Page 34 of Something About September

“I need to cover them all up fast, with blankets, tarps. Then I rig a lamp under there to trap some heat. And then I stay outside with it all night and make sure it doesn’t get too cold.”

“Sounds like you’ve been through this before.”

His smile was wry. “Every year.”

“Do you need some help?”

“Actually, do you mind? Melanie’s going to bring Pip back so he can see that everything’s okay—normally we don’t do that, but during pumpkin season, all bets are off. I think he’d feel better if I had things well in hand before he got there.”

“Of course. Let’s go.”

—

The autumn night was clear, stars scattered across the velvet sky like diamond dust. The scent of woodsmoke drifted on the breeze, mingling with the soft rustle of dried leaves, as Rebecca and Cort drove through quiet streets, truck windows open to the night air. Porch lights glowed soft amber and decorative pumpkins shone orange and ghost white from stoops and stairs. Even though Rebecca knew Crispin’s strict bylaw enforcement was behind it, the town still looked sharp in its fall decorations. There were cornstalks tied to lampposts, wreaths of dried hydrangea and maple leaves, lanterns flickering in the dim light. All of it, Rebecca had to admit, was perfect.

“This is me,” he said, pulling into the driveway of a compact yellow-brick house with a wide porch and white railings. On the porch, a jumble of potted mums sat in the gentle shadows, while two lopsided scarecrows leaned companionably against the railing. When they got out of the truck and walked toward the house, Rebecca caught sight of a sprawling patch of gourds, their knobbly shapes clear in the light of the path of solar lanterns that led before them. She stood still and found herself shivering slightly, running her hands up and down her arms.

Cort paused and shrugged off his flannel shirt, giving it to her before she could protest. “It really is getting cold,” he said. “I can grab another one, inside.” She was instantly enveloped in the sawdust and herbal soap scent of him, in the warmth of the fabric that had just been against his body.

“What do you need me to do first?”

“If you could go in and grab the extra quilts from the storage bench just inside the front door, I’ll set up the tarps,” he said. “I’ll meet you out back.”

She pushed open the door, made of gray barn planks she imagined must have come from Kingman’s, and stepped inside. The small entranceway had built-in cubbies and hooks, hung with small sweaters and jackets that clearly belonged to Pip, and flannel shirts that were Cort’s, plus his leather jacket. She paused, breathed in, smelled the cedar sawdust and aftershave that were so familiar, and the warm, spicy smells of his house. The entrance led straight into a living room–dining room combination she could see had Cort’s imprint all over it. Dove-gray shiplap, a knotty pine ceiling, wide-plank wood floors. She found herself taking it all in, hungrily. Finding it was exactly as she had imagined a home Cort would create for himself to look and feel like—and also, that this was a place she felt comfortable in, wanted to be in. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the wall of bookshelves on one side of the living room, crammed full with multicolored volumes. Children’s art was framed on the wall, and a collage of family photos hung near where she stood. She looked at photos of Pip from babyhood until now, with Cort or with his grandparents, some with Brae. There was even one of Melanie, sitting on Santa’s lap with Pip, both beaming into the camera. Rebecca felt a twinge, looking at that photo—not of jealousy, but for Cort. This was his family, no matter the circumstances. She of all people understood the importance of that.

Rebecca stepped away, turned, and found the pine blanket box tucked against the opposite wall. Inside it were the promised quilts and blankets, all smelling of cedar and spice. She lifted them into her arms, breathed deep, and went outside to find Cort.

Chapter 22

Rebecca found Cort out in the yard, where the vegetable patch sprawled across the back corner of his property. Even in the dark, she could see the hulking orange shape of the giant pumpkin, like a wagon-sized jewel waiting to be polished for the fair. Its smooth surface glowed faintly under the porch light, the color so bright it looked as though it was a captured piece of sunset from earlier.

“Wow,” Rebecca said. “That thing’s the size of a small car. It could be Cinderella’s carriage.”

“Right? I do think there’s something magic about giants. And this is the biggest one we’ve ever managed,” Cort said, dragging an old tarp across the lawn. “But it’s also the most fragile. One hard frost and…poof. Dreams of first place are gone. Pip would be devastated. We got second place last year, and this year he thinks we really have a shot at number one.”

“What’s the prize?” Rebecca asked.

“A ribbon,” Cort said with a smile. “Bragging rights. A deep sense of giant pumpkin pride.”

“Definitely worth striving for,” Rebecca said, smiling back, helping him spread the tarp over the pumpkin.

“And the peppers?” she asked, pointing to the line of tall, spindly plants dotted with glossy red fruit.

“They get the blanket treatment, too.” He nodded toward a stack of folded quilts. “No tarp for them. Too delicate.” He raised an eyebrow as she stifled a laugh. “You think I’m kidding.”

“No. I can tell you’re very serious,” she said. “This is a side of you I never imagined seeing, back in high school.”

“What can I say? I’ve changed.”

Together they tucked quilts around the pepper plant stems, the chill in the air making Rebecca’s fingers stiff. Cort glanced up at her, his face shadowed but his eyes glinting with humor.

“Didn’t think you’d be spending your Monday night babysitting produce, did you?”

“Honestly?” she said, hugging her arms against the cold. “This is fun.”

“Want to stick around a little longer? We usually have a fire, roast marshmallows.”

“I’d love to.”