Shelly skipped through the pumpkin patch, wicker basket cradled against her tummy. Every gourd in the garden was bigger than she remembered but they smelled musty. The giant pumpkins were almost as tall as she was with vines thick as cucumbers connecting them.

In the middle of the patch, she could see Mr. Gennerly’s bald head bounce up and down. Adjusting the checkered handkerchief that covered the basket, Shelly made a beeline for the her neighbor.

Mr. Gennerly was crouched down over something. He turned as she approached and his eyes widened. Sweat dotted his brow. “Don’t look, Shelly!”

He bent over and wiggled his hands back and forth in the grass, leaving dark trails behind them. Laboriously he got to his feet and dusted off his hands. Behind him, Shelly could see something small and white and lifeless.

“What brings you over here?”

She freed a hand to flip some of her hair past her bonnet. “Momma made some cookies and thought you might like some.”

“Leave them on the porch and get on home, okay?”