Plenty of the town's produce was sold in Littleton Farmer's Market, an open field where local vendors put up stalls. The commercial space was open from summer to fall, from June to the last day of October. It was their last month before winter, and the townsfolk were making the most of it.

My mother preferred going to the Farmer's Market instead of the grocery stores. She planned to purchase pumpkins today, and I didn't mind accompanying her after school.

It was still too early, but my father asked my mother to buy some pumpkins to practice on. He got hyped about the Gathering of the Jack O'Lanterns, which was a big thing in Littleton. People came together with hundreds of carved pumpkins every year to display them on the river rocks. I remembered the first time I watched it—all those glowing orange orbs on smooth stones against the rushing water as the sky darkened in the early evening. It was breathtaking.

My father had always said he wanted to contribute a masterpiece someday, but his work didn't give him enough time and energy to carve up a face on a vegetable. In a few days though, he'd be retired and free to do whatever he wanted.

We parked on the side of the road and walked across the grassy field to the vendors. My mother went straight for a pumpkin stall.

"Mrs. Watson," the seller greeted my mother. "It's a little early to purchase your pre-carved pumpkins this year." He gestured at the crates in front of him, filled with whole and carved pumpkins.

"Not pre-carbed dis year. I want da presh ones," my mother said to the vendor. "I'll get two today and come back por more next week."

"Are you finally going to carve up some pumpkins this year?" the vendor asked.

"My husband is. He's going to hab more time now dat he's retiring," my mother said.

"Good for him. He should contribute to the Gathering of the Jack O'Lanterns."

"Dat's da plan." My mother nodded as she picked up a pumpkin to inspect it. "So, how much?"

I stood by and waited as she haggled with the price. It was one of the reasons why she liked going to the Farmer's Market. She could bargain here, unlike in grocery stores where prices were fixed. She kept saying it was a Filipino thing, but I think it was a thrifty person's thing, which was a trait implanted in most Filipinos.

As I waited, I checked around. The market didn't only sell farmer's products. Some stalls offered trinkets and all sorts of stuff. My favorite was the one that sold second-hand books, and it was the reason why I liked coming here.

"Mom, I'm just going to look around," I told my mother while she picked the pumpkins.

She glanced at me. "Okay, balik ka agad. We won't be long." Balik ka agad meant come back soon.

I made my way between the stalls and found the shelves of books. There were mostly paperback copies wrapped in plastic so they didn't get damaged by the humid chill of the day.

"Hello." The vendor, a familiar lady with graying hair, smiled at me. "You've come back to buy another book?" she asked.

I smiled in return. The last time I checked out this stand, I bought a novella and enjoyed reading it for an hour. After I finished it, I wished I bought more. "I hope so." I nodded and began to browse the books.

I found the Fantasy and SciFi novels. It wasn't an extensive selection, but there's usually treasure to be discovered from the lady's collection of pre-love stories. My eyes glazed over the colorful spines—most of the titles I already owned.

A peculiar last name caught my attention, and I stopped and paused at a book with a dark blue spine. "The Shadow Desert by Althea Basilio," I read. I had never heard of that one before. Basilio was a name I remembered reading from Noli Me Tangere by Jose Rizal, a novel by a Filipino activist during the Spanish Colonial Period in the Philippines.

Wondering if the author was also Filipino, I reached out, pulled it off the shelf, and studied its front cover—shadows dancing over a vast land of hill sands.

"Oh, that one is a new release. I think the previous owner didn't read it. So, it's good as new," the vendor told me.

"Huh," I said, intrigued as I flipped the novel to its back and read the blurb. It was a fantasy story set in a land devastated by darkness. At the bottom on the back cover, a biography of the author was printed. She was a Filipino living in the Philippines. "Interesting. It's been a while since I read a novel by a Filipino like myself."

"I think you'll like it," the vendor said, obviously trying to make a sale, but I thought the same.

The impulsive buyer in me took over. "I'll take it," I said, turning to the lady.

"Great! I'll ring you up." The vendor grinned and went straight to her cash register. "Is that all you're getting?" she asked.

"For now," I answered.

After paying for the book, I headed back to the vegetable section to find my mother. A satisfied smile boated my lips as I carried my new book in a paper bag.

Passing stalls, I found my way to the pumpkin seller but couldn't see where my mother had gone. I turned around, wondering if she had left me. Checking my phone, I didn't receive any messages either.

"It's like she's in love with reading books. It happened overnight." My ears caught on to a woman's voice, and my head snapped up. "She told me she read that romance novel until four in the morning. She didn't get any sleep, but she was happy about it."

I turned and saw two women standing in the field. I was only curious because I caught the word books, but I was drawn when the other lady spoke next.

"I think that red book made her fall in love with reading," the shorter lady among them said. "You know, the one she read before, titled How to Fall in Love."

Without meaning to, I jumped into their conversation. "Excuse me," I said as I walked up to them. "Are you talking about a red leather-bound book?"

They turned in my direction. Both of them were middle-aged, a few years older than my mother.

The taller one gave me a sweet smile as if I was a child. "Hello, dear," she greeted me first. "Yes, we are. It's a book we've seen our friend reading."

"Funny," the shorter one added. "She doesn't recall reading the book like she caught an amnesia."

"Or maybe the Men in Black visited her house and used a neuralyzer on her." The taller one chuckled.

I had heard of that movie, but by not having seen it before, I didn't understand what a neuralyzer was. Yet I bet the joke was funny because the shorter lady laughed too.

"Uhm, you said the title of the red book is How to Fall in Love?" I pulled the conversation back to my agenda.

"Yes. Have you read it too?" the taller one asked.

"At first, I was worried about Lizzy reading such a book. She's already married. Why would she want to know how to fall in love?" the other lady added. "I thought she was cheating, but it seems the book wasn't what I thought it was."

"What was it then?" I asked.

The lady shrugged. "I don't know. Never read it. But you tell me. It seems like you have."

"I haven't read it either." I never planned to. I thought of returning it to the library and telling Miss Clark I loved it, but now, I was curious to know what the red leather-bound book was about and what inside it seemed to make people fall in love with reading.

"Well, that's a shame." The taller lady crossed her arms over her double-layered sweater and rubbed her shoulders.

I agreed. It was unfortunate. "Do you mind if I ask who your friend is?" I said.

"Sure. Her name is Lizzy Martin," the lady answered.

"Dave's mom?" Surprised, my mind connected the dots. Of course! I saw Dave reading that disappearing book at Finn's party, and now it found its way to his mother. It wasn't a coincidence.

"Oh, do you go to school together?" the shorter lady asked.

"Yes, we're in most classes together," I confirmed.

"Maybe you can ask Dave about it. He's a charming boy," she said.

But I already did ask Dave about it. He said he couldn't remember reading it. And now, his mother couldn't either. This was getting weird. In addition to that, I couldn't believe this lady said he was a charming boy.

"Elsy!" I heard my mother's voice. When I turned to where it came from, I caught her carrying two large paper bags. "Come and help me wid dese."

"Coming, Mom," I called to her. I turned back to the ladies. "I have to go. Thanks for the information," I said, giving them a smile.

"No problem," they said together.

I jogged to where my mother waited and took one of the bags from her. It was heavy and filled with vegetables and fruits. Sweetness lingered below my nose as I caught the scent of apples—my favorite.

"Diba sinabi ko na bumalik ka agad?" my mother said as she repositioned the remaining bag in both her arms. She tended to speak entirely in Filipino when she was irritated. And what she said meant didn't I tell you to come back soon?

"I was looking for you," I told her.

"Didn't look like it. Who were you talking to?" she asked, starting to walk across the field. The grass below our boots had dried and browned in the autumn cold.

"Just making some new friends," I answered, following her to the side of the road where we parked.

"I like dat you are making priends, Elsy. But I wish you'd make more priends who are your age." She pulled the car key from her pocket and clicked, listening to our car beep. My mother usually forgot where she parked, even when the lot was a single strip, and all one had to do was walk straight to find it.

"It's a few more rows down, Mom," I said, not commenting on what she said. She was right, though. I had trouble making friends with people my age.

I was nervous coming up to talk to Cathy the other day, but I had so much courage when I walked up to the two ladies I spoke to earlier. I was comfortable around Miss Clark in the library, but I was edgy at Finn's party, around kids my age, that I could barely say hi to anyone there.

I hated when my mother noticed it, only making me pity myself.

When we reached the car and loaded the groceries in the trunk, I noticed the pumpkins weren't there. "Hey, Mom. Where's dad's pumpkins?"

"Oh, I got a bargain. Two por da price op one ip I buy ten," she said as she closed the trunk door.

"Ten?" Most people only bought two or three for one house.

"Well, it's your dad's pirst time. So, let him hab all da pumpkin he wants," she said, moving to the driver's seat. "Dey will be delibered to da house next week."

"Okay, if you say so." I got in the front passenger seat, unsure if what my mother did was a smart idea. She was being supportive, but I doubted my father could carve that many for the Gathering of the Jack O'Lanterns.

The ride home came quiet as I searched for solace in the new book I bought. Removing the plastic covering, I breathed in its scent and started to read it in the car to avoid talking to my mother.

She told me I'd hurt my eyes for reading in the car, but I only shrugged. She said nothing more, allowing us to stay silent as she drove us home. 

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

The Farmer's Market is an actual location in Littleton, New Hampshire. I thought it would be neat to use it as the setting for this chapter. The Gathering of the Jack O'Lanterns that's mentioned here is also a real event in Littleton. I've only seen photos on the internet, but it captures a beautiful scene. 

Happy Reading!

Hi_D

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