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“Go apple picking! There’s a farm outside of New Gothenburg, and you boys could pick a bunch. This afternoon I can make pie and applesauce. It’s that time of year!” She glanced between us, eyes twinkling.
Wy smirked and it turned into a wide shit-eating grin that made me want to slap my palm to my forehead.
“How long will that take?” I asked.
She slurped her coffee and a thinking furrow puckered her forehead. “Oh, only a couple of hours. Maybe we could get lunch somewhere.”
What did she think she was going to get out of this? Dad didn’t give a shit if I liked her or not, but her smile seemed genuine, and I was beginning to feel like the bad guy, so I sighed and nodded.
“Wow,” Wy said, staring at me.
I gave him a death glare back, which Elissa pretended not to notice.
“I hope they have Northern Spy apples. They’re the best pie apples,” she said, jamming her fork decisively into a square of pancake.
About two hours later, I was standing on a rickety stepladder with Wy on one next to me, grabbing apples from overhead while Elissa beamed up at us from the bottom of the tree with a big round basket next to her feet. She was all wrapped up in a brown cardigan and did a little dance each time an apple landed in the basket.
She bounced on her toes. “Hurry up, boys! It’s colder out here than I thought it would be.”
Sighing, I took off my Polar Storms jacket and let it flutter down to her, and Wy gave me a long look out of the corner of his eye as she caught it, laughing. She slipped it on. He glanced at my arms because now I was only in a red T-shirt.
“I could’ve done that,” he snarked before passing apples down to his mother.
I shrugged. Ah, this was good. I liked that I could irritate him by being nice as much as I could by being a dick, and this way didn’t make me feel quite as bad. I winked at him, and his eyes widened.
“Well, I figured out how to make you behave,” he said under his breath.
But I caught the words and my face heated.
“What was that you said, honey?” Elissa called up.
“Nothing, Mom. I saw a yellow jacket. Be careful. You’re allergic.”
She groaned. “I know I am.”
“Me too,” I said.
He stared at me with big eyes. “Then why are you up here?”
I glanced all around, grabbing another apple that I tossed into the basket so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “They’re more likely to be down on the ground with the rotten apples that fall off the tree.”
He frowned at me, then Elissa. “Well, shit. Mom, no more fruit picking.”
She laughed and waved her hand at him. “It’s been seventeen years since I was stung. You don’t even remember it.”
He grumbled under his breath, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Another half hour passed, and when the bushel basket was full, I picked it up so we could go back to pay. I held my breath as we got over to the red barnlike building because there were a bunch of yellow jackets flying around outside near a compost pile. We went inside. On our right was a row of large windows that showed workers loading apples into a stainless steel cider press. To the left there was a small counter with a register and a slushie machine full of cider. In a glass case were other products, including caramel and candied apples, and farther down was a cooler full of gallons of cider.
“Oh, I want one,” Wy said, pointing at the slushie machine, and Elissa laughed. We ordered one for everyone, and I went out to the car to put the apples in the trunk. When I got back, Wy and Elissa were outside at a picnic table with their slushies. I sat down next to Wy, and he slid a huge paper cup toward me. I sipped and hummed at the bright burst of apple goodness as it hit my tongue.
“They had hot cider, too, but I figured it wasn’t quite cold enough for that,” Elissa said, and she kept talking because she was the kind of person who seemed to need a running commentary. She and Wy discussed everything and nothing at all, and I spaced out.
I didn’t worry about my allergy often, but a yellow jacket began to walk across the table, and I froze up.
“Shit.” Wy slapped his hand down on the bug.
My heart almost stopped.
