Rustic Hearts

Sophie

 

We had a big day. The pumpkin patch was so much fun.

 

“Look at this one, Miss Sophie! It’s as big as my head,” Beau exclaimed as he picked up a tiny pumpkin from among the others and raised it for me to see.

“It is, and look at your muscles. You’re so strong,” I praised.

“Momma, can I have this one?” he asked.

“Yes. Add it to our wagon,” Dallas said as she walked through the patch.

Between the three of us, we filled two wagons with pumpkins.

We got ourselves lost in a corn maze, picked three baskets of apples, had our faces painted, rode a tiny train around the orchard, and ate our weight in both apple cider and pumpkin-flavored doughnuts before I paid for our treasures as Dallas loaded a sleepy Beau into his car seat. Two burly teenagers packed our wares onto the truck with the crate of pie pumpkins we had picked out for Aunt Doreen earlier.

We drove around for a while, enjoying the fall foliage, while Beau napped.

The Colorado mountains sure were beautiful this time of year.

 

“I’m exhausted,” I say as I lay the sleeping child on the couch. I collapse beside him and close my eyes.

“Beau is a handful. He can wear you out,” Dallas says as she walks in the front door.

“You look all wide-awake and alert over there. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’m used to it. He’s been ru

“Touché.”

“Are we going to carve pumpkins tonight?” Beau asks as he eats his grilled cheese sandwich at the table.

Aunt Doreen and Aunt Ria are teaching Dallas and me how to make pumpkin pies from scratch. I’m covered with flour and rolling out dough as she checks the pumpkins that are roasting in the oven. Aunt Doreen is scooping the roasted flesh from the ones that have cooled, and Ria is mixing the eggs, milk, and spices.

“We can do it when we get home tonight,” Dallas answers as she pulls the pan from the oven.

“You can do it here,” I say as I lay the dough across the pie pan and trim.

“It’ll be messy.”

“I can get the boys to put a tarp down in the front yard,” Aunt Ria offers.

“I’ve haven’t carved a pumpkin in twenty years. I don’t think I even remember how.”

“See, Momma? Miss Sophie needs me to teach her how to do it,” he pleads.

“Are you sure? That means, you guys will have two more mouths to feed at di

“Jefferson is smoking ribs out on the grill. I’m making my broccoli casserole and mac ’n’ cheese.”

“Yay! Mac ’n’ cheese!” Beau approves of the menu.

Dallas looks over at him. “What do we say to Miss Doreen?”

“Thank you, Miss Doreen,” he says through a mouthful of grilled cheese.

“After you swallow, baby,” she scolds.

“Sorry, Momma.” He grins at her.

Daddy and Emmett cooked a mess of ribs and slathered them with Emmett’s homemade barbeque sauce.

“These are amazing,” I say as I lick the sauce from my fingers.

“Can I have another one, Miss Sophie?”

I look over at Beau, who is covered in sauce. It’s on his nose, his chin, both hands, and even in his hair. I grab another rib from the center of the table and plop it on his plate.

“The secret ingredient is cherry soda,” Emmett whispers to me through the side of his mouth.

“Can I know the other ingredients?” I ask.

“I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you,” he says with a wink.

“I’ve been trying to get him to tell me for years,” Aunt Doreen says as she nudges me with her elbow.

“All done.” Beau raises his sticky hands in the air. “Can we carve pumpkins now?” he asks Dallas.

“As soon as everyone else is finished. We haven’t had pie yet.”

“But I’m full of pie,” he whines.

Aunt Doreen kept sneaking him bites of pie filling all afternoon.

“We have to wait for everyone else to have theirs,” she tells him.

He deflates, but he doesn’t argue with his mother.

“I can eat pie later,” I say, and he smiles. “If you think you can talk Braxton and Walker into getting us that tarp before they have dessert, you and I can get started.”

“Please, Mr. Braxton,” he begs with his little sauce-covered hands folded in a prayer under his chin.

“You got it, little man. Go let Sophie wash you up, and we’ll meet you around front.”

“Yay!” He leaps from his spot at the table and runs toward the house.

I get up to follow him, and I get him washed up. Daddy gives me an old, raggedy sweatshirt to wear.

By the time we make it out front, Braxton and Walker are spreading the tarp in the drive and helping to bring our larger pumpkins down to the yard.

“Ew, look, Miss Sophie!” Beau pulls his hand from inside his pumpkin, and with it comes a bunch of clumpy goo covered in seeds.

“Yucky.” I fake disgust, and he giggles.

I draw a firefly on the front of a giant, oblong pumpkin and carve it so that its tail flickers with a candle lit inside.

“Damn, that’s gorgeous,” Dallas praises when I’m done.

“Whoa, Miss Sophie, that’s a big bug with wings. Cool!”

“It’s a firefly,” I tell him.

“What’s that?”

“You’ve never seen a firefly before?”

“No.”

“Colorado doesn’t have fireflies,” Dallas informs me.

“Well, they are these tiny beetles that come out at night, and as they fly, their butts glow, so other beetles can find them. When there are a bunch of them together at once, the entire park looks like stars are twinkling close to the ground. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Wow,” he says. “Momma, can we visit Miss Sophie and see their glowing butts?”

“Maybe we will one day, but for now, we have to help her get all this mess cleaned up and get you to bed. Someone has had a big day, and he has school tomorrow.”

“Me?” He points his thumb into his little chest.

“Yes, you,” she says as she starts to tickle him, and he curls up on the tarp in a fit of laughter.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll get Elle or the boys to help me clean all this up. You need to get him home and in a bath.”

“Are you sure? I hate to carve and run.”

“I’m sure. Just load him and your jack-o’-lanterns and get on the road.”

“I’m leaving mine here,” Beau says.

“You are?”

“Yes. I made it for you.” He picks up his hacked-up pumpkin and hands it to me.

“I love it so much. Thank you.”

“You can take it home with you, so you’ll remember me.”

I tap him on the nose. “As if I could ever forget you, Beau Stovall.”