The Problem With Pumpkins

by Linda V. Palmer

  The Problem With Pumpkins

  A Halloween Novel Byte

  By

  Linda V. Palmer

  Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon

  2011

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-123-3

  ISBN 10: 1-60174-123-5

  The Problem with Pumpkins

  Copyright © 2011 by Linda Varner Palmer

  Cover design

  Copyright © 2011 by Judith B. Glad

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  Published by Uncial Press,

  an imprint of GCT, Inc.

  Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

  The Problem with Pumpkins

  Another Halloween. Oh joy.

  And on a Saturday night, which meant I got stuck yet again with taking my little brothers trick or treating. My mom, an ER doc, worked weekends at Johnsonville General, and my dad, the sheriff, would definitely be out and about, scouting the neighborhoods for tricksters.

  So why did I hate Halloween? Because I adored my brothers and taking candy from strangers didn’t make sense. So what if we knew everyone by name? Even the neighbors we trusted could have deep dark secrets. Does the name Jeffrey Dahmer rattle your chain? I’d much rather buy each of them ten dollars worth of candy at Wal-Mart. At least I’d be sure they wouldn’t bite down on razorblades or be drugged senseless as they gobbled it down.

  This year, Corey and Caden, both aged six, intended to dress up as miniature Jack Sparrows. That meant I had to cart twin pirates all over the neighborhood. Why oh why couldn’t they be something more age appropriate like Spongebob or Jimmy Neutron or even Alvin? But no. They had to impersonate a drunken sea captain.

  And as usual the guys wanted a jack o’lantern. So Halloween morning I loaded them into my Beetle and drove us to the Pumpkin Patch. An enterprising farmer in the next county had opened it many years ago, providing folks the chance to pick a pumpkin right off the vine. Since then, a petting zoo, pony rides, and a concession stand had been added. The twins loved to go there, and, to be honest, so did I.

  Thanks to gorgeous weather and the fact that we’d waited until the last minute, the place crawled with parents and their rowdy kids. Of course my two jokers picked out the biggest pumpkin in the patch, and indulgent me bought it for them. When I paid, the farmer motioned for a guy wearing patched overalls, a plaid flannel shirt, and a ratty straw hat to load it up for us. I barely gave him a glance.

  My bad.

  Because when he walked up with our ginormous pumpkin I did a double take.

  Holy bucking broomsticks! He had eyes even bluer than my little brothers, something I hadn’t believed possible. Could that hayseed get-up be nothing more than a costume? And did it even matter if it wasn’t?

  Since I could so handle haystacks, scarecrows, and ee-i-ee-i-oh, I gave him my brightest smile and thoughtlessly stuck out my right hand. “Hi. I’m Maggie Redmond. This is Caden, and this is Corey, my brothers.”

  The poor guy looked blankly at my stupid hand, which he couldn’t possibly shake, then at me. “Where do you want this?”

  Feeling like a total idiot, I walked to the front of the VW and opened the hatch for him. He set the pumpkin inside and stepped back. I shut the lid.

  When I turned, I bumped smack into his extended hand. I looked up in surprise.

  He grinned. “Brendon Fletcher.”

  “Oh, um, nice to meet you.” We shook on it, then just stared at each other, apparently mutually dumbstruck, until Caden yanked hard on the hem of my tank top.

  “Can we get a candy bar?”

  Corey nodded eagerly. “And a soda?”

  That got my attention. “No way,” I told them, absently tugging my shirt back up so my bra wouldn’t show. “You guys’ll get all the junk food you can possibly handle tonight.”

  “Mom sells popcorn and apple cider, too.” Brendon pointed to the concession stand. “They’re pretty healthy.”

  Mom? Was this his family’s place? “Thanks.” Why hadn’t I seen this guy at school? He looked about my age. “Do you go to Southside?” I attended Northside, which might explain things.

  “This is Wade County.”

  “Oh, right. Duh.” I’d forgotten about crossing the county line.

  “And I—”

  “Magpie! We’re hungry.” Cory reached for my shirt again.

  I slapped his hand away and gave him the evil eye so he’d shut up. It worked, but he had a twin.

  “Come onnnn.” Caden yanked on the back pocket of my jeans, never good for low rise waistlines. Thank goodness I’d worn a belt or they’d have landed around my knees.

  Just then a guy walked up behind Brendon. “Bro, quit flirting with the customers and get busy. Some blue hair wants ten from the high patch.”

  I loved the sudden pink on Brendon’s cheeks and the way he had to drag his gaze from my belly button to his…brother, maybe?

  “High patch?”

  Brendon looked back at me. “That’s where the biggest ones grow.”

  Ours wasn’t? “Shhh!” I flicked a telling glance at my brothers.

  He caught it and winced. “Sorry.”

  Luckily Caden and Corey were focused so hard on the concession stand, they hadn’t heard the bad news.

  “Well, I’d better go before my guys undress me.” I turned away. “Catch you later.”

  “Are you saying I can call you…?”

  Huh? I pivoted to face him again. “Yeah, sure.” I jubilantly recited my cell number.

  He dug a Sharpie from his pocket and wrote it in his palm, right under three other numbers.

  My heart sank like a toad in a bubbling cauldron. At this rate, his hand would be covered in black digits by the end of the day, and I clearly hadn’t made the top of the list.

  “Later then, Magpie.” He flashed a teasing grin.

  “Right.”

  Bummed, I went to the concession stand and bought two bags of popcorn and three apple ciders. Brendon’s mom, a pretty woman, seemed really nice. We took our stuff to-go so the boys could visit the petting zoo. I’ll admit I discreetly checked out Brendon while they fed popcorn to the goats and piglets. A couple of times, I caught him checking me out, too. He even smiled once, but I didn’t smile back or look his way again. I couldn’t get all those other phone numbers out of my head.

  We got home around lunchtime. The boys, starved already, had hotdogs. I ate a banana. Then we got busy with the jack o’lantern. As I carved, I thought of Brendon. I couldn’t believe I’d actually introduced myself to him. Normally, I let the guy make the first move, which could be why I didn’t have a boyfriend. But something about Brendon had drawn me in. Now, of course, I felt super stupid.

  Around five, in the middle of dressing the boys in their pirate outfits and wigs, I heard the phone rang.

  “Maggie? It’s Brendon, the guy from the Pumpkin Patch.”

  As if I’d forget him. Had he gotten to me already? Did that mean all the other palm possibles had turned him down? “Hey.”

  “Are you up to your elbows in pumpkin seeds and goo yet?”

  “Oh, we’re way past that and into dreadlocks and pieces of eight.”

  “Huh?”

  I explained about the costumes. “So y
our parents own the Pumpkin Patch?”

  “My grandparents…well, just my Mamaw now. Papaw died last month.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. He’s way better off.” He hesitated. “I know this is short notice, but are you, um, busy tonight?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s Halloween, remember?”

  “So you have a party to go to?”

  “No party. I’m taking my little brothers trick or treating. My parents work nights.”

  “Oh.” He sounded really flustered. “Would you care if my niece and I tagged along, or has your boyfriend already called dibs on that?”

  I smiled in spite of my doubts. “No boyfriend, either. How old is your niece?”

  “Pearl’s five. She actually lives in Johnsonville.”

  “And you really want to go with us? Caden and Corey will walk your legs off.”

  “No problem. Are you dressing up?”

  “You mean wearing a costume? As if.”

  “Okay.” Now he sounded disappointed.

  “Did you want to?”

  “I sort of promised Pearl I would, and your brothers would probably love it.”

  What a guy. “Will you be going as Old McDonald?”

  He burst out laughing. “Not likely. I’ve already had all of that I can stand for one day.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’ll surprise you.”

  We worked out the details, agreeing to meet at the park across the street at six o’clock. I didn’t give him my actual address since he had that whole stranger thing going for him, but felt pretty good about everything. The moment I hung up the phone, I ran to my closet. I already knew exactly who I’d be going as. But before I could pull out my would-be costume, the phone rang again.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. This is Simone DeAngelo. Is this Becca?”

  I scraped my chin off the floor. Great Aunt Simone had never called this house as far as I knew. “No, this is Maggie.”

  “Maggie! You sound so grown up.” Simone, my mom’s aunt by marriage, lived across town in a Victorian mansion that belonged her late husband, Clifford. She’d apparently stolen his heart at Mardi Gras, where he never should’ve been at his age, resulting in a hasty marriage. When Uncle Cliff died two months after the wedding, the whole family believed she’d murdered him for his money. Why else would a twenty-something Goth marry a seventy-nine-year-old geezer?

  “I’m eighteen.” I tried to be friendly. Dr. Mom had told everyone she thought Clifford died of natural causes. But his grown children didn’t believe a word of it and basically shunned his young widow, who may not have inherited the family home, but got to live in it as long as she wanted.

  “Wow. How old are the boys now?”

  “Six.”

  “Do they still have those delicious blue eyes?”

  Delicious? “Um, yeah. Runs in the family, well, except for me. I got Dad’s brown eyes.”

  “I remember.” She laughed. “I’m calling to invite you guys to drop by tonight while you’re out trick or treating. I’ve made some candy apples just for you. My own recipe. Can’t wait to see your faces when you bite into them.”

  How random was that? “Why, thanks.”

  “You remember where I live?”

  “Of course. We’ll see you later.”

  I wondered about Simone as I finished up the boys and got ready, myself. Was she lonely or something? I wouldn’t have been surprised. Johnsonville didn’t have many Goth types, and the family sure hadn’t come through for her.

  I noticed the moon on the rise as we stepped outside just before six. Huge, full, and orange as a pumpkin, it looked down at us. For some reason, it gave me the creeps. I next saw a black cat, which crossed the sidewalk right in front of us. Of course I braked. The boys, oblivious, did not. Since they charged right over the cat’s tracks, I had no choice but to follow. Couldn’t let them find bad luck all alone, could I?

  Right away, I spotted a Lost Boy sitting on a park bench with a Hannah Montana beside him. I guessed them to be Brendon and Pearl, though from a distance, I couldn’t be sure. And I’d thought Keifer Sutherland made an amazing vampire. Wow. As we drew closer, I realized Brendon’s spiked brown hair; leather everything; and single, dangly earring made him look nothing but hot. I suddenly wondered how it felt to kiss a guy with fake fangs.

  Maybe I’d find out before the night ended.

  Caden crooned his admiration. “Wicked!”

  “Totally,” said Corey, wide eyed. They ignored Pearl, an absolute angel in her wig and rock star getup. Too many cooties, I guessed.

  Brendon grinned. “Sandy, huh?”

  “Right in one.” I slowly pirouetted so he could see the front and back of my frothy white formal, a leftover from my cousin’s wedding six months ago. All Marsha’s bridesmaids, including me, had mentally groaned when she picked everything out. The tulle ruffles hit me mid-calf, revealing T-strap heels that completed my retro look—totally Grease except for the cell phone tucked into my satin ribbon waistband.

  “Like the do.”

  “Thanks.” I patted my stiff brown hair, pulled back on top with the rest worn down in an exaggerated flip, thanks to hot rollers, teasing, and tons of spray. “Ready?”

  “Sure.”

  While the kids did their thing, we stood on the sidewalk and got to know each other better. I learned he had three older brothers, two of them married with kids, and that his parents bred horses. He learned what my folks did. He told me he played football and liked slasher movies. I told him I didn’t do sports and preferred science fiction. Oh how I wanted to ask about the numbers still scrawled on his palm. But I couldn’t think of a way to do it.

  “Do you take your niece out every year?”

  “No, but I had to bring pumpkins into town for some customers, and knew you lived around here someplace, so I volunteered.”

  “I guess you got everything delivered okay.”

  Brendon nodded. “Yeah.” He opened his hand, to my delight, and pointed to the numbers on top. “Twenty went to eleven-fifty-six 5th Avenue.”

  Two-zero-one-one-five-six-five. It wasn’t a phone number at all!

  He pointed to the next row of digits. “The owner of this number is a youth director at Johnsonville Baptist. We donated thirty pumpkins for their carving contest later tonight. I met him in their parking lot.”

  By now I beamed at him.

  “This is you, of course. And this number belongs to some chick who’s having a midnight costume thing. I had to call to be sure she was home before I delivered.” He shivered.

  “Are you cold?” He wore the leather jacket, after all. I had the spaghetti straps.

  “Nah. Just thinking about that delivery gives me the jitters. It was this big old house at the end of Hecate Cove. One of those Victorian ones. I couldn’t wait to get outta there.”

  Uh-oh. “Was the chick’s name Simone, by any chance?”

  His jaw dropped. “You know her?”

  “That’s my great aunt.”

  “Shit! I’m so sorry.”

  I laughed away his embarrassment. “It’s okay. We’ve only met once, at a funeral.” I told him all the juicy details of the marriage.

  “She invited me to her party.”

  I gasped. “Aunt Simone macked on you?”

  “Yep. How old is she, anyway?”

  “Too young to be anyone’s great aunt and too old to seduce teenage boys.”

  “I’m actually twenty, but just. Birthday was Wednesday. How old are you?”

  I told him. “I’m a senior. Are you in college?”

  “I start Johnsonville Community in January. Delayed it for a bit to help take care of my granddad. The chemo really made him sick.”

  Touched, I didn’t know what to say to that. I blinked hastily to clear the moisture filling my eyes and tried to crack a joke. “So Simone asked you to her party. Well, well, well. You could always drop by after you take Pearl home.”

  �
�Or not. She really creeped me out.”

  “Why? What’d she do?”

  Brendon shook his head instead of answering.

  Wasn’t sure what that meant. “Then I guess you won’t be going with us to get our poisoned apples.”

  “You’re trick or treating there?” He looked sincerely shocked.

  “We are.” I explained about the special treats she’d made.

  “Not to diss your aunt, but you might want to chunk that fruit instead of eating it.”

  “Why?”

  “Two words: Snow and White.” He laughed, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes, and I thought he actually seemed a little worried.

  Around eight-thirty, Pearl’s little legs had enough. In truth, they’d given out hours earlier, but Brendon took up the slack and carried her. What a sight they made, the scary vamp with the adoring mini-rock star riding on his shoulders. Since I’d officially fallen in love with him about an hour before that, I hung back a little every now and then, enjoying the feel of his loaned jacket and cherishing the view of his perfect butt.

  The boys and I rode with Brendon in his pick-up truck to take Pearl home. I tried to let him off the hook as far as dropping by Simone’s, but he insisted on driving us there and parking on the street, right outside the tall iron gate. We all piled out of the truck, but only Cade, Corey and I actually made it to the steps of the lighted front porch. Without explanation, Brendon dropped out en route, staying in the shadows on the lawn, instead.

  I thumped the antique door knocker several times. The sound echoed eerily in the night. While we waited, we counted the jack o’lanterns artfully arranged on the front porch: thirteen.

  Suddenly the heavy wooden door creaked open. Simone stood there, looking scarier than Elvira with extreme eye liner, long raven hair, and black lipstick. The boys cowered against me.

  “Now that’s a costume.” Trying to keep things friendly, I made a show of eyeing her gauzy black dress.

  Giving us a half smile, she spread her arms and twirled. The sleeves, long and loose, flapped like bat wings. Her tiered skirt swirled below her black leather bustier—the kind that laced in front and pushed her boobs up under her chin. Pointy-toed boots completed the look.

  “Yep,” I said, refusing to be intimidated though I felt an odd chill. “Very, very witchy.”