he was handsome, though she just saw the boy who used to dash through the orchard like Bass did now. He still wore a navy suit and golden tie, so he must have come straight from work in his Green Bay real estate office. He carried on like he sold high-end New York pieds-à-terre, instead of fifties ranches and suburban houses, but he seemed to be making a living if the new mini-palace he built last year was any indication.
Behind him trailed his wife, Julie, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders, and their girls, Gabby and Sarah. All three of them wore summer dresses with pastel cardigans, like they’d popped off the cover of a Land’s End catalog. Julie pointed the girls to a corner and gave them both iPads to keep them distracted. Sanna hoped that meant they’d be unobtrusive.
She bent down to give her sister-in-law the quickest of embraces, never having truly warmed up to her. She was always so tiny and clean, with a perfect manicure and silky brown hair that ended in a precise straight line at her shoulders. Sanna envisioned her measuring it every morning to make sure each strand was the correct length.
The girls were miniature, spoiled versions of Julie. Already, they whispered too loudly about who got the iPad or the iPad mini, both wanting the larger one. Just once, Sanna would love to see them running through the orchard or stomping in a mud puddle, anything that might result in dirty hands and wild hair, anything that would prove them related to her.
Despite being annoyed with all the choices her brother had made in his life that had taken him away from her and Idun’s—where he hadn’t lived since high school—she loved Anders just as much as she always had. She stood and hugged him, relieved that he could help now with any decisions that needed to be made. He smelled like lavender and vanilla fabric softener, familiar and comforting.
“You made it,” she said, holding him by the arms.
“Of course I did.”
“You didn’t need to bring the crew.”
“Julie wanted to come and help.”
Sanna would have called bullshit, but she didn’t have the energy. For as long as they’d been married, Julie had wanted as little to do with the orchard as possible. She probably came to make sure Anders didn’t stay too long.
“How nice.”
She introduced everyone, Isaac and Anders meeting each other’s level gazes, Julie offering a limp hand, and the girls ignoring the adults entirely. Julie settled into a chair on the edge of her seat with her legs crossed and tucked beneath, like she was having an audience with the queen. Thad gave them both a hug like they were best pals. What was he even still doing here?
“What happened?” Anders asked.
“He was being bullheaded.” Having Anders there made her feel more like herself, like it would all be okay again. Like everything would go back to normal again soon.
“What’s new?” His ordinary opening salvo.
They settled into their usual polite conversation, which they’d perfected over the years to avoid their family hot-button issues.
“I finally got off the waitlist for Packers season tickets. You’ll need to come down for a game.”
“Of course I’ll come, when the fall winds down. Congrats, how long were you on?”
“I put my name down my last year in college, so fifteen years almost.”
“That’s not too bad. Sheriff said he was on for twenty-five.”
Sanna sipped her tea, searching for something—anything—neutral to discuss.
Apparently also running out of easy topics, Anders got to the point: “So how did it happen?”
“He climbed up a ladder to fix a broken window. I think he sliced his hand on a shard of glass, then lost his balance. There was so much blood. I’d never seen him so pale. He knocked himself out on the fall, thank God. And all this after he hired Isaac, claiming he was too old to do everything himself anymore.”
“I wondered about all the extra people. I guess that makes sense, but I doubt Idun’s can afford labor this early in the season.”
Sanna bristled at the criticism, aware of Isaac’s eyes on her, though he was holding a magazine.
“The orchard is fine.”
“No, it’s not. It hasn’t been for years. If you helped with the books, you’d know.”
“You don’t help with anything, what do you know?”
“I know that we could all retire tomorrow if we sold that land.”
Sanna gasped and her hand twitched, ready to smack that ridiculous idea right out of his head. Thad set down his magazine, suddenly rapt.
“Keep your stupid ideas to yourself. We aren’t selling.”
“Why not get out while we can make some money? Before you two run it into the ground,” Anders said.
“You know nothing. You haven’t touched a tree in ten years and have no idea what or how we’re doing.”
“I know you’re playing with your cider while a seventy-year-old man is climbing ladders and injuring himself.”
Heat burned the tears in her eyes before they could fall. How dare he question how they ran the orchard? He got his annual check of the profits, he should have nothing to complain about. It kept his family in the latest Apple products—the closest the girls came to the family business.
Anders softened his voice and put a hand on Sanna’s shoulder.
“I know you love it, but you can’t keep going. It makes sense to sell while there is good money on the table.”
Sanna pushed his hand off.
“What do you mean good money? What aren’t you telling me?”
Anders shook his head and closed his eyes, and Sanna knew he hadn’t intended to share that bit of info.
“I’ve gotten an offer.”
“Why did an offer go to you? You don’t even live in Door County.”
“Wild Water Works had their representative reach out to Dad, and he told them where they could shove the offer.” Sanna smiled, enjoying the vision of her familiar, feisty father. “They contacted me in the hopes I could be more convincing.”
“How did they even find you?”
“I’m listed on paperwork filed with the county. After that, I’m easy to find—I’m in real estate—my contact number is everywhere.”
“You should have told them where to shove it, too.”
In the silence that followed that statement, Sanna’s ears picked up on what had been going on while the adults had been fighting. In the corner, the girls were giggling and pointing at Bass, who had gone to see what they were playing on their iPads.
“Why is your hair so long?” Gabby asked.
Bass shrugged his shoulders.
“Can you put it up in a ponytail?” Sarah asked.
Sanna’s eyes narrowed across the room.
“No.” Gabby laughed. “He would look even more like a girl.” Bass scowled, and Sanna’s blood boiled. She stormed over to the girls and grabbed their iPads.
“Since your mom isn’t stopping this behavior, I will. You can’t say whatever thought pops into your mind. For example, I don’t call you mean, useless twits, even when you’re acting like ones.”
Their eyes widened, and big fat tears poured out of both sets in an instant. Julie bustled to them, pulling them into her arms and scowling at Sanna. Sanna rolled her eyes, recognizing crocodile tears when she saw them. Bass shuffled over to Isaac, who gave Sanna a grateful nod.
“You can’t talk to them like that, Sanna.” Anders rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. Their whining sniffles rubbed at her already raw nerves. She didn’t want to be in this small, fluorescent room with any of these people anymore. She needed the solitude of her barn with its dim lighting and sweet, musty apple scent.
“I’ll be back.”
She left the room and turned a few corners to find a door leading to a small outdoor patio. Bursting through the doors, she sucked in the warm late-June air. The hospital was close enough to the lake for the air to carry a fishy tang. She breathed deeper. If she couldn’t be back at Idun’s, this bit of space to herself would have to do. Sanna had endured enough mean girls growing up, she couldn’t abide it in her presence. Mean-spirited teasing like that made her skin twitch. She knew she should apologize to her nieces for speaking so harshly, but she couldn’t muster the necessary sincerity. For the sake of her dad, she turned to give it her best shot, but Thad stood in her way.
“You okay?” he said.
“Fine.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, and she had to tilt her head down to look at him.
“Sanna, I couldn’t help hearing what your brother said about the offer and the orchard. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for ages, but now with your dad hurt and apparently so much debt on Idun’s . . .”
His monotonous words droned on, mushing together into a dull murmur. When would he stop talking? She needed to get back to the waiting room in case a doctor came to talk to them.
“. . . why we should marry.”
She moved to go past him, then froze.
“Marry?”
“Yes. It’d be ideal.”
Sanna snorted, then realized he wasn’t joking. This wasn’t a friendly attempt to cheer her up with absurdity—he really meant it.
“You can’t be serious.” But his blank expression made it clear he was. “You and me? No. Absolutely not.”
He took a deep breath and began to speak as if he were explaining to a toddler for the tenth time why he couldn’t eat gum from the sidewalk.
“Sanna. I’ve known since we were kids that you should be my wife. It’s perfect. Our orchards are next to each other. Neither of us would even need to move—not really. Mom always said we’d make a great team and you know how she loves your trees. And now your dad is hurt, so I can help with your land, too. You can let Isaac go, and I’ll take care of all the finances. Mom says I’m wonderful at numbers. It makes perfect sense.”
Wow. He wasn’t proposing to her, he was proposing to her orchard. Sanna had stopped thinking about marriage years ago, but when she did used to dream of finding a good husband, the imaginary proposal always mentioned love and passion—not an actual land merger and her future spouse’s mother. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she could even find words to respond.
“Do you even like me, Thad?”
“You’re a little tall for me, but we’ve known each other a long time, and we’re a good fit.” When Anders had suggested they sell the orchard, she thought she had heard the craziest thing possible. This, this she couldn’t even comprehend, like string theory or why people liked candy corn. She started to speak, but he apparently wasn’t done. “Okay, I get it. You want a little romance, a good story.”
He took a knee in front of her and clutched her hand in his sweaty palms. He’d always had sweaty hands, even back in college. Sanna tried to pull her hand away to stop this farce from continuing, but he held firm.
“Sanna. Marry me. Your eyes are sparkly like blue diamonds, and your hair is soft. I love how you can handle heavy machinery without the help of a man. Let’s get married.”
She couldn’t listen to any more of this. She yanked her arm out of his grip—without the help of a man, good grief. This was why she’d dismissed dating years ago. She didn’t need this kind of frustration complicating her life.
“Thad. Stop. You’re being an idiot. I am not marrying you. Ever. Get it out of your head.”
She left him gulping air like a fish and pushed through the doors, straight into silver-haired Mrs. Dibble, who had evidently been watching through the window. Great, now all of Door County would know about that proposal disaster before the sun set. Fresh heat rose up her cheeks, rising until her eye twitched in irritation. As she stomped back to the waiting room, attempting to slow her breathing, she reminded herself that all that mattered was her dad getting better. With one more deep breath, she entered the room where Isaac and Bass quietly talked in the corner, Julie and the girls sat in another, and Anders paced.
“We need to seriously talk about this offer, Sanna,” Anders said, then realized she was alone. “Where’s Thad?”
“Gone.”
She could still feel her cheeks flushed with irritation as Isaac studied her face from where he sat. She didn’t want to think about what had just happened, let alone explain it to anyone. They would know soon enough. Thankfully, she was saved by a doctor.
“Are you the Lunds?”
Sanna turned to face him as he entered the room.
“Yes,” Anders said. He reached out his arm and took the lead in the conversation like he was the one in charge here.
“How is he?” Sanna made sure to stand even at her brother’s side and not one centimeter behind.
“He broke his wrist, cracked three ribs, lacerated his hand, and thumped his head pretty hard. The worst of the injuries was a full break of his fibula and tibia. They’re finishing up the surgery right now, and he’ll be moved to his room when he’s awake. At least the break was clean, so it should heal well. We’ll need to keep him for a few days and make sure there aren’t any other complications. Eventually he’ll be able to have a walking cast, but he’ll need to take it easy. Something tells me he won’t like that very much, so you’ll need to keep him in check. Assuming he listens to the instructions, he’ll make a full recovery or mostly full recovery. I’ll write up the instructions with his discharge papers.”
“Can we see him?” Sanna asked, rubbing the wood of her necklace relentlessly.
“After the nurses get him settled. Someone will come get you when he’s ready.”
Sanna nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. Pa would be okay. All the anger at Anders about the money, irritation at Gabby and Sarah for bullying Bass, the horror at Thad’s proposal evaporated. None of it mattered anymore. As soon as he got home, everything could return to normal.
• • • • •
During the doctor’s visit, Isaac had pulled Bass into the hallway, giving the family some privacy, but he was still able to hear every word.
“Do you think my hair is too long?” Bass whispered, struggling even to get the question out. Isaac’s little boy widened his eyes to dry the tears welling above his lower lashes without wiping them away. If Sanna hadn’t told those brats off, Isaac would go back in there and give them a piece of his mind. He tried hard not to judge other people’s parenting styles, but sometimes other people just did it wrong. He knelt down in front of Bass so he could look him straight in the face.
“I don’t. If you like your hair, then it’s perfect.”
Bass tucked his face into the top of his shirt to wipe away the extra wetness on his face, and Isaac gave him the moment. When he emerged, it was clear his mind had moved on. The two leaned against the wall. “We should probably head out.” Then Isaac remembered they didn’t have his car. He had started calculating the miles to walk back to the orchard when Sanna popped out of the room.
“We’re going to be here a while. Did you want to head back? You can take Elliot.”
“That would be great.”
The redness in her cheeks was gone. From the way she’d stormed back into the room, tightly controlled in her movements, he could tell something had happened between her and Thad, but she seemed okay now. Even relieved. Sanna dug in her jean pockets, then patted her back pockets. Her brows scrunched as she turned back to the waiting room. Isaac followed. She looked under all the chairs and poked in the cushions where she had been sitting.
“What are you looking for?” Anders asked.
“My keys.”
“What do they look like?”
“Keys.” Anders glared at her. “Two keys on a key ring.”
Anders joined Isaac, Bass, and Sanna to keep looking. Sanna stood and ran her hands through her hair.
“And you checked all your pockets?” Anders asked.
Sanna sighed but went through the motions of patting herself down, then paused as she hit the pocket on her plaid shirt. She reached in and pulled out the keys.
“And you want to run the orchard by yourself,” Anders said, and sat back down by his family. Sanna huffed and clenched her jaw instead of responding. She held the keys out to Isaac.
“Be good to him.”
As she set the keys in his hand, her fingertips grazed his palm. He resisted the urge to grasp her hand and not let go. Now wasn’t the time. But he could do everything in his power to make sure this woman didn’t need to sell her land that was clearly part of her.