Page 35 of Something About September

Headlights swung across the lawn then, and Melanie’s car pulled up. She waved but didn’t get out of the car. Moments later, his mother pulled away and Pip bounded up the driveway, backpack bouncing against his shoulders, his eyes wide. But his grin when he saw their progress was even wider.

He spotted Rebecca and his smile turned shy. “Hi, Becca. I didn’t know you were helping.”

“Couldn’t let your dad face the Great Pumpkin Crisis alone,” she said.

Cort chuckled. “Let’s keep this pumpkin alive.”

The three of them fussed with the coverings, Pip darting in with a flashlight to check for “frost leaks,” Rebecca smoothing the tarp, Cort securing the corners with bricks. At one point, Rebecca and Cort ended up crouched side by side, their shoulders pressed together as they adjusted the edge of the blanket. She felt the warmth of him seep through the chill night, and when she glanced up, his eyes were already on her.

“Looks good,” he said softly, though he wasn’t looking at the pumpkin, and she felt unmoored again.

Then Pip’s voice broke the moment. “Okay,” he declared, hands on his hips. “Pumpkin fortress is complete.”

Cort ruffled his son’s hair. “Good work, team.”

Rebecca brushed dirt from her palms. “Now what?”

Cort glanced at Pip. “What do you think? Do we recruit her for the full campout experience?”

“We do this at least once every year,” Pip said. He unzipped his backpack to reveal marshmallows and a flashlight. “Mom gave me these. Supplies.”

Cort had pulled a Solo Stove out from under yet another tarp. “Important piece of equipment. Keeps the pumpkin warm and toasts the marshmallows. Pumpkin watch is serious business.”

Pip beamed as though this was the best night of his life as his dad lit the fire, outside of the tarps and blankets. Then they sat around it, chatting and toasting marshmallows on sticks Cort had gathered. Rebecca asked Pip to tell her all about last year’s pumpkin.

“I think it deserved to win,” he said. “But the winning pumpkin didn’t have any spots at all. It was just pure orange—like this one is.” Now he frowned. “Which is why we have to take good care of it tonight.” He stood up from his camping chair and shone his flashlight over the patch. “Now we stand guard,” he said solemnly, turning his back to them. The firelight caught Rebecca’s amused smile and Cort’s raised brows. “Frost won’t dare mess with us.”

“Should we take shifts?” Rebecca asked, settling onto one of the blankets Cort had spread across the lawn.

Pip dropped beside her, shaking his head. “Nope. It’s better if we all stay awake together. That way the pumpkin knows it’s safe.”

“Well, actually,” Cort said, his tone firm but gentle. “Some people have school tomorrow, so at least some sleep is important, remember? We talk about this every year.”

Pip rolled his eyes, but soon he was yawning. “Will you make sure the pumpkin understands it’s safe, all night long?” he murmured as he started to drift off.

“Of course,” Cort said gently, tucking a second quilt over him. “I’ll tell it every hour.” Then he glanced at Rebecca. “It’s all very scientific.”

“You both have to stay,” he mumbled. “In case one of you falls asleep. You have to take shifts. Do you promise?”

Rebecca glanced at Cort. “You don’t have to,” he mouthed, but she shook her head. “Of course, Pip,” she said. “I promise.”

“Here,” Cort said, laying a puffy quilt on the ground, then handing her a sleeping bag. She snuggled into hers and looked up at the sky. The fire crackled in the crisp autumn night. Just past the edge of the tarp, the stars stretched in endless patterns. A firefly blinked once, then disappeared into the darkness. Cort laid his own quilt and sleeping bag down beside her, got inside, and put his hands behind his head as he gazed up at the sky. Silence settled over the garden. He was a few feet away, but she could still feel the warmth of him—and suddenly, it made her shiver.

He looked at her. “You’re freezing,” he said.

“No, I’m…” But she didn’t know how to describe what she was feeling. Flustered, she sat up, ostensibly to check on the pumpkin, to keep her promise to Pip. She focused on the hulking orange shape, listened to Pip’s even breaths. There was the rustle of leaves, the crackle of the tarp shifting in the breeze. She felt her heart settle and her own breathing return to normal. Then she heard Cort sliding out of his sleeping bag and standing up.

He nodded toward her sleeping bag, then his.

“We could zip them together,” he said. “They hold heat better that way.”

She looked up at him, then slid out of her own sleeping bag, murmuring an “Okay.”

The zipper made a soft, steady sound as he joined the bags, and when they slid inside, the shared warmth was immediate.

Rebecca let out a quiet breath. “That helps. I guess I was a bit cold.”

“I could tell,” he said, a faint smile in his voice.