Instead, a yellow and red panel truck emblazoned with the logo of Matt’s Marvelous Mazes stopped at the widest part of the driveway, opposite the house. Ally squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again and looked out. It was still there. Matt hadn’t told anyone her secret.
Half a dozen young adults wearing matching yellow and red T-shirts over their jeans poured out of the truck. Four of them opened the back doors and began removing brightly painted sections of wood, directed by a fifth young woman consulting a clipboard. The sixth young man jogged up to the front door and rang the buzzer.
Ally opened the door to a fresh-faced young man of college age.
“Good morning, ma’am. We’re here from Matt’s Marvelous Mazes to set up the ticket booths, security platforms, fencing and signage. Would you like to review Mr. Cantrell’s designs for the site before we begin setting things up?”
His tone of voice said clearly that he didn’t expect her to be interested, or if, by some stretch of the imagination she was actually interested, he certainly didn’t expect her to be able to understand the schematics. But asking the question was part of his job, so he asked.
“Yes, I would. Thank you.”
The young man blinked, then quickly recovered. “Hang on. Jeannine’s got the plans. I’ll just be five seconds.”
He turned and sprinted over to the young woman with the clipboard.
They held a quick discussion, the young woman darting repeated glares at the house, but eventually she surrendered her clipboard. The young man jogged back to Ally, and held out the stack of papers, on the top of which were the plans for her maze.
She glanced at the plans, quickly confirming that they were targeting the correct field. Their structures would be on grass or dirt, not land used for crops or garden. And the traffic patterns of people walking from the parking area, to the ticket booth, to the maze, to the refreshment stand, and back to the parking area, did not cross cropland or gardens.
Her fingers curled around the cool Lucite clipboard. She remembered sitting next to Matt in her dining room while he sketched out his plans on her sheet of graph paper, after his tour of the field. He’d been so impressed with the accuracy of her rendering. She’d just been happy he hadn’t noticed anything too unusual about her field.
What would have happened if she’d told him the truth then? When he’d asked about the chrysanthemums, what if she’d explained that the orange flowers had been part of a spell to impart vitality to the popcorn plants, urging them to one final growth spurt before harvest? Or explained how her towers of aventurine also encouraged the plants they watched over to grow?
She shook her head. He’d have dismissed her as a crazy woman. It wasn’t until after they’d worked together in the field for those two days that they’d built up enough trust for him to possibly accept her beliefs. She could have told him then, explaining why the healing salve was so much more potent than its list of ingredients would seem to indicate. But she’d cared more about getting him out of his pants and into hers than she had about rationalizing or explaining her beliefs. Her wants and desires had put Cindy’s future at risk.
“Ma’am? Is there a problem with the design?”
“What?”
“You were shaking your head. Is there a problem with Mr. Cantrell’s design?”
“Oh. No, I was thinking of something else. The plans are fine.”
She handed over the clipboard, reluctant to release the pages bearing Matt’s neat handwriting. He’d been true to his word. The truck full of busy young people meant that Matt planned to ensure the maze’s success. Knowing him, he’d want to be on site when the maze opened, making sure that he was available to address any last minute concerns.
Ally would have at least one chance to explain that her witchcraft was nothing more than being in tune with the natural cycle of life, and convince him to remain silent about her witchcraft. She needed to focus on that, and not on her one night in Matt’s arms. Her personal desires could not be allowed to endanger Cindy’s future again.
* * * * *
Matt glanced at his watch as he folded the signed receipts acknowledging the contents of the ticket booth cash drawers. Quarter of four, right on schedule. The maze would open at four o’clock today, their first day of business, closing half an hour after sunset. They’d keep the same hours during all the weekdays, and stay open dawn to dusk on the weekends.
Student volunteers from Hargrove High School were providing the labor, with the Key Club and Honor Society running the ticket booth, the band, choir, and cheerleaders staffing the refreshment stand, and members of the football team working security. They, more than anyone, wanted this fundraiser to be a success. Having reached the pinnacle of high school social groups, they’d be devastated to have to change schools and be relegated to the underlings of the new school’s elite.
Matt’s gaze passed over the red and yellow “Grand Opening” banner, checking one last time that everything was in readiness. Then, despite his promises to himself, he found his gaze wandering farther afield, to the barn housing Ally’s workshop.
He blinked, but the slender strawberry blonde strolling toward the maze was no mirage. Ally was coming out to see him.
He nonchalantly walked along the edge of the maze, pretending to inspect the orange plastic fencing that surrounded it. A quick glance to his side confirmed that she’d altered her course to intercept him, far from the listening ears of the teenagers.
As soon as she drew close enough to hear him, he said, “Everything’s ready. The maze will open on schedule.”
Ally glanced around her at the scene, her peaceful farm transformed into something resembling a carnival midway.
“I can’t believe it all came together. It wouldn’t have without all your hard work. Thank you.”
Matt shrugged, wishing he could walk away. Because he really wished he could grab Ally and kiss her. His body didn’t care that she’d betrayed him, drugging him with God knows what sort of concoction. It just remembered how it felt to be wrapped around her warm, supple body, his cock imbedded to the hilt in her welcoming embrace, while they kissed each other senseless.
“About the other night, in my workshop…”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for not saying anything to anyone.”
He shrugged again.
Ally stared at her feet, absently toeing a clod of dirt with one scuffed work boot. “I know you think it’s all crazy, but witchcraft really isn’t like ‘Bewitched’ or ‘Sabrina the Teenaged Witch’. It’s about the cycle of nature and being in tune with that.”
He glanced around, making certain that the high schoolers were still too far away to hear them. He tried to keep his voice soft, despite his anger.
“Like your traditional Vermont folk wisdom of pouring apple cider on your field? I fell for every single one of your cockamamie explanations. You must’ve thought I was an idiot.”
Ally shook her head, reaching out to him, then pulling her hand back before she could touch him. “I didn’t lie, Matt. That really is a piece of Vermont folk wisdom. Witchcraft and folk wisdom have more in common than most people realize. Both are about living in harmony with nature, and finding natural cures for problems. My potion just had a little more oomph in it than plain cider.”
He snorted. “That’s your plan for ensuring your sister’s farm is successful? Adding ‘oomph’?”
“No, there’s more—”
“You’ve been lucky so far. But what happens when your luck turns? Start sacrificing the chickens?”
Two bright spots of color bloomed in her cheeks, and her blue eyes blazed. “Magic is not a replacement for hard work and thorough planning, it’s an enhancement. I thought you’d learned at least that much about me while we were working together. But if your mind is closed, nothing I can say will open it. Good-bye, Matt.”
Ally turned sharply on her heel and strode away, leaving him with the feeling that he’d seriously insulted her. He hadn’t meant
to. In fact, if he didn’t still care so damn much about her and her family, he wouldn’t have pressed the issue. But he couldn’t bear to have her family lose their farm and see Susan and Cindy suffer the way his mother and sister had suffered from his father’s pie in the sky ideas.
Matt shoved his hand through his hair, wishing he’d never gotten involved. He’d see the maze through until the end, because he had a responsibility to Hargrove. But he hoped Ally stayed away from him whenever he had to be on-site. Seeing her made him want to throw caution aside, forget his plans, and just drag her off and make love to her. That way lay the slippery slope that had been his father’s downfall. One decision made on the basis of feelings led to another, led to another, led to losing all ability to make a plan and stick to it. Matt knew better. It wouldn’t happen to him. However much it hurt to stay strong.
* * * * *
By the time the autumnal equinox rolled around near the end of September, the maze had been open for nearly a month, and had turned enough profit that the school district could meet its financial obligations for another year. The school board had already started researching grants they could apply for to bolster next year’s budget, and the middle-school students were making the topic of their yearly school-wide competition, “Innovation in Moneymaking,” to come up with other unusual ideas to generate income for the school. Cindy’s future in Hargrove seemed secure.
Even better, although the maze technically opened at four in the afternoon, Susan had proven both willing and able to sell tickets and provide security to people who arrived before that time. She’d shown none of the dreamy absent-mindedness that characterized the rest of her activities, just as she’d been clearheaded while helping Ally and Matt harvest the corn for the maze.
After much struggling for an explanation, Ally had realized this was the first activity she’d been involved in that had no frame of reference to her dead husband. And that pointed the way toward Susan’s eventual recovery. She needed to be encouraged to do things Brian had never done. Ally wasn’t sure what those things might be, but for the first time in a while, she had hope that they’d find a solution to her sister’s grief more concrete than simply moving on with her life.
And that meant she could move on with her own life, soon. Her thoughts turned to Matt, as they so often did, but she ruthlessly closed off that avenue of exploration. She hadn’t spoken to him since the opening day of the maze. Letting him believe the popular nonsense about witches was an effective way to keep him away from her, and she needed him to stay away. How could she put Cindy’s wants and needs ahead of her own when Matt was around to remind her so vividly of what she desired?
Sighing, Ally cleared her mind of distractions, and focused—again—on the three candle flames in front of her. She sat on the old woolen blanket, in the center of a protective circle at the heart of the corn maze. The scene was heart-stoppingly similar to the time she and Matt had made love. But this time, she was using the power of the Mabon ritual to focus on the lessons she needed to learn from the past year of her life, so that she could move forward in the right direction.
She took another swig of the Mabon mead, the enchanted apple mead that she’d been brewing when Matt discovered her. Narrowing her eyes, she examined the bottle. Almost empty. It was supposed to lower her inhibitions, freeing her perceptions to see whatever visions waited for her in the dancing flames. So far, the only thing she’d seen had been spots, when she stared too long into the flames.
Maybe Matt’s interruption that night had ruined the enchantment. Or her agitation after he left had caused it to spoil. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t getting any inspiration tonight.
She gulped the last of the mead, then set the empty bottle on the blanket beside her. Five more minutes. If she didn’t see anything in the flames by then, she was going home.
Squinting, Ally tried to form images in the glowing candlewicks, similar to finding shapes in the clouds. Was that possibly a horse? Something with four legs, at any rate, but the neck was too long. Maybe a giraffe?
The world around her shifted and rippled, and Ally realized she was looking at a high-backed chair. The room had a reddish cast to the pervasive light, but that was the only evidence of fire.
The figure in the chair shifted, revealing a woman draped in a black cloak, hiding her face behind a stiff black mask on an ebony stick. Even her hands were concealed within black leather gloves. Yet somehow, Ally knew she was looking at herself.
Susan appeared in the room, leading Cindy toward the seated figure. They stood in a frozen tableau, not speaking, not moving. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, Cindy aged, growing taller and more like Susan at every moment. Meanwhile, the figure in the chair became stooped and hunchbacked, shriveling beneath her cloak, and Susan faded into insubstantiality, finally disappearing all together.
Cindy, now a full-grown woman, tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her lips curling in an expression of disgust, and turned away from the withered woman in the chair.
Ally tried to reach out to her, to stop her or call her back, but she had no form, no voice in this place. She could only see the vision played out before her.
Then Matt appeared in her vision, turning Cindy around and walking her back to her place beside the chair. As they approached, Cindy grew younger, until she was once again a ten-year-old child. Susan had reappeared as well, and the figure in the chair was once again sitting tall and proud.
Matt released Cindy and stepped away, pausing before turning and leaving himself. His eyes met the gaze of the seated woman, and slowly, she stood, lowering her mask. Ally was right. It was her.
Then the woman in the vision cast off her black cloak, revealing shimmering wings of iridescent gossamer. Ally gasped at the beauty of them, and turned to see Matt’s reaction. His eyes darkened with passion, and he held out his hand to her.
She went to him, and he enfolded her in his embrace, faerie wings and all.
Behind him, Cindy again began to age. But this time, Susan remained beside her, growing more substantial and brightly colored with every passing year. When Cindy reached adulthood, she tilted her head and smiled at her mother. Susan put an arm around her, and the two of them turned to beam at Ally and Matt.
Ally blinked, shocked to find herself once again sitting on the woolen blanket, her eyes watering from having been staring into the candle flames.
Closing her eyes, she buried her face in her hands. How could she have been such an idiot? The lesson was never supposed to have been to put Cindy’s needs ahead of her own. The lesson was supposed to have been to be herself.
What sort of an example was she setting her niece by hiding such an essential part of herself?
She remembered Matt’s words, right before he’d turned and walked out of the barn. I thought I loved you. But I couldn’t have. I never knew you at all.
It hadn’t been her witchcraft that had turned him away, it had been her dishonesty. But she still had a chance to win him back. She’d tell him everything. She’d even tell him the secret he hadn’t learned — that she’d fallen in love with him, too.
* * * * *
Matt drove aimlessly down the gravel roads, his truck’s headlights slicing twin cones of stark shadows and color through the moon-brightened scenery. The growl of his truck’s powerful engine failed to soothe him, so he kept driving. And driving. Until eventually he recognized the road he was on. It was the one that passed by Ally’s farm.
He groaned. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t make any more nighttime drive-bys of her farm. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need him looking after her, checking up on her to make sure everything was all right. She didn’t need him, period. She’d made that more than clear.
He’d been there every afternoon to open the maze. Sometimes he’d spoken to Susan. Sometimes he’d spoken to Cindy. But he’d never to spoken to Ally. She was always busy elsewhere on the farm.
She’d been busy in town, too. No longer the
outsider, she was considered the savior of the Hargrove school system by the grateful parents. People who had dismissed her as just another organic farmer out to steal their profits, or an uppity university type who hadn’t paid her dues to the land, now welcomed her as a member of the town.
How ironic that he’d feared being unable to propose to her if she wasn’t accepted by the town. He’d been completely blindsided by the real reason he couldn’t propose.
His sensible side urged him to be thankful she wanted nothing more to do with him. But Matt was already well down the slippery slope to a life full of unplanned, illogical actions. This endless driving around night after night served no plan but making the gas station owners richer at his expense. Yet he was helpless to stop himself.
He frowned, his attention caught by a glitter of light in the fields where no light should be. Careful not to end up in a drainage ditch, he pulled off the side of the road and cut the lights.
Yes! He was right. A flickering orange light shone from the direction of the maze. Fire!
Matt was out of the truck and running toward the maze before he had a chance to think. From the amount of light, the fire looked small and well-contained. For now. Some of the kids had probably decided that the cozy center of the maze would be a perfect make-out location, and lit a campfire to keep them warm in the cool night.
Matt’s gut clenched, remembering what a wonderful make-out location it had been. His outrage at the trespassing kids grew, anger at their risking the maze and the money it was making for Hargrove, mingling with envy.
He reached the security platform at the corner of the maze, and hastily climbed to the top. He wanted to see which kids were responsible before he charged in there, scattering them into the maze.
There were no kids. No campfire. Ally sat on the plaid woolen blanket he remembered so well, three fat pillar candles on iron candle stands before her.
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