by Lee Hollis
Edie grunted, obviously not at all sold on her husband’s self-proclaimed magnificent purchase.
Reverend Staples didn’t seem to notice his wife’s less than enthusiastic demeanor and prattled on. “It’s got a king-size bed, full-wall slide, fireplace, hardwood cabinet doors, and a solid-surface kitchen countertop.” He pounded on it with his fist for good measure. “And we went with the deluxe package that features stainless-steel appliances, a WiFi ranger, exterior speakers—oh, and a power drop-down bunk in case we have guests.”
“Have you thought about where you’re going to go first?” Gemma asked.
“We’re heading north to Niagara Falls as we make our way west. I’ve never seen Mount Rushmore in South Dakota and the Black Hills, I’m partial to the canyons and alpine rivers in Wyoming and Utah, Vegas is a must, and then when we hit California and dip our toes in the Pacific, we’ll turn around and head south because Edie has always dreamed of touring the old plantation homes of New Orleans. Isn’t that right, dear?”
“I can’t wait,” Edie said, scowling. “I just envisioned us flying there and staying in a nice hotel in the French quarter, like the Hotel Monteleone where my sister and her family stayed, not in some RV park outside of town.”
“Oh, you’ll love it!” Reverend Staples insisted, obviously turning a blind eye to what his wife wanted in his dream retirement scenario.
“Whatever you say, dear,” Edie said, forcing a smile.
Hayley had known Edie Staples long enough to know that this simmering and so-far-unspoken conflict between her and her still oblivious husband would eventually come to a boil. She could only imagine what kind of knock-down, drag-out fights were going to erupt in this surprisingly spacious RV as the couple slowly made their way from sea to shining sea. She just hadn’t expected those fights would start before the Coachman had even left the parking lot.
Chapter 7
After dropping Gemma off at the house, Hayley stopped by the office to finish writing and filing her column for the next edition of the paper and attending to a few office managerial duties that she had neglected all week. She wanted an empty inbox by the time she went home for the evening, and just barely managed to get everything done by five o’clock. She popped her head into Bruce’s office after shutting down her computer and packing up for the day. He was slumped over his desk, staring into space, lost in another world.
“Working late?”
He didn’t answer at first, but then he peered up at Hayley hovering in the doorway and gave her a tired smile. “No, I’m coming right behind you. I just have to wrap up this column. You have no idea how challenging it is to make a bike theft sound exciting. It’s not even an expensive one either. The owner wasn’t too upset it got stolen because he’s been wanting to buy a new one anyway.”
Hayley chuckled. “I’m sure if anyone can make it a page-turner, you can, honey.”
“Whatever happened to the good old days of just reporting the facts?”
“Everyone wants to hear a good story. Any thoughts on dinner?”
“I don’t want you and Gemma making a fuss and putting on a fancy spread,” Bruce said. “I’ll take us all out. Talk to the kids and see what they feel like.”
“Okay, see you at home,” Hayley said, blowing him a kiss. She could tell from the worry lines on Bruce’s forehead that Sal’s recent demands to juice up his column were getting to him. She could only hope that sales would eventually improve and the pressure would finally subside, at least a little bit.
Hayley got in her car and drove straight home, forgoing her usual stop at the Shop ’n Save since she would mercifully not be cooking tonight.
When she pulled into the driveway of the house, she was surprised to see the garage door wide open. Inside, Conner was foraging around, opening plastic bins that had been stacked in a corner. He pulled out a giant furry spider and held it up excitedly as Hayley hopped out of her Kia.
“This is awesome!” Conner yelled, holding it over his head.
“Gemma’s dad bought that thing years ago. He was always a huge fan of Halloween. You hang it from the roof and when people come up on the porch, there is a sensor that sends it hurtling down on this webby thing to scare them!”
“Does it still work?”
“I think so. It may need some batteries.”
Conner set the spider down and stepped out into the driveway to join her. “I also found some cool-looking skeletons I could put up there as well that you can see from the street as you’re driving by. Do you have a ladder?”
“There’s one in the garage, opposite corner, but wait until Bruce gets home so he can help you,” Hayley said, heading inside.
Conner dashed back into the garage.
Hayley entered the kitchen through the back door to find Gemma almost finished carving a jack-o’-lantern. Hayley couldn’t help but smile as she instantly recognized the face of Harry Potter. Ever since Gemma was a little girl, she had made it an annual tradition to carve her pumpkin into the likeness of her favorite literary character, and she still paid homage to him every Halloween to this day. Gemma was attaching the round glasses to his face as Hayley leaned down to inspect her work.
“You really outdid yourself this year,” Hayley said.
“You think so? I feel like I’m losing my touch. The older I’ve gotten, the more I seem to just want to get it done, like I totally rushed doing his nose. That’s more of a Lord Voldemort nose rather than a Harry Potter nose. Anyway, I’m not going to worry about it. I should get dinner started.”
“You can relax. Bruce is taking us out tonight,” Hayley said.
“Oh, that’s nice of him,” Gemma said before turning to look out the window where Conner had just set a metal ladder against the side of the house. “What’s he doing?”
“He discovered a box of your father’s old Halloween decorations and got inspired,” Hayley said.
Conner climbed the ladder, the giant furry spider underneath one arm, past the window.
Hayley leaned against the sink, concerned. “I told him to wait for Bruce to get home so he could help him, but he’s too excited.”
Gemma opened the window and called out to Conner, who they could now hear stomping across the roof above them. “Conner, why don’t you wait until Bruce gets home to do that?”
“Don’t worry! I got this!” he called down.
“Well, be careful!” Gemma said, shaking her head and closing the window. “He can be so stubborn.”
“Have you talked to him yet?”
“No,” Gemma sighed. “I haven’t been able to find the right moment. He’s really having a good time here and I don’t want to ruin it. I’ll probably wait until we’re back in New York.”
Gemma jumped, startled at the sight of the giant furry spider bobbing up and down in front of the kitchen window in front of them as Conner worked to attach it to the roof.
Hayley couldn’t help but laugh.
“He’s like a big kid,” Gemma said, smiling. But then the smile faded and she became more serious. “I just hate the idea of hurting him.”
Hayley put a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Well, you don’t have to do anything tonight. Let’s just go out, the four of us, and have a nice dinner.”
“Where’s Bruce taking us?”
“You can ask him yourself. He just pulled in,” Hayley said as Bruce’s car rolled to a stop in the driveway behind her parked Kia.
Before Bruce had the chance to even step out of his car, suddenly they heard a man scream, some stumbling sounds on the roof, and then Conner’s body fell from the sky, landing hard on the hood of Bruce’s car.
Island Food & Spirits
BY
H AYLEY POWELL
There are two things that I have loved for as long as I can remember: Halloween and sandwiches. And not necessarily in that order. Well, you can imagine how excited I was when a new food truck called Wicked ’Wiches (as in sandwiches) rolled into town in early October just
a few weeks shy of my favorite holiday. And let me tell you, the awesome assortment of subs and wraps and paninis on the menu did not disappoint!
Of course as I am known to do, I immediately raced home after trying a few and attempted to recreate them in my own kitchen, especially with that new husband of mine who, like me, loves to eat. It’s really our secret to a successful marriage: matching appetites!
What we don’t share is a love of Halloween. Truth be told, Bruce hates it. Every year he complains about the town going to H-E-double hockey sticks! Kids running around throwing eggs and spraying shaving cream and generally on a mission to scare people. Not to mention all the dentist bills people have to pay when their kids get cavities from all that sugary candy! Bruce gets so grumpy this time of year I call him Halloween Scrooge.
This all might have something to do with an episode that happened a few years ago when Bruce accompanied me to the annual Cross House of Horrors, a makeshift haunted house sponsored by a now sadly deceased local resident, master of horror novelist Norman Cross. The haunted house, open in early October through Halloween, was, to put it mildly, a fright fest with college kids hired to play monsters, evil spirits, and movie serial killers.
Well, suffice it to say, Bruce, who scares rather easily, did not enjoy the heart-stopping experience at all. And since I was the one who had dragged him there, the blame was placed squarely on my shoulders.
So last Halloween, when Bruce and I had officially begun dating, I had one of those lightbulb moments. I came up with the idea of treating Bruce to a Haunted Hayride. Now I know what you’re all thinking: Hayley, why on earth would you subject your poor husband-to-be to something like that knowing how much he hates to be scared? Well, here’s the thing. The Haunted Hayride, which was organized and run by the Southwest Fire Department, was what you would call “family friendly,” which means it was designed for children of all ages. I knew there would be nothing too spine-chilling that might put a strain on Bruce’s heart.
Bruce balked at first, but after quickly explaining how he would be among five-year-olds, and with the bribe of bringing some homemade Italian subs and a thermos of cocktails to enjoy after the ride, Bruce finally got on board.
Literally.
After standing in a long line of people to purchase tickets, we were escorted to a large wooden wagon decked out with hay-bale seats, spider webs, and hanging lanterns. The wagon was hitched up to a tractor trailer driven by a headless horseman. Nothing too frightening. Bruce even laughed at the headless horseman and said he might go as one next year. I was ecstatic he was finally getting into the Halloween spirit.
As the tractor lurched forward, Bruce grabbed my hand and appeared slightly nervous as we headed toward an opening in the woods dimly lit by eerily glowing lanterns. I leaned in and whispered in Bruce’s ear, “Don’t worry. It’s all going to be very G-rated, nothing too spooky. Maybe a cardboard cutout of Casper the Friendly Ghost.”
My first clue that something was amiss was when I looked around at everyone else in the wagon and didn’t see any small children, just adults and a few raucous teenagers. I turned to the woman sitting on my other side and casually mentioned that I found it strange that there weren’t more kids on such a family friendly ride. The woman laughed and noted, “What parent in their right mind would bring a child on this ride tonight of all nights?” When I asked what she meant, the woman informed me that tonight was the special “Adults-Only” ride. You had to be at least sixteen years old to come on board because the scares in store were too dark and horrifying for little kids. She excitedly added, “And I’ve heard this year is the most hair-raising ride yet!”
I wanted to grab Bruce and jump out of the wagon, but it was too late. We were already deep inside the dark woods. Suddenly ear-splitting screams and eerie music were blasting out of speakers strategically placed around us. Then, bloodthirsty zombies surrounded the wagon, moaning and clawing at us. Bruce’s eyes popped open and he screamed like a little girl, which I found adorable, but refrained from commenting on in this rather tense moment. I felt so guilty. Bruce squeezed my hand so hard he cut off my circulation!
Thankfully, the zombies finally receded and we continued on our way. We came upon a docile-looking family roasting marshmallows over a campfire. The wagon slowed and we were able to watch the peaceful, serene scene until suddenly out of nowhere a marauding band of chain-saw-wielding lumberjacks came out of hiding and chased the family around before turning their attention toward us. The lumberjacks suddenly ran up behind the wagon, which was now racing to escape. I thought Bruce was going to faint. In fact, he may have actually passed out for a moment, or maybe he was just frozen in a state of shock. But then, as a lumberjack barreled up along the side of the wagon, waving his chain saw inches from Bruce, he was wide-awake, waving his arms, and screaming again!
When the last of the killer lumberjacks had run back into the darkness of the woods, I finally had the time to explain my unfortunate mistake to Bruce. Suffice it to say, he was not happy about it, and even the promise of gorging on my delicious subs and washing them down with a few strong cocktails when this terrible nightmare was over did not seem to brighten his mood in the least.
The rest of the frights were a little less gruesome: a scary ghost, knife-wielding goblins, a cackling witch. Not for kids, but Bruce wouldn’t have to start taking heart medicine.
Mercifully, the wagon finally came to a jarring halt. I thought the ride might be over, but unfortunately it wasn’t because hundreds of furry, fuzzy, gross black spiders suddenly dropped from the sky and fell all around us, onto the wagon, and worst of all on top of our heads. Everyone in the back of the wagon screamed and brushed the terrifying spiders away! It took me a few panicked moments to realize that the spiders were just a lot of fake rubber spiders on strings descending from the trees while others were being thrown at us by people hiding in the woods.
Unfortunately, poor Bruce, who has a crippling fear of spiders, had seen enough. He pushed me out of the way, leaped over the side of the wagon, and hightailed it out of there. I wasn’t sure if Bruce was running away from me or the spiders.
I knew that would be the last time I would ever get Bruce Linney to join me on a Haunted Hayride. But with that said, I had a whole year to butter him up with my delicious Italian subs and sandwiches so I wasn’t going to count him out just yet.
Speaking of subs, this Italian sub is a great addition to any party, and topped off with a mouth-watering Maple Bourbon Cocktail on a chilly October evening, well, let’s just say, it’s scary good!
MAPLE BOURBON COCKTAIL
INGREDIENTS
2 ounces bourbon
1 ounce pure maple syrup
½ ounce fresh-squeezed lemon
Pinch of ground cinnamon
In a cocktail glass, add your bourbon and maple syrup and stir until combined.
Add the lemon juice, pinch of cinnamon, and ice cubes, and then stir and enjoy!
ITALIAN SUB
INGREDIENTS
1 pound of deli ham
1 small onion, sliced
1 tomato, sliced
1 green pepper, sliced
8 slices white American deli cheese
Dill pickles
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil
Red wine vinegar
4 Italian sub rolls
Cut your rolls in half, but not completely through. Layer your cheese and ham on each of your rolls. Top with pickles, tomatoes, onion, and green pepper.
Drizzle with olive oil and vinegar, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
And don’t forget to serve with some crunchy potato chips!
Chapter 8
By the time Conner had rolled off the hood of Bruce’s car and landed facedown on the ground, moaning, Bruce had already jumped out of the driver’s seat, and was kneeling at his side as Hayley and Gemma came flying out the back door to see if Conner was all right.
Bruce gently touched his back. “You okay t
here, buddy?”
Conner didn’t answer at first because the wind had been knocked out of him, but soon he managed to nod his head a bit, and then gasp, “Yes, but could you help me stand up, please?”
“No!” Gemma cried. “He may have broken a bone or something and moving him could make it worse!”
Conner pressed the palms of his hands on the ground and rolled over on his back so he was facing up and smiled at Gemma. “It’s okay, Gemma. I’m fine.” He then held out his hand, which Bruce grasped, and slowly, Bruce carefully helped to lift him up onto his feet. Conner slowly dusted himself off. “Seriously, I don’t think anything’s broken.”
He took a step and winced in pain.
“I think we should take you to a doctor and get you checked out,” Hayley urged.
Conner shook his head. “No, please. It was just a shock falling like that. I only have a few scrapes and bruises. Seriously, if I honestly felt there was something wrong, I’d go straight to the hospital.”
They all stared at him skeptically, but Conner was insistent. He did agree to postpone finishing the rooftop decorations until a later time, and also promised not to proceed without Bruce present to keep watch and catch him if he happened to fall again. He wanted to forget this whole clumsy accident happened and just go to dinner as planned. He limped inside the house to change his shirt, again dismissing a slightly sprained ankle and begging them all to relax.
When he reemerged, his foot appeared to already be better. They piled into Bruce’s car, no one wanting to bring up the now heavily dented front hood, a result of Conner’s fall. They drove to McKay’s on Main Street, which was one of the few restaurants in town still open after the tourist season had died down after Labor Day. They were sipping on cocktails and wine and munching on pretzels and beer cheese, perusing the menu, deciding on their entrees, when Hayley noticed Conner wincing again.