All familiar characters belong to Janet. Mistakes are mine alone.
"Okay, Olive, do you remember what we came here to do?"
Our daughter nodded. "We punkin."
"Yes, but we need four of them. One for Daddy, Mama, Julie, and of course our little Olive pit."
Steph was ticking off the people on her fingers as she listed them, so she had four standing up to then wave at our daughter.
Our baby mimicked her four-finger wave.
"Whose pumpkin do you think we should start with?" I asked my baby.
Her other fingers quickly disappeared, leaving only her little index finger sticking straight up in the air. "Dada!" She yelled.
A cute frown formed around Steph's mouth. "I'm not going to take offense to our daughter putting you in the number one spot in at least two ways there."
"It's hard to say I'm the preferred parent when she's your carbon copy."
The frown morphed into a mischievous grin and she nodded. "That makes more sense. She doesn't love her Daddy more than me, she loves you as much as I do because she's my clone."
I must have cracked the code on how my wife thinks, because that made a strange kind of sense to me. I took hold of Olivia's hand so she wouldn't run into the unpaved road that was bringing in more pumpkin hunters, and I glanced down at the small body holding tightly onto me, knowing I won't let anything happen to her. A grin teased my lips, remembering the three-way meeting that took place in her bedroom as we all had ideas on what she needed to wear in order to be comfortable yet warm today.
Olivia was stubbornly sure that her unicorn bathrobe would be a good choice. Stephanie wanted her in pants so she could run and play at will. To prevent a potential standoff, I suggested a compromise of a sweater dress that felt similar to the material her robe is made from, with thick leggings, a jacket, and her work boots.
"You learned a lot from Julie, didn't you?" My wife had asked me.
"Yes. Way back when she was Olivia's age and present day about equally now."
"I never thought that'd include clothes along with everything else she's tried to get you to relax about."
"A man learns whatever he needs to in order to survive in his environment," I'd told her.
She had pushed me in what I'd barely call a shove and then she went to Olivia's closet to get the clothes I had suggested. I had been right again. The weather is relatively warm for a Jersey October, but there's still a definite chill in the air that's evident with a breeze that continues to gain in momentum. It's going to piss Steph off, but snow is likely only weeks away ... and the holidays closing in right behind it.
I have to admit, it is the perfect weather to be outside with a toddler who has been cooped up all day in the Rangeman building while Stephanie and I worked together to track down a particularly invisible skip. Olivia chased Mo and Gunny in-between Uncles and around the control room until we had Spacey Tills' location narrowed down to only two addresses to pass onto Santos and Brown for capture.
Despite wanting to keep an eye and ear out for Olivia, Stephanie managed to trick a recent ex of Tills to give up where she last met with him, which was not the direction Santos had been heading. A quick lunch, a nap for Olivia, and then we were free for the rest of the afternoon.
"We go dare," Olivia decided, staking out the best pumpkin-scouting location.
"I'm guessing the Daddy pumpkins are in the row that has their backs to the trees."
"Funny, Babe."
She shrugged and followed Olivia down a wide path covered by mulch that led to the pumpkins furthest away from the entrance.
"Not really," she said over her shoulder. "It would've been funny if I'd said the Daddy pumpkins are still out in the field."
I curled an arm around her and drew her back a foot for a kiss before letting her go again. Steph's reflexes are spot-on and she got hold of Olivia's waist before our daughter could climb one of the upright pumpkins to get on the other side of it. She has a goal and apparently nothing will stand in her way of achieving it.
"No climbing, Olive," she told our daughter. "Those could fall over and take you down with it if you step on them."
"No lime," Olivia repeated solemnly.
Steph caught my eye and we both fought smiles, knowing we now have to be extra diligent. That tone is the one Olivia uses on us to lure us into a false sense of security right before she goes full throttle into something she's determined to do.
As expected, less than thirty seconds later … I was reaching out to prevent her from summiting a hay bale.
"No lime," I reminded her.
She nodded, causing the two messy hair-knots that Steph had corralled her dark hair into before we left Seven, to become even messier.
I let her down but held her hand again as we navigated the maze of kids and calabazas until Olive pointed to where she was headed. I released her entirely, since the coast and her path are currently all clear.
Steph came up behind me, hooked my midsection with an arm, and looked around my body to watch our two-foot-tall baby girl trying to drag a pumpkin half her size but three-times her width out of the spot where someone much larger than she is had placed it this morning. I stepped in and took over her fight to free it.
I had a much easier time.
"Ooh … good eye, Olive. That is definitely a 'Daddy' pumpkin. It's bigger than most of the ones here, its skin is perfect and the perfect tone, and it has a really firm body."
"You can stop comparing my appearance to a pumpkin's now."
I sounded less amused than I actually am. One reason I was so drawn to Stephanie in the first place is how differently she sees pretty much everything around her.
"Fine," my wife sighed. "Can I say then that this guy is 'Daddy's pumpkin' because only Olive's Daddy would be able to carry it to the truck?"
I gave her a brief nod. "I can accept that," I told her, having no problem lifting the twenty-pounder.
The smile my daughter gave me as I carried her prize-find for her, was reward enough.
"Jubie," Olivia interrupted us to say, pointing towards the front row of pumpkins three over from where we currently are.
"You put her up to this, didn't you?" Steph asked me, as we stepped over and through the left-behind pumpkins to get to the one Olivia had zeroed in on for Julie.
"I have no idea what you're referring to, Babe."
"You didn't 'advise' Olive to walk, climb over, or leap across every single thing in this place before we leave? This feels like one of your tricks to work in extra exercise where there doesn't need to be any."
"I only agreed to escort my ladies to a farm to get pumpkins for some reason known only to them. I promise, the only sinister plan I've entertained today is how to get us out of here before you decide we all need ice cream or to feed the goats before we head out."
"The goats are still up for debate, but we are getting ice cream, and cider doughnuts to go, before we go," she informed me. "Olive and I can do that while you secure the pumpkins in the truck so you don't have to watch."
"I appreciate that," I told her, balancing my pumpkin on one arm so I could lift Olivia over another of the larger ones, quickly setting her down so she could grab 'Julie's pumpkin' before another child caught onto her plan and chose it.
"I gots it!" She declared, wrapping both arms around a slightly more yellow pumpkin than 'my' neon orange one.
"Great choice, Olive!" Steph exclaimed. "It's bright and happy just like Julie is."
"I can carry it, Babe," I told her, reaching my free hand out to take it from her.
"Are you sure? You may need at least one arm handy for something security-related."
"I'll adapt. If need be, an ornamental vegetable can become as deadly a weapon as any other."
That comment drew wary looks from a couple that have been standing too close to us. I thought they needed a reason to move a safer distance away from my family and I was happy to give them one.
"So we're looking for an 'Olive' pumpkin next?" Steph asked our little pumpkin hunter.
Our baby considered that as her brown eyes scanned the farm's offerings in a way that would make anyone being staked out by her feel incredibly nervous.
"Mama's!" She suddenly shouted, a millisecond before she bolted four sections down.
Steph's curious look became one of total confusion. "Mama looks like a short, warty, blue pumpkin?"
"It got pitty Mama hawr," our daughter replied, twirling her fingers through the two strands of leftover vine that hadn't been completely removed from the stem.
Steph was speechless for half-a-second. "The pumpkin does have pretty curly hair just like Mama and Olive have. I'm not sure why I project 'blue', but I'm going with it."
"Your eyes, Steph. Everyone in our family has brown eyes except you … and Mado I suppose, which are more gold/orange than brown."
"Thank you. I'm going with your explanation and I'll just overlook the warts."
Turns out the 'warts' are an attractive trait because after another ten minutes of looking, Olivia found her pumpkin. It's orange like mine and Julie's, but with a hint of green stripes running vertically from root to stem. It's about the size of a baking pumpkin and also covered in the same bumps supposedly marring Stephanie's blue pumpkin.
"Huh, Olive and I are wart-mates."
"Happy?" I teased.
"Strangely, yes."
I kissed her smile but pulled back when I felt her lips start to turn downwards. Her blue eyes were narrowed and aimed to the left of me.
"Eyes on the pumpkins," she ordered two twenty-something women who are standing in the mulched-path two over from ours. "Can't you see he's taken?"
I didn't acknowledge anything except my wife. She always says I'm too possessive and protective, but the look in her eyes when she accuses me of either one has me convinced that she finds my turning territorial as sexy as I find it when her possessive-switch is flipped.
I leaned in close and whispered "Very taken" into her ear.
I waited to speak again until her body-shiver had ended and her focus was back on me.
"Come on, Babe. I'll buy you an ice cream."
"Really?" She asked, suspicious of a trap I could be setting.
"Yes. We'll even sit down at one of the tables where you and Olive can take your time and enjoy it."
She carried her pumpkin while Olivia wanted to keep hold of hers, so the three of us paid for them and put them in the truck bed before we walked to the opposite side of the farm where there was a small ice cream stand that was built to look like a classic New England red barn.
"What would you like?" I asked my ladies.
"The warm apple crisp à la mode," Steph said. "And a caramel apple and doughnuts for later. Olive, do you want vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry ice cream?"
"Choco," she answered, stretching her arms out wide as if she's soaking up applause for picking a good flavor.
"Cone or cup?"
"Cup," Steph answered for her. "If she's still this active after thirty-minutes of scaling the property, we're not going to be able to keep her ice cream inside a cone and off the ground."
I saw a speculative look enter her eyes. My gut tightened in warning, but I told it to stand down until I got more intel on the situation.
"What are you thinking?" I asked her.
She caught Olive before our baby could run off, and sat the busy little body on her lap at the first empty picnic table we came across. "You know who didn't get a pumpkin?" She asked us.
"Mo unny," Olive answered.
"Well, that's true. But Mo and Gunny can't do anything with pumpkins except eat them. And something tells me both 'GandElla' and 'GampyLouis' would have something to say about the results of them doing that. I meant GodTank and the RangeUncles. Maybe we should get at least two more pumpkins before we go so we can ask them to join us. That way we'll have something fun to do to keep 'somebody' really occupied until her bath and bed-time."
"Tío Hector is good with a knife," I said in agreement, thoroughly enjoying the thought of throwing an orange grenade or two into the men's day.