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I show him the message. He reads it, then turns his hand palm-up beside mine. “Whatever they say, it doesn’t change how I feel.” He holds my gaze.

I rest my hand in his. The knot beneath my ribs eases before I put my phone away. I can deal with news when there is news. Right now, I don’t want to spend this afternoon anticipating another goodbye.

“Let’s enjoy the afternoon?” I squeeze his fingers.

“Gladly.” He studies my pumpkin. “What were you attempting here?”

“Joy.” I wave at the crooked mouth. “Obviously.”

He moves around the table to show me one useful cut. The bench shifts under his weight, sliding me against his thigh. His hand steadies my waist, our eyes meet, and neither of us makes a joke. He goes still, then he looks down with such open want that I forget everyone else at the table.

“You’re distracting me.” I brush a seed from my sweater, trying to stay composed.

“I like you happy.” His fingers remain near mine.

I used to worry I was a bother, always asking too many questions at his shop. Now I see how carefully he watches my face and how much my happiness means to him.

A volunteer walks by and asks whether our pumpkins belong together. Mine sits crookedly until Silas wedges a piece of cardboard beneath it.

“Yes.” I look at him. “Those two go together.”

His palm settles at my back as the volunteer shrugs and walks away. “Go to the dance with me tonight?”

“I’ve never seen you dance.”

“Never had a good enough reason to embarrass myself.” He glances at my lips, then back to my eyes.

“I’d like to.” I kiss his cheek. “Very much.”

twelve

Silas

Anissa sends a picture while I change of the bear on her mother’s counter beside my jacket. Your mini me, says wear blue, she has written underneath. I put on the blue shirt, trying not to smile like a man who is already fallen in love, and head over to her house.

She comes down the path wearing a rust-colored dress, the silk ribbon woven into her braid, and I forget how to speak. “That bad?” She touches the ribbon, her smile wavering.

“Beautiful.” I open the passenger-side door for her. “Trying to find something less obvious.”

“Obvious works.” Her palm smooths a wrinkle on my chest that isn't there. “He chose well.”

“I’m not taking wardrobe advice from a bear again.” I look at her mouth and fight the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her.

“Reliable fellow.” She tips her face toward mine. “Terrible at ring toss.”

Losing the fight, I kiss her before she can continue. She laughs against my mouth, and I hold her waist until she draws back, pleased with the interruption.

At the barn, lights hang across the beams. I study the crowded dance floor and its exits. Anissa apparently interprets this correctly.

“You promised to participate.” She pulls me toward a caller arranging partners.

“I recall a donation.” I watch couples turning in unison. “Not a fitness assessment.”

“You’ll survive.” Her fingers tighten in mine.

The first steps seem simple. Then we switch places, and I realize the whole room knows where to go but me. Anissa catches my sleeve, rescuing me from an enthusiastic retired teacher.

“Left.” She laughs.