Chapter 7
Hannah
I stand there for a moment, purse in my hand. Kyle hefts the giant pumpkin out of the back of the truck like it weighs no more than a bag of flour. I follow behind with the medium-sized one balanced against my hip, while Ivy toddles along proudly hugging her little pumpkin like it’s a new pet.
By the time we reach the porch, I’m out of breath and silently cursing myself for agreeing to Ivy’s pick.
“I knew we should’ve chosen pumpkins I could actually carry myself,” I mutter, setting mine down with a soft thud.
Kyle grins, his freckles bright against the late afternoon sun. “Happens all the time. People’s eyes are bigger than their arms.” He winks at Ivy. “Besides that one’s a champion pumpkin. Needed a champion lift.”
Ivy beams. “See, Mommy? I told you it was the best one!”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You win this time, kiddo.”
Kyle sets the huge pumpkin on the porch to the side. He straightens, brushing dirt from his hands. “All taken care of. Enjoy your pumpkin patch trophy.”
“Thank you, Kyle. Really!”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Part of the job. You and Ivy have a good night.” And with a little wave, he hops back down the steps and disappears toward his truck.
Ivy plops cross-legged beside the pumpkins, already chattering about how hers will have triangle eyes and a big toothy grin.
I let her talk while I unlock the door, then usher her inside and set our jackets over the chair.
The house smells faintly of cinnamon from the candle I lit this morning.
Immediately, it makes me wonder what I’ll make for dinner.
I busy myself in the kitchen, pulling out chicken and noodles for dinner. The ordinary rhythm of boiling water and chopping vegetables usually calms me, but not tonight. Not with my mind circling back to him.
Levi … the big, broad-shouldered train engineer, almost too large for that little cab he guided so easily. His voice is an imprint in my mind – the timbre low and deep. I felt something just in the brief touch of my fingers brushing his huge hand when he gave me those tickets.
I catch myself smiling into the steam rising from the pot, and I hate it. This is dangerous ground. I’ve been here before – letting myself lean into the warmth of a man’s attention, only to discover it was false, built on lies, and fleeting as the steam rising from this pot.
Jake had been such a let-down. I thought we’d build a life together. He promised forever. But it all collapsed one morning with four words: I’m leaving for her. He packed up, drove five states away, and never once looked back.
The anger still stings, but it’s the betrayal that haunts me most. Not just of me, but of Ivy. He left her without so much as a backward glance, no bedtime stories, no pumpkin patch, nothing. Every time she asks what happened to her daddy, my chest caves in a little more.
I grip the wooden spoon tighter, forcing air into my lungs. I can’t risk that again. Not for me, not for her.
I step into the living room and watch Ivy drawing pumpkins on scrap paper, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth in concentration. Through the window, the giant pumpkin sits proud on the porch, glowing orange in the fading light like some ridiculous gift we don’t deserve.
Levi put that there. Not with his own hands, maybe, but with his generosity. He didn’t have to. That’s what scares me most. It wasn’t duty. It was a choice.
“Mommy?” Ivy looks up suddenly, her crayon paused mid-line. “Do you think the train man will come see our pumpkin?”
I force a laugh, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.
“He’s busy running the festival, honey. He’s got a lot on his plate.”
She nods, satisfied, and goes back to her drawing.
That’s when I notice my throat feels tight and my mind a little hopeful. The truth is, I want him to. I want him to knock on that door, to see the pumpkin glowing there, to prove me wrong about men and the way they always leave.
I almost want to smack myself. I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore!