Page 31 of There's Pumpkin About You
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I’ve been refraining from asking anything else. It’s one thing to wonder what’s happened to the progression of a business, but it’s another thing entirely to ask about personal obstacles.
But you can see the effect it’s having on him. It’s clear that the mere mention of his father is pushing an arrow into his heart. It’s a heartbreaking thing to see, to know that there is a pain within someone that they can’t escape because they’re surrounded by it every day.
I’ve been trying everything I can to distract him: talk to him about the barn, ask him about the coffee I bring him every morning, but all I’m met with is one-word answers and low grunts of approval. I had to leave him briefly to answer a call from Teddy, a guy I know who handles all of my lighting needs for events, and even the time alone did nothing to ease him.
In a last-ditch effort, I ask, “So when you’ve harvested part of a row, where do you put it? Do you have to carry them all the way to the entrance?”
Gus, who is currently checking the last row, turns to me as if I’ve finally asked a question worth his time. “No, we have Mori pull a cart that we switch out for an empty one after each row.”
“Mori?”
He sniffs, the cold finally reaching him, and motions for me to follow him. The sun is beginning to make its descent as we wander over to the main building, but instead of going inside, Gus veers us around it towards a second, much smaller barn that looks to be in much better condition.
As we make our way closer to the building, the animal sounds I always hear when I jump out the car become louder. How did it take me a week to ask about the animals when I hear them every morning?
Gus pushes the door to the green barn and saunters in. The most I do is peek around the corner. I can’t see the entire interior, just one side which contains two pens, each containing its own horse.
Hay lies all over the floor and in the corner is a large container full of what I’m assuming is feed. It’s bright and warm and both horses snicker happily.
A tiny yap by my feet makes me jump, but when I look down I’m met with one of the cutest sights.
“Oh, well hi there, cutie!”
I bend down and the little bundle of joy affectionately licks my hand before playfully nipping at my fingers. I scratch behind the puppy’s ear and it lets out a playful bark.
“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing, oh my God.”
The golden retriever leaps up until its front paws rest on my knee. As if it needs to make my heart melt any more than it already has.
I can feel eyes on me, a heated gaze. Gus is back at the door, watching me interact with the puppy whilst he shoves his hand into his pocket. His eyes only dip down towards the cutie currently licking my hand once, the rest of the time he seems to focus on the smile on my face. If it isn’t for the way his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, I’d think he’s daydreaming.
There’s no mistaking this for daydreaming now, though. Not when there is such intensity and heat in the way that he tracks every time I worry my lip, or open my mouth to say something before the words become lodged in my throat. The side of my mouth tilts upwards and it seems to wake him up from whatever trance he’s in. He blinks constantly whilst he shakes his head, eventually having to move his hair from in front of his glasses.
“You going to introduce me, or you just going to stare at my lips until they turn blue from the cold?” I jest.
He doesn’t laugh, but I wasn’t expecting him to. “This is Cliffhanger, but I call him Cliff for short.”
“Cliffhanger? As in…”
He nods towards the pup. “This is the little shit responsible for this happening.” He lifts his broken arm as best he can.
“Oh, well now it all makes sense,” I chuckle as I pick up the little troublemaker. “I’d risk everything for someone as adorable as you, too.” As I bring him closer to my face, his little legs—which are now suspended in mid-air—start to kick in an effort to get closer. The moment I cuddle him against my neck he lifts his head and nuzzles into my hair, tickling my neck with the occasional excited lick.
I imagine this little cutie in danger, and the idea of Gus doing something so unbelievably reckless makes more sense than it did before.
“He was probably looking for his family.”
“Most likely,” Gus agrees. “I think he was the runt and the mom left him behind in order to keep the others alive.”
I cover the puppy with the collar of my jacket. “That’s horrible.”
Gus shrugs. “That’s nature. Animals do what comes naturally to them. It’s not up to us to judge it.”
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Gus tries to lead me into the animal barn, but I halt my steps.
