With the afternoon sun bright overhead, Jake watched Stevie and Lily pile small pumpkins into a cardboard box. They were standing in the field of harvested pumpkins, in a field a quarter mile behind the house. The girls seemed all right, so he quit looking and started back to work, hauling two basketball-sized pumpkins to the flatbed trailer he'd attached to the farm truck.
It'd gotten warm enough that he'd shed his flannel shirt earlier. He'd caught Stevie eyeing his T-shirt, which had Newton's Law of Cooling printed on it. He might as well have worn a kick the nerd sign on his chest.
He and the girls had spent all afternoon hauling the gourds from the field to the barn and carefully packing the smaller ones in boxes. Over the next couple of days—the entirety of his break from teaching at the university—he'd send some of the pumpkins to locals who frequented different farmers' markets. The rest he'd sell from here, like he did the peaches and blackberries they grew throughout the summer months. He'd built a little open shelter off the front of the barn and hired some teens from town to handle the cash exchange a few afternoons a week.
Stevie hadn't slept. She'd been inside for maybe thirty minutes before she'd joined him and Lily out by the barn.
From his own experience, he'd guess that grief overwhelmed her if she tried to relax enough to get to sleep. He'd been there once, after he'd lost his brother. Jake had only been fifteen at the time, his first experience with gut-wrenching grief.
Once she'd told him why she was there, everything had fallen into place, like finding a clever change of variables in an equation. For a brief window, he'd believed she'd come to him because she missed him. That somehow, she regretted what had happened that day.
But it hadn't been that at all. She'd remembered that he'd lost his brother.
Everything was clear now, but it still stung a little that his hopeful hypothesis had been wrong.
At least this way he knew what the expectations were up front—on his end, he'd offer her friendship and what comfort he could.
The late afternoon breeze ruffled Stevie's hair. The sun was a huge sinking ball at the horizon, and shadows lengthened. It had cooled significantly since she'd come out in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans earlier. She'd tried to lie down for a bit, but the moment she'd closed her eyes, grief crowded in.
"One more load," Jake called out.
Stevie picked up a pumpkin the size of her first TV and trudged to the flatbed trailer to deposit it.
No doubt her back and legs would be aching tomorrow, but something about the physical effort felt...right.
Nearby, Lily piled teensy baby pumpkins into a cardboard box. She'd filled probably twenty others like it as they'd worked all afternoon.
It certainly wasn't ground-breaking work. It was repetitive, filling and re-filling the trailer, then unloading the pumpkins and sorting them into piles in front of the barn.
Jake was a pumpkin farmer.
It was bizarre.
She passed Jake as he carried two large pumpkins to the trailer. The muscles in his bare arms stood out in stark relief. She swallowed hard and looked away.
The trailer's surface was already more than three-quarters full. They were almost done.
Within minutes, they'd loaded the trailer full of pumpkins, and Jake settled Lily onto the back of the trailer.
Stevie stood on her tiptoes and pushed her rear up onto the trailer.
Jake glanced at her and nodded, then moved to get in the truck, leaving Lily—sort of—in her care. Would he do that, if he knew?
Moments later, the truck started with a low growl and a burst of exhaust that momentarily overpowered the fresh air and ripe pumpkins.
The truck audibly kicked into gear, and Jake started off at a slow roll back toward the house and barn.
She breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of the grass and the land and the sharp scent of autumn.
The farmland breathed life back into her in the quiet moments as she rode beside a silent Lily on the back of the trailer. Grasses brushed her feet but not Lily's as Jake navigated around the corner of the peach orchard toward the barn.
Being out here soothed her. Sienna would have loved it.
The jagged brokenness in Stevie's chest opened wide, and she swallowed rapidly.
"Didja bring your guitar?" Lily asked. "Uncle Jake said you're a singer." The little girl had barely spoken to Stevie all day, but Stevie had heard the girl chattering to her uncle. Probably Stevie had scared her with her meltdown in the kitchen earlier.
"No, I didn't." Where usually she heard music in everything, all of that had shut down since she'd received the news.
"We listen to your songs sometimes on the radio." The girl's head tilted to one side as she assessed Stevie. "You're a good worker."
The abrupt change in topic surprised Stevie. She exhaled sharply, stifling the laugh that wanted to erupt. "Thanks." The little girl sounded so grown up.
She looked a lot like her uncle. Inquisitive blue eyes, wavy blonde hair cascading from her ponytail. How had he come to have custody of Lily?
"I like helping uncle Jake. He works hard all the time. Even in the summer when everyone's off school."
Jake had been the same back in high school. He'd known what he wanted and worked hard—often working ahead—to get it.
"Do you like school?" Stevie asked. Sienna hadn't. Stevie had thought of homeschooling her. Taking her on the road. She'd been touring for more than five years. She'd grown accustomed to the long stretches on a tour bus. Figured it would be bonding time for them.
"I like my teacher," Lily said, breaking Stevie out of dangerous thoughts.
She welcomed the distraction.
One positive thing had resulted from coming here: her curiosity about Jake and his niece had allowed her to focus on something other than the tragedy she'd been running from.
Stevie paused at the first-floor landing, one hand on the stair railing. She could hear Jake and Lily's voices from the kitchen where they must have been preparing supper, if the banging pots and running water were any indication.
The afternoon had been...pleasant. The outdoors felt huge, wide enough for her to keep some distance from Jake and Lily. And the activity of hauling the pumpkins had given her hands something to do.
But the kitchen table would be small. Intimate. She wasn't sure she could face Jake and Lily across the dining room table without breaking into tears again.
She checked her phone out of habit. No new notifications. Zack had left two messages earlier, frustrated she'd disappeared.
Instead of joining Jake and Lily she wandered in the opposite direction. A large living room took up the east corner of the home. It had friendly windows on both corners. Mornings in here would be bright and cheerful. A TV was attached to the wall above the red-brick fireplace. A comfortable-looking L-shaped sofa bracketed the room. A soft throw was folded on top of one corner.
Across the coffee table were scattered several children's books. A pair of shoes hid between the coffee table and the sofa.
It was comfortable, lived-in.
She loved it. Felt at home here, not like the apartment she saw only a few weeks out of the year. Jake's place reminded her of the idyllic childhood that seemed so far away now. If only her mom and dad were still around. They might've understood her grief.
She turned her back on the living room and almost forced her feet to take her down the hall to the kitchen, but at the last second, she delayed again.
On the opposite side of the living room stood French-style doors, which led to another room. One of the doors was slightly ajar, and she slipped inside, flipping on the light to disperse the shadows.
It was Jake's office.
Here was the piece of the man she'd been missing since this morning. A large oak desk sat in one corner, angled so he had a view of both the picture window that looked out over the property and the doors—no doubt he sometimes worked in here while Lily played in the living room. A full bookshelf spanned the wall behind the desk, which was bare except for the closed laptop.
She had a strange urge to look in the drawers. She'd bet every pencil was in place. She didn't give in to the urge, only allowing herself to touch the corner of his desk. It was cool and solid.
Along the far wall hung three huge whiteboards, covered in equations. She couldn't make heads or tails of it, but her eyes traced the lines of letters and numbers and symbols she didn't even recognize.
Movement from the hallway turned her head. Jake was there, his eyes assessing from behind his glasses.
"I found your office," she said.
"So you did."
"Are you just doing the farming, or...?"
Without the hat and in his stocking feet, he looked more like the teen she remembered. He riffled his hair with one hand. "I'm a professor at the university in Weatherford. Physics and freshman chemistry."
A small laugh burbled out. Followed by a sharp pain just behind her breastbone.
Was that the first time she'd laughed since Sienna's death?
He seemed to understand her swinging emotions and waited while she breathed through the pain.
"You're a professor." She cleared her throat when the words wanted to stick. Of course he was. "So when you said you were on fall break, you meant the both of you."
"Yep."
She nodded to the whiteboards. "And that's something you're working on in your spare time?"
"Something like that."
She wondered how many papers he'd authored. Was he a PhD? There was no plaque on the wall, but he wasn't pretentious like that. And anyway, something like that would probably hang on the wall of his office at the university.
"It looks—"
"Nerdy."
She smiled, and again, the feeling felt abnormal after so many tears. "I was going to say amazing. Or maybe intense."
His mouth twisted to one side, as if intense were an insult rather than a compliment.
"You got me through Mr. Pearson's class," she reminded him.
A light in his eyes dimmed.
It bothered her. "Why aren't you down at OU, or even...Berkeley. Isn't that one of the cutting edge schools for physics?"
"I've got commitments here. And there's always the Internet when I need to consult with someone long-distance."
He jerked his head toward the kitchen, indicating the conversation was over. "We shouldn't leave Lily to her own devices for too long. You coming?"
She was the guest in his house, which left her little choice but to follow.
In the kitchen, Lily was standing on a chair at the counter, working away. As she neared, Stevie saw the girl was decorating three personal-sized pizzas, making smiley faces out of pepperonis.
"Do you like pepperoni, Miss Stevie?" the girl asked.
"Love it."
"It's our favorite." Lily turned from the counter with a flourish and wobbled on the edge of the stool. Jake was right there to catch her, slinging his arm around her waist and whirling her in a circle with a whoop before he set her on her feet.
He mussed Lily's hair, then gave her a gentle push out of the way before he opened the oven and slid the pizza pan in.
The girl whirled to music in her own head, bringing a lump to Stevie's throat. She cleared it with a harrumph. "Can I set the table?"
"Sure," Lily said. "I'll show ya where the plates are."
The little girl grabbed Stevie's hand, and she jumped at the contact. Lily didn't seem to notice as she tugged Stevie to the cabinet just to the side of the kitchen window.
"Up there."
The girl let go, and Stevie instantly missed the contact of that sweaty little hand.
As she reached for three plates, Lily opened a nearby drawer, and silverware clinked.
They went to the dining room table, which seated six, and set out the plates where Lily advised her to. The girl wanted them all to sit at one end of the table. Close. Like a family.
Jake brought in a large bowl of salad and two bottles of dressing.
"Uncle Jake says we should eat our veggies first."
Stevie's glance went to the man. "Does that make them more palatable?"
"Sometimes," he returned. "If they're cooked and you eat them while they're warm, they won't get slimy." He pulled out Stevie's chair for her as Lily slid into the seat at the head of the table. "Pizza should be done by the time you ladies finish your salads." He sat down across from Stevie. On the wall behind him hung a series of photos of him and Lily together in different poses. Some serious with real smiles, and some silly. Her eyes caught on the furthest, where it appeared Lily had wrestled her uncle to the ground atop a quilt. The photographer had caught them both mid-laugh.
"Are we gonna make something slimy at the Halloween party tomorrow night?" Lily asked, bringing Stevie's focus back to the meal.
Jake's head tipped to the side as he considered his niece. "Maybe."
"Our Halloween party is so fun, even though it's not Halloween night yet." Lily's words bubbled over as Jake dished out a good-sized portion of baby spinach leaves, green lettuce, and matchstick carrots onto her plate. "Uncle Jake is the mad scientist, and all my friends think he's sooo funny."
"A mad scientist, huh?" Stevie crunched into her bite of salad.
She was surprised to see the tips of Jake's ears turn red. Was he embarrassed by Lily's gushing?
"This is only the second year I'm doing it—it's fun for the kids." He seemed to be defending himself. "We've sold pumpkins the last four years, and lots more of the local farmers bought their pumpkins here last year instead of at the super store over in Weatherford."
"Why do you farm if you've got a job teaching?" Stevie asked. She'd have thought a professor's salary would be plenty for the two of them to live on.
"My mom's coming home soon," Lily said. "And the pumpkin harvest and the peaches and blackberries are a nice sup-supplemental income."
Coming home?
The second part of Lily's sentence sounded like she'd heard it repeated time and time again, but Stevie's thoughts fixed on the first part. She'd been out of town for too long. If she'd stayed, she'd surely know what the girl meant—Redbud Trails was notorious for its gossip—but Stevie hadn't a clue.
Jake caught her eye and shook his head slightly. Whatever it was, he didn't want to talk about it in front of Lily.
"I'll go check on the pizzas." Jake pushed back from the table and returned to the kitchen.
"Uncle Jake said you were friends when you were in school," Lily said. She fiddled with her fork, not eating her salad.
"We were." They'd been peripheral friends, mostly becoming close when he'd tutored her.
"I've got lotsa friends, but Avery is my best friend."
The girl didn't seem to stop talking.
Stevie looked at Lily's plate, where the girl was scooting pieces of her food around with her fork. She must really dislike vegetables.
Then Stevie realized what Lily was doing. The carrot pieces outlined a face and slashed a smile. Lily had used two olives for eyes, and lettuce made up the hair.
"Do you like making faces with your food?" And did Jake allow it?
"I like art," Lily said simply, concentrating on her plate. "I'm good at it."
Was this what supper with Sienna would've been like? The thought closed Stevie's throat, and she had to set her fork on the table.
She'd gone the last five—maybe ten minutes without thoughts of Sienna intruding. Was it a betrayal of everything she was grieving to enjoy this supper with Lily?
Her emotions were so confused, so raw that she didn't know what was right anymore.
Only that Sienna should be here with her, and she wasn't.