CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As they drove through Sister Bay, one of the many small towns on the bay side of the peninsula, Isaac watched as the passing fields and orchards were replaced by charming houses and quaint shops. Banners announced the upcoming weekend’s Fourth of July fireworks and brat frys. Bass leaned forward as much as his seat belt would allow with his head on a swivel, soaking up all the new sights. Isaac noted the location of a baseball field where they could hit a few balls. A few people waved as Sanna drove by but she didn’t wave back. Perhaps they were confusing her with someone else. By the time Elliot eased into the parking lot for the Piggly Wiggly, a squat white building, Isaac knew that wasn’t the case—too many people had taken notice for it to be coincidental.
“Who are all those people?” he asked.
“What people?” Sanna looked around the parking lot as she pulled to a stop.
“The ones waving at you as you drive by?”
“I didn’t see anyone.”
“This is not reassuring me about your driving skills.”
Sanna shrugged.
“Do you know them?”
“They probably recognize the truck. It used to be Dad’s.”
As they walked into the store, Bass grabbed a cart and went straight for a display of chips. Isaac noticed as the other patrons reacted to Sanna. Some, clearly tourists, paused as they took in her height, their heads visibly tilting back. She seemed to ignore them, but slouched down a few inches anyway. An older gentleman stocking tomatoes nodded to her in recognition. She nodded back and aimed their trio toward the deli counter.
“Hey, Sanna,” the older woman behind the counter said. Her gray curls were tucked under a black hair net and her name tag read Bev. “How’s your dad?”
Sanna sighed. “Mrs. Dibble told you?”
Bev smiled and nodded. “She was buying him things he’ll need in the hospital.”
“He’ll be fine assuming he doesn’t push it.” Sanna perused the case and pointed to each item as she spoke. “Can I get a pound of ham, a half pound of cheddar, and a large container of the broccoli salad?”
Bev nodded but gave Isaac and Bass a glance, clearly curious about how they fit into the picture. Perhaps Mrs. Dibble hadn’t shared all the gossip. As they waited, Bass drove the cart around one of the nearby islands stocked with local cheese and sausages. Isaac reached out to stop the cart before he crashed into another shopper.
“You know, Mrs. Dibble is the one who gave me your dad’s name to contact for a job. I’m assuming she’s the same?” Isaac asked.
Sanna nodded. “Thank God there is only one Mrs. Dibble.”
Bev handed Sanna her items, plus an extra container of shocking blue fluff: blue raspberry Jell-O mixed with Cool Whip. Bass waggled his eyebrows in excitement.
“That’s on me,” Bev said when Sanna looked up at her. “Let us know if you need any help, dear.”
“Thank you. I’ll let Pa know it’s from you.”
They finished their shopping, filling the cart with frozen dinners and pizzas, jarred sauce and pasta, and hot dogs, plus a box of Pop-Tarts for Bass, who insisted on holding it in one hand as he pushed the cart with the other. As they checked out, the cashier gabbed about local goings-on while Sanna stared out the window.
“I hear the fireworks are going to be the best yet. Bev said some company from Illinois contributed extra money. Looks like the rain they were promising is going to hold off, too. Maybe you can take your visitors? Show them how we do it up for the Fourth.”
Even if Sanna didn’t seem to embrace them back, it was clear the locals thought of her as one of theirs. Isaac smiled at the man warmly as he took the groceries so Sanna wouldn’t have to carry them.
Driving back toward Idun’s, Sanna clucked her tongue as she slammed the brakes when a family of four walked into the street, even though there was a crosswalk at the end of the block, then scowled at the construction of a hotel on the outskirts of town.
“Not your favorite time of year?” Isaac asked.
“There’s a reason I don’t leave the orchard much. Without visitors, we couldn’t keep Idun’s, but do they have to be so oblivious to the world around them? Most just cross the street without looking, eat at the fancy restaurants, and forget to look outside and see what’s right there.” She pointed at the rocky harbor and tree-lined shores. “They’re missing it.”
“So winter is better?”
“It’s a lot quieter. Some of the speed limits are bumped up—which is nice. I read a lot more. When there’s a blizzard, it can feel like you’re the only person left in the world. I miss the trees, but I do get to spend more time with my cider.”
This was more like it. Finally, Isaac was getting to know her a little better. She was opening up.
“Do you get so much snow you can’t open your door to get outside?” Bass asked.
“Not recently. But I remember a few times when I was little, we would open the door after a big blizzard and it was a sheer wall of snow. The wind had blown just right to create a giant snowdrift. My dad had to climb out a window to get a shovel and dig us out.”
“Baller.”
Sanna shook her head and smiled at Bass’s reaction.
“Baller, indeed.”
Isaac wanted to hear more stories from her childhood—he wanted to know why he found her alone in the orchard instead of at the hospital with her dad, what she had ever seen in Thad, and why she so clearly preferred solitude when an entire county of people seemed to care about her. As she turned into the orchard parking lot, he noticed the small dragon keychain dangling from the ignition. So she’d liked it—he wasn’t sure she would. Pleasure that a little part of him was now in her life warmed his chest.
• • • • •
Sanna rolled the dingy sheets off the bed in the guest room, careful to keep the dust from jumping off the material. After doing the same with the ones covering the chair, dresser, and lamps, she plugged in the lamp and set the fresh bedding on the end of the mattress.
“Can I help?” Julie stood in the room. Sanna shrugged. They’d known each other twelve years, but if Julie had been paying attention, she’d have known that company was not what Sanna wanted. Julie grabbed the fitted sheet and fluffed it out so Sanna could grab the other end, both tucking in their corners. “Thanks for getting the rooms ready.”
Sanna shrugged. “Anders doesn’t know where anything is anyway.”
Julie’s jaw twitched, but she stayed silent as Sanna tossed her the flat sheet.
“He’s a good man.”
Sanna stopped straightening her half of the sheet and stared at Julie. Julie looked down at the bed and fidgeted with the edge she held in her hands.
“I wouldn’t know. He left. Just like the Donor.”
She knew Julie would know who she was talking about. At least Anders would have clued her in about that. She finished tucking her end and jammed pillows into their cases, tossing a few at Julie. They finished spreading the comforter in silence.
Sanna scooped up the cloths, holding her breath to keep from inhaling the dust, and dumped them in the basket waiting in the common area. There were four such areas in this part of the house—a center room surrounded by three bedrooms and a bathroom, then a hallway that led to the neighboring common area. A set of stairs led to a similar floor plan on the second story. This arrangement allowed for each family to have some privacy and unity, while being able to join together in the great rooms. When she was little, her grandparents lived down the hall and she lived here, with Anders, her dad, and the Donor. This was where she had lived until Anders moved to Green Bay.
Growing up, she’d always envisioned her and Anders each getting married and taking over their own pods, filling up the house with laughing children. She’d hoped to have four little ones, at least. Maybe she and her husband would take over the second story because they had so many children. All those plans, already damaged by the Donor’s departure, cracked completely when Anders didn’t return after graduation. The cracks spread, then broke into nothingness by the time she came home from college, no longer the whimsical wood sprite her father had once called her as a child.
Sanna picked up a second pile of bedding and went into the next room, the room that had once been hers. A faded poster of the four Hogwarts houses still hung on the wall next to a framed picture of her and Anders hanging upside down from one of the Looms by their legs. She used to love that picture and hadn’t seen it in years. Julie had started to carefully pull off the sheets and drop them into the basket outside the door.
“I’m sorry about your dad. I know how close you are with him.”
Sanna refrained from sighing—I guess they were going to make small talk. Her favorite.
“Thanks.” She tucked the fitted sheet around the mattress on her side, while Julie finished her side. “The girls are getting big.”
“Like weeds. I’m already getting flickers of what they’ll be like as teenagers. It’s scary. They’ve always been okay with sharing, but now they insist on having their own everything. Good thing the new house has extra bedrooms.”
Why did Julie think Sanna wanted to know this?
“The girls will need to share. I’m not making up more rooms,” Sanna said.
Julie nodded.
“That’s fine. They’d prefer that in a strange house.”
Sanna’s nostrils flared.
“It wouldn’t be strange if you ever visited.”
Julie’s face darkened.
“Not everyone wants to be trapped here.” Julie exited the room, leaving those loaded words echoing. Sanna finished making the bed by herself, focusing on the repetitive motions so she could ignore the memories of the last time someone had said that to her.
She heard Anders’s heavy footsteps before she saw him.
“What did you do? Julie looked really upset.”
Julie hadn’t told him the details of their conversation. Yet. She straightened the duvet, smoothing out the wrinkles that were no longer there.
“You can yell at me all you like. Do not upset my wife and daughters. Ever.”
Sanna nodded. She couldn’t fault him for defending his family, no matter what she thought of him and his choices. At least he had that right. She took the photo of them off the wall. Pressure built behind her eyes and swallowing became harder.
“Remember when we were little and we used to stay in the trees past dark?” Her voice cracked from holding back her sadness, so Anders finished her thought.
“Pa would bring us dinner so we wouldn’t need to come in until the last possible minute.” He smiled at the memory.
“Why didn’t you want your girls to have that, too?”
Anders took the picture from her, glanced at it, and set it on the dresser. His eyes looked sad.
“Your whole life is built on changes. Seasons changing, apples changing from juice to cider, trees changing. Why has this change always been so hard for you?”
“It doesn’t count when I know the change is coming. The changes I don’t plan for are the ones that I hate. Like today.” Her lip trembled so she bit it.
Anders pulled her into a hug, and Sanna rested her chin on his shoulder. It was nice to be close to him. He used to be her best friend in everything and now she barely knew him.
“You don’t have to go through anything alone. I’m here.”
“Until you go back to Green Bay.” A few minutes ago, those words would have had a sharp edge, but now they were merely sad.
“You and Pa could come visit when he’s better. You might just like it.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“I should get back to the hospital, see how Pa’s doing. If we leave him there alone too long, Mrs. Dibble will start pestering him.”
“Pa’s not getting any younger, Sanna, whether you like it or not. Just meet with Eva. She has a lot to offer. It’s only coffee.”
Sanna wanted to say no. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to, but she didn’t.
“I don’t drink coffee.”
Anders chuckled. He knew he had won.
“You can have tea.” He pulled away and looked at her. “Just hear what she has to say.”
She took a deep breath, proud of herself for not letting any tears fall. Too much had happened in one day. When she woke up that morning, the thought of selling Idun’s had never crossed her mind, and now . . .
“Fine, set it up. Let me know where and when.”