Page 22 of The Pumpkin Patch Promise

After he left, Prue stood for a moment beside the workbench, listening to the activity on the farm and thinking about what the future held. The sanctuary was still little more than an idea. There would be permits, regulations, family arguments and probably a dozen problems she hadn't even thought of yet.

But she had a place to start.

And, perhaps more importantly, she was beginning to trust herself to find the way forward.

SAM

The forests around Berkshire County were at their most colorful on Saturday morning, the hillsides layered in amber, bronze, and crimson. Sam glanced at Prue who was sitting in the passenger seat of his truck as they turned off the state highway, her hands over the wicker picnic hamper on her lap.

“So what have you packed for our picnic? Whatever it is, it smells really good.”

“I think that’s the freshly baked sourdough you can smell, courtesy of Junie. I’ve packed turkey and cranberry sandwiches, firm autumn apples from the farm orchard, and I have two stainless steel thermoses. One filled with warm spiced tea and the other filled with apple juice.”

“My mouth is watering already,” Sam said. “So is there any specific reason you chose a scenic drive and picnic for date number three?”

Prue sighed, and Sam wondered for a moment if she would answer the question.

“I guess it’s because I’ve never really had the chance to be spontaneous. I haven’t had a picnic since I was a kid. For most of my adult life, everything has always been very rigidly planned. Just driving with no set schedule feels freeing somehow,” Prue told him.

Sam drove with a relaxed confidence, keeping one hand on the wheel while pointing out historical timber frame barns set back in the rolling pastures. Every now and then they’d stop at scenic viewpoints. They moved without hurry, enjoying the morning landscape without any pressure.

As they rounded a corner, the sunshine shifted to Prue’s face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. As he glanced across the cab at her, Sam couldn’t help but notice how lovely she looked. Like an angel.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked.

Prue laughed. “Isn’t that what the girl always asks the guy?”

Sam grinned, but waited for her answer.

“I was actually just thinking how comfortable silence with you is. It’s restful. All I can hear is the low hum of the engine and the wind rustling through the open vent. I feel like I have room to breathe. There’s no pressure to fill the silence.”

He was glad she didn’t feel any pressure with him. She should always feel free to just be herself. Sam wanted to be a safe place for Prue.

As they reached the base of the eastern ridge, a pair of wooden detour signs blocked the primary access road leading up to the crest overlook. Orange traffic cones lined the asphalt where a municipal road crew had closed the lane for bridge culvert repairs, directing all vehicles onto an unfamiliar back road that wound up the timbered hillside.

Sam noticed an immediate change in Prue. She suddenly sat up straight and her fingers tightened around the wicker handle of the basket.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I had no idea this route was closed. I should have checked ahead of time.” She sounded genuinely upset.

Sam slowed the truck smoothly, pulling off onto the wide shoulder beside an old fieldstone wall. He shifted into park and turned off the engine, letting only the gentle rustle of autumn leaves fill the cab. When he turned to look fully at Prue, he could see creases of worry on her forehead. He reached out and gently put a hand over hers.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he insisted. “Roads close all the time for maintenance. How were you to know?”

“You’re not mad?” Prue said.

Sam chuckled. “Of course not! It would be a silly thing to get mad over. Now let’s see what our options are.”

He pulled up a map on his phone and traced the narrow dotted line representing the detour route with his index finger.

Turning the phone toward Prue, he asked, “Which route do you want to take? We can turn back to the main highway and take this road further along, or we can take this dirt detour road up through the timber ridge. It’s up to you.”

He noticed the look of relief on Prue’s face and it made him angry with her former husband. Nobody should fear their partner blowing up over something so small. Especially not somebody like Prue who was so sweet and gentle. He hated seeing the flash of anxiety in her eyes.

Prue looked out through the windshield at the narrow dirt lane winding up between tall sugar maples. Sunlight filtered through the rustling canopy, casting dappled shadows across the fallen leaves. She released her tight grip on the picnic hamper handle, letting her shoulders drop as the lingering tension dissolved.

“Let’s follow the unpaved detour road. It will be an adventure,” she said.

Sam smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket. He restarted the engine and guided the truck onto the dirt lane, driving at an easy speed that allowed them to take in the surrounding forest. As the truck climbed the winding incline, they looked out at the vibrant foliage framing the mountain trail. They passed historic stone bridge abutments and mountain streams framed by late autumn ferns.