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“Great. I was just telling Jack how much Emma loves his namesake.” Parker nods to something behind us, and I turn to see Junior and Faye making their way over.
“Hope you brought your best measuring tape, Parker,” Junior says. “It’s stiff competition this year. And nothing would do Rachel but to force poor Jack to join in.” He claps my shoulder.
“She’s good at talking people into things, isn’t she?” His face is still friendly, but there is definitely an undertone to his words. I push aside my rambling thoughts when Faye jumps in.
“We’ll let you get to measuring. We’ve got some pumpkins up on the porch to de-gut.” She motions for us to head up to the house, and Junior, Rachel, and I automatically obey. We know better than to argue with the family matriarch.
As we’re heading up the hill, she says, “Just call me with the results, if you don’t mind. I know you’re busy and have a lot of measuring to get done today. Bless your heart.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees.
I glance back to see him heading to the field, tail tucked between his legs. Evidently, he’s a bit afraid of her as well. As we all should be. I shake my head, laughing as we head up to the front porch of the house.
There are tools and pumpkins set out for us already, and as soon as Rachel and I claim ours, Faye glances at her watch. “Oh shoot, Junior. We have to run and grab our grocery pickup.”
“Well, you go right ahead. I’ll work on my pumpkin.”
She elbows him sharply in the side, then gives him a sweet, dewy smile. “I want you to drive me. We’ll grab some ice cream.”
That’s all the convincing he needs. “Alright, we’ll be back in a bit. Don’t you touch my pumpkin, Jack,” he warns me.
They head down to the driveway, bickering along the way, and I turn to Rachel.
“Guess it’s just me and you for now.”
“That’s fine. I think I can put up with you a little while longer. Now get to work. These pumpkins won’t carve themselves.”
We sit cross-legged on the porch, facing each other, and begin carving around the stems. I glance up at Rachel every now and then, entertained by her tongue sticking out just a bit as she concentrates on making the top of hers the perfect circle.
“Aha. Got it.” She looks over to me as if to check on my status, and I hurry to look down.
I haven’t even cut through the whole squash yet. I get to work, my hand shaking a bit under her gaze. When I finish, I pull the top off and set it to the side.
“Now it’s guts time.” Rachel digs in with both hands—she’s always loved this part.
I, however, am not as big of a fan. The slimy strands and wet seeds make me shudder a little. But I dig in as well, snarling my nose at the contact with my skin.
“Oh, don’t make that face. It’s not that bad,” she teases me. Both of her hands are full of guts, which she tosses on the giant plastic spread out beside us. “I can’t wait to roast these seeds. They’ll be delicious.”
“Yeah, when they’re not slimy anymore,” I grumble as I dig in again.
“Oh, someone’s a Negative Nancy today.” She digs out another handful, and I would reply, but I’m too busy trying not to gag at my own heap of innards.
She starts laughing harder, clutching her chest, and her face is locked on mine.
“What is so fucking funny?” I growl, shaking my guts onto the plastic and then taking a deep breath.
“Your face. I forgot how much you love this.” She gasps for breath, shaking her head. “Oh man.”
I dig out another handful of seeds and string, narrowing my eyes at her. Her pumpkin is empty now. She’s about to move on to carving her jack-o’-lantern’s face, but before she picks up that knife again, I’m going to get her back. I wasn’t the number one quarterback on my college team for nothing. I rear back my arm, and giving it all I’ve got, let it fly. Rachel looks up just as the seeds are eye level with her, and the whole mess splatters across her cheeks and forehead.
Now I burst out laughing as the stuff slides down her face. My chest hurts from laughing so hard, but she doesn’t seem nearly as amused. She glances at our discarded piles, and what she plans to do next is written all over her face.
We both move at the same time, grabbing at the discards and throwing them at each other. I get hit in the eye with a particularly dry seed, which catches me off guard, but otherwise we’re both pelting the other with the slimy pumpkin guts. She takes a step toward me, sliding in the mess and nearly losing her balance. I try to get to her, the battle momentarily forgotten, but I slide in it as well, and then we’re a pile of limbs, our legs and arms everywhere as we land in the leftover juices that cover the plastic. She looks over at me, trying to keep a straight face, but I can’t. I’m laughing so hard that tears start slipping down my cheeks.
“Oh, I see she’s made you cry too.” The voice makes us both jump, and I glance over to see Parker standing on the steps to the porch.
“Fuck, Parker.” I grab my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” The idea that he was watching us when we thought we were alone is a bit creepy.
