Once he got back in line, only a few minutes passed before the tractor returned. Myla chose a haybale on the right side to plop down on. His mom sat on one side of her, and he took the other side. The man operating the ride gave instructions through a megaphone. The farm had three rules while on the wagon—remain seated while in motion, keep hands and arms within the frame of the wagon, and have fun.
Myla squealed with delight when the wagon jerked forward then evened out into a bumpy ride. She picked up a handful of loose hay and threw it at him.
He blinked when it hit his face and tickled his nose. Though he should have seen it coming, he’d been preoccupied with thoughts about Paige. Remembering the fun of a good hay fight, he grinned, scooped up what he could, and tossed it at Myla.
His mom clucked her tongue. “I can’t take you two anywhere.”
This time he was prepared and focused, saw the sparkle in her eye and the hand hiding behind her back. He tipped his chin. “What do you have there, Mom?”
“This.” She swung her arm outward and tossed hay at him.
The entire group on the wagon joined in the fun. Peals of laughter rang in the air.
Wes sat back, watching his mom and Myla interacting with their seat neighbors. Their wide smiles and belly laughs filled his heart with happiness. The last few weeks had been rough. Months, actually. If he were honest, he could even say years. Jenna’s addiction and life issues had put a heavy strain on all of them.
He hadn’t seen his mom enjoy herself like this in a long time, and it was long overdue. Even Myla hadn’t shown a hint of attitude since they’d arrived which was a miracle in and of itself.
They arrived at the pumpkin patch and waited their turn to unload. He climbed off first, then lifted Myla onto the ground. Mom was the last of them to get off, and she accepted his hand to support her steps down.
“I wanna go to the back. That’s where all the good ones still are ‘cause no one wants to walk all the way there,” Myla declared with conviction.
He couldn’t fault her logic—it made sense to him—but didn’t want his mom to overexert herself. “Is that all right with you?”
A smile accompanied her nod. “It’s a good day.”
“Then let’s go find the biggest, bestest pumpkin out there.” He grabbed Myla’s hand, and they traveled the path between fields.
Mid-way there, Myla broke free. “I found it.”
He and mom exchanged amused glances. Choosing a pumpkin was like picking a Christmas tree. Half the fun came from the search, and the first one spotted rarely was the final choice. Regardless, they followed Myla to the edge of the field on their left.
Several inches beyond the line, hiding partially behind a large green leaf sat a pumpkin he estimated to be twenty pounds or more. It was symmetrical, and he didn’t see any flat spots from where it had rested on the ground.
Myla ran her hand over the orange flesh. “See, it’s the best one here.”
“It’s very nice, but wouldn’t you like to search around? There might be one even better.” Mom’s gentle prodding fell on deaf ears.
The defiant jut of Myla’s chin told them she’d chosen this pumpkin and no other would suffice. “This one’s perfect.”
He stooped down and waved for Myla to join him. “Do you want to break it off the vine?”
“Yes.” She curled her fingers around the green stem and snapped it. “Can I pick it up?”
“Go for it.” A grin spread across his face while he watched Myla attempt to lift the pumpkin.
He had to hand it to her—she didn’t give up easily. Even when she couldn’t get it to budge one way, she’d step back, observe, and create a new plan. For a six-year-old, she possessed an extraordinary level of tenacity, and his mom captured it all on her camera.
After several minutes, Myla looked up at him. “Can you help me, Uncle Wes?”
“Sure thing.” He bent his arms and slid his hands underneath the pumpkin. Lifted it up into Myla’s outstretched arms while his maintained the brunt of the weight. “Hey, Mom, get a picture of us.”
“Look at Nana, sweetheart.” Mom held up her camera and snapped several pictures. “Got them.”
He winked at Myla. “Want to hold it all by yourself?”
“I… I think you should.” Her face turned serious. “I might drop it, and it could smash, and then I’d cry.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He lugged the beast out of the patch and toward the front where they’d be picked up.
