Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
JOSH
Halloween in Manhattan could be fun, with kids running up and down condo hallways and meeting neighbors you barely knew existed, but it was nothing like the holiday I remembered growing up. Even before I was old enough to trick-or-treat without adult supervision, it was exciting to be outside past bedtime. To see the houses transformed by colored lights and spooky decorations, even to be frightened by scary costumes.
I’ve been determined to give my kids as much of the smalltown Halloween experience as possible, so when I got a newsletter from Bedd Fellows Farm announcing the mid-September kickoff of their pumpkin patch, I figured it’d be a great way to get us all in the mood. Since my dad’s out of town for a golf tournament this weekend, I ask my mom if she wants to visit the farm with me and the kids Saturday morning.
But she begs off, pointing to her ankle. “I’ll just slow you all down.”
My mom’s in a boot and pretty mobile around the house, so I hadn’t even thought about the challenges the farm might present. “Do you want us to stick around here? It’ll be happening all next month too.”
She waves this down. “I’ve got a good book to read. Just bring me back a treat.”
As the kids and I get dressed, I impulsively call Avery and invite her to join us instead.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
The tentativeness in her voice has me pushing harder. “Of course. You think I can keep up with both of these monsters on my own?”
I’m relieved to hear her laugh. “Are you speaking literally? Are Percy and Mabel dressing up as monsters?”
“No costumes required.” I drop my voice. “Unless you want to go for the sexy milkmaid, that is.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she purrs in a tone that heats me to my core, making me worry that I’m playing with fire.
Twenty minutes later, we pull up in front of Avery’s house. Before I can get to the door, she steps through it and my mouth goes dry as I take in skintight jeans tucked into boots and the plaid shirt tied at the waist revealing a hint of pale skin. “Forget sexy milkmaid,” I mutter. “I’ll take sexy cowgirl any day.”
The minute we get to the pumpkin patch, Mabel drags Avery to see the star of Bedd Fellows Farm, a sheep called Baabara Streisand. I hear the woolly animal lives in some sort of pet palace up by the house, but at the moment she’s posing for photos with fans.
Meanwhile, Percy runs in the other direction. I just manage to catch him before he clambers onto a pile of pumpkins. “Whoa, boy. I think this is a you break it, you buy it situation.”
“Actually, this is the pumpkin mountain.” Sam Bedd appears next to me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “So many kids wanted to climb on the pumpkins we just made it a thing. Go for it, little man.”
Another preschooler joins Percy, and as Sam and I watch them in silence, I remember that my old roommate was always easy to just hang out with.
“Do you ever feel like a fraud?” With anyone else, I’d have to work my way up to this question. But this is how Sam and I talked. We could be working in our room for hours and one of us would throw out a random question. Even now, it doesn’t seem weird to bring up something that would be embarrassing with anyone else.
As expected, Sam doesn’t question the question. “You mean that thing where you think someone’s going to walk in your office and say, ‘You have no idea what you’re doing. Get out.’ That thing?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. Except it’s not just in the office. It’s everywhere.”
Sam’s gaze follows Percy, now trying to move a pumpkin half his size. “Well, nothing prepares you for parenting all by yourself, I’m sure. And you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that.”
“Maybe. Better than I did when Lisa was still around, ironically. At least I’m present.”
“And she wasn’t?”
“Not on purpose. She was… depressed.”
“That must have been hard.”
“I think it was. She never really let me in.”
Sam’s dog wanders up, and he squats to scratch behind Gomer’s ears. After a long moment of staring into the dog’s eyes, he looks up at me. “It wasn’t your job to fix her, you know.”
“Yeah,” I say, even though I still believe I should have been able to.
“Anyway, I meant that it must have been hard on you and the kids.”
“It was definitely hard on them. I know they miss her, but they are happier now. Without that… I don’t know, weight in the house.”
“So what’s this feeling like a fraud thing about, then?”
“You know I’ve never had a job interview? I’ve had two positions just handed to me. Both times, because of Lisa.”
“Are you sure this isn’t one of those You didn’t go to a real Ivy League, you just went to Cornell kind of things? Because that’s some dumb bullshit.”
Lisa did manage to work our degrees into more than one conversation—that she graduated from Yale while I just attended one of Cornell’s state colleges—but that wasn’t the real problem.
“In New York,” I continue, “her family used their connections to get me my first job so we could be closer to them. Because I got her pregnant.”
“Well, there must’ve been more to it than?—”
“And then Eli felt sorry for me and created this job for me at Trede.”
Sam shrugs. “Lots of people get hired because of connections. Most people get a leg up one way or another.”
“Did you?”
“Uh, no. But my job does require a pretty specific skill set.”
“Exactly. I have no skills.”
“Did you get fired from your first job? Because you were incompetent?”
“No. I left. My kids needed me.”
“So, you must’ve had some aptitude for what you were doing. Nepotism is real, but unless you’re the owner’s firstborn, you can’t let the milk go bad. You’ve got to churn some butter.”
“Is that a new saying I’m unaware of?”
“Nah, I’m just hungry.” He slaps his belly. “Anyway, when it comes down to it, all you can do is your best. That’s what I’m working on anyway. I don’t have to be good at everything or know how to do everything. I just have to know enough to ask the next question. And be humble enough to get help when I need it.”
“Where’d you learn this philosophy? Your new girlfriend?”
“Don’t tell Diane”—he leans closer and lowers his voice—“but I learned it from my dog.”
Before I can ask what he means by that, two little arms grab me from behind. “Daddy! Guess what?”
One eye on Percy, who seems to be getting along with the other kids on the pumpkins, I reach around to sweep Mabel into my arms. “What?”
Avery jogs up and drops her hands to her knees to catch her breath. “Whew! Mabel, you’re fast.”
Mabel pats me on the chest. “I wanted to tell Daddy about the cows. A mommy cow’s baby died, and a baby cow’s mommy died so they adopted each other.”
A woman who looks vaguely familiar steps up next to Avery. “Wait. Mabel is Josh’s daughter?”
“Do you remember my twin sister, Colleen?” Sam asks me. “She visited a couple times freshman year.”
“Right!” I set Mabel down so she can join the kids on the pumpkins. “For a writing conference or something?”
“Good memory.” Colleen draws a line between me and Avery. “But how do you two know each other?”
Avery tells her about Playgroup and Trede but doesn’t say anything else about whatever we are to each other. Which is fair, since we can’t seem to get beyond really like kissing but have a lot of baggage. When Avery begins to ask about the rest of the Bedd family in detail, I have to ask, “So how do you guys know each other?”
“Well, duh,” Colleen says. “We went to the same high school.”
Avery, obviously reading my blank look, adds, “Fork Lick is even smaller than Climax, so the county high school serves both, plus a few other hamlets.”
“Colleen and Avery started a library club,” Sam adds. “So they could get the school to buy romance books.”
“And so we could have somewhere quiet to eat lunch,” Colleen says, swatting at her brother.
A wistful smile crosses Avery’s face. “Luckily, the school board didn’t pay too much attention to content back then.”
“Ugh.” Colleen shudders. “Don’t even get me started on the books those idiots want to ban these days.”
Avery and Colleen talk about old friends while Sam and I chat about his new job for a bit, but a howl from Percy has me stopping him mid-story. “Sorry, man. I think we need to wrap this up. Naptime’s a calling.”
“No worries.” Sam tips his head toward a table where Diane’s ladling out apple cider. “I should probably check in with the boss, anyway. Don’t be a stranger.”
As we strap two exhausted, sun-kissed children into their car seats, each holding a kid-sized pumpkin, I realize that I don’t feel like a stranger. And when I open Avery’s door for her, waiting for her to sit before handing her the pastry box full of apple turnovers, I feel something even more precious.
Like I’m with my family, and we’re heading home.