Page 23 of Falling for the Veterinarian

“Oh, that’s not what it looks like. It’s just an apology for a misunderstanding." The rumors are going to spread like common cold.

“Hmm, ok,” she concedes. “Well, anyway, I am still looking for the perfect location for you. As soon as I find it, I will let you know.”

“Sounds great.” I shake her hand and leave. Phew, I am so not ready for all this.

The pumpkin carving contest arrives quicker than I planned. I am a little nervous to see Sarah but push myself to keep a cool exterior. I am one of the last few contestants to show up. It only takes a moment to find her long shiny brown hair. She appears focused and ready to beat me for the championship.

Sheriff Dewy steps up on the makeshift stage holding a mic. “OK! Looks like it’s just after eleven. Participants, as you can see, there are large folding tables enough to fit three people at each. You have two hours to carve your designs. Rider, if you please.” The sheriff’s twelve-year-old son enters the time on a large electronic countdown sign.

“Participants, please choose a seat but don’t start yet,” he instructs over the microphone.

Sarah strides over to a table near the stage. I move quickly to sit next to her. She smiles at first until she meets my eyes. Sandy, the only child in the competition, sits on my opposite side.

“Hey,” I mumble.

“Hey,” Sarah curtly responds. My stomach clenches.She’s still angry.

“Folks, now that you all have a seat and have your supplies out,” Sheriff Dewy announces. “On my mark, we will start the countdown. When the buzzer sounds, put down your supplies and put your hand up.”

“Ready, set, GO!” Rider starts the timer.

I create an intricate design of some of the shops in the town square with falling maple leaves above them in various sizes. I lean towards Sarah and try to playfully sneak a peek at her design.

“Hey, keep your eyes on your own pumpkin.” She shifts the gourd away from me.

“OK, OK,” I laugh. I can’t tell if she’s flirting or angry. This cat-and-mouse game is intriguing.

Silence blankets the contestants as we intensely carve our designs. Sandy makes quick work of her design of a cat in a forest with a large moon. The rest of the festival is alive with chatter, laughter, and music. I hear the distinct giggle of Whitney and involuntarily look up. She’s with her gaggle of twenty-something-year-old friends all staring at me. She smiles broadly and finger-waves at me. I give her a polite smile and focus back on my work.

“Shouldn’t those surgical skills instantly disqualify you?” Sarah's statement breaks my concentration.Is she warming up to me again?

“I may have a small advantage over the competition,” I chuckle. “Listen, Sarah, about earlier—”

“Nope. I need to focus. I have a champion to dethrone,” she says firmly. I tuck my tail between my legs like a dog in trouble and keep working.

“TEN MINUTES LEFT!” Sheriff Dewy announces. It is a flurry of activity from the other tables as the other contestants feel the new time constraint. Luckily, I am just about finished. I can tell little Sandy is struggling with the last bit of her carving. I put the last detail on a maple leaf with a cable sweater texture carved into it. Leaning over to Sandy, I ask, “Do you need a little help?”

She shakes her head yes. I grab her pumpkin, cut out the cat, and add a few trees to the side to help elevate her design. I hand the pumpkin back to her so that she can add any last touches.

“Five, four, three, two, one…” Sheriff Dewy continues. “Carving tools down and hands up!”

“Dad, this isn't a hostage situation,” Rider jokes and the small crowd roars in laughter.

“Tell that to the pumpkins,” he responds. “Now here comes the toughest part. See Marcy over by that table in the shade?” Marcy from the flower shop waves at the audience. She stands behind a long table with a green tablecloth.

Sheriff Dewy continues, “Very carefully, pick up your pumpkin and place it on the table. Then meet us back here this evening at seven for the results of the judging.”

Sarah’s design is incredible. She used elements of the famous Starry Night painting for the background then added a distinct miniature of the Starry Night Inn. She really has a talent for this. I feel a new warmth in my chest. When my wife died, a big part of me died too. Sure, I still get up and do the thing that must be done, but I am just a shell of the person that I once was. The last few days, though, I feel like maybe I am still alive.

All the participants gingerly place their pumpkins on the table. No disasters this year. I hear some “oohs” as contestants and festival goers walk over to size up the competition.

“I just love the little cat and the jack-o-lantern he is sitting on,” Sarah's voice carries over and I walk closer to them.

“Thanks, I had a little help,” Sandy replies shyly and beams at me. She turns sharply after she hears her mom calling her from the crowd. She pauses to wave bye to us. A palpable thicket of awkwardness stretches between Sarah and me.

“Thank you for the plant,” Sarah breaks the silence first. I smile at her but she doesn't return it. She tries to walk away, but I grasp her hand. Surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away.

“Sarah, this morning wasn’t what you thought. Whitney was afraid she didn’t make your drink correctly. Apparently, she is intimidated by you.” I chuckle and then continue, “I was ordering the same thing, so I took your drink to check it out and had her make you a new one. For the record, you dodged a bullet. She definitely missed the caramel-to-honey ratio. It was pretty bitter.”

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