Pumpkins and Promises

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Pumpkins and Promises Page 7

by Elle Rush


  It didn’t take Aaron long to join her. He stuck his legs out straight and flexed his feet. Little pieces of straw fell to the ground. “How much longer?” he asked.

  “Four more hours for ticket sales. Five till the last of the stragglers should be out. Five and a half before we should be headed home.” It was going to be a long day. Brooke didn’t know if this was a regular Saturday at the corn maze, or if extra people were coming out to support the high school. Either way, the line hadn’t grown any shorter no matter how many wristbands they’d issued.

  Glenna came over. Brooke scooted down the bench to make room for her. “Is it always this busy?” she asked the owner.

  “Yes, and it only gets busier the closer we get to Halloween. We learned a few years ago this was the best weekend for the fundraiser. Lots of families, and fewer rowdy party groups after dark.”

  “Do you do bachelor and bachelorette parties?” Aaron asked.

  “No,” Glenna said. “We considered it, but there’s usually alcohol involved in those. That’s a liability we don’t need. We get a lot of birthday parties for all ages, though.” She looked at the people lingering in the rest area, and at the parking spots filling as soon as the last car pulled out. “We’ve got a good turnout for you. I hope everybody’s having fun.”

  “I’m enjoying working out here in the open,” Brooke said. “Aaron, on the other hand, has done the maze three times so far?”

  “Four and a half,” he corrected. “I figure I have time for one more while there’s still a little daylight. Then I’ll do it once more after you stop selling tickets.”

  “I’ll join you for that one. You go right, I’ll go left, and we should meet at the end,” Glenna said. “In the meantime, I’m back to the pumpkin patch and petting zoo if you need me.”

  “Wait,” Brooke exclaimed. “Did you find your missing kid?”

  “I heard him, and William saw him, but he ran away before we could catch him. Don’t worry, we’ll get him.”

  Aaron leaned over and snagged a handful of popcorn. “I’m glad we didn’t try to count this as a date. I’ve barely seen you this afternoon.”

  “Speaking of our date, what are you doing next Wednesday evening?” She had an idea.

  “Nothing.”

  “Would you like to go out with me to Paint Night at the Starlight Gallery?”

  About a year ago, Mina Blackburn put on one event a month at the gallery to get people to explore their artistic side. Normally, Brooke wouldn’t have been able to afford them. Those classes were, and were priced as, a very nice date night activity. She hadn’t wanted to miss out on it because money was an issue, so she approached her friend with a proposition. She gave the gallery and stained glass studio a thorough cleaning once a week, and she received two free passes to each class.

  The Christmas stained glass classes in November and December were for her and Jordan, but Brooke had told Mina the two spots in the October session would be for her and Aaron. It was the first time she was bringing a date instead of a friend.

  To her surprise, Aaron looked nervous. “I don’t know what that is. Or how to paint.”

  “That’s the fun of it. Mina has a sample painting and shows everyone how to do it. We each end up with our own version of the same picture.” She tugged on his arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Say yes.”

  “If we survive today, I’ll do it,” he said.

  She cut him off before he could backtrack. “Great!”

  “Mom!” Jordan yelled from the ticket booth.

  “Break’s over,” Brooke said. Aaron squeezed her hand before he left to do another pass through the maze. She gave herself a moment to enjoy the feeling. The ten minutes she’d sat with him had revitalized her for the rest of the afternoon.

  The last of the families left around five-thirty, offering a lull to grab a bite to eat at the popcorn stand or one of the food trucks before the evening. Then came the teenagers and the adults.

  A breeze sprang up in the falling darkness. Blinding spotlights around the perimeter of the maze lit the central space well, but once people left those areas, they were on their own. Several of the groups carried flashlights. The less prepared pulled out their phones; Brooke wished them good luck and a long battery life before they headed in.

  The popcorn booth and Fry Guys truck did brisk business, and all the tables were full of people and laughter.

  A rush of cars arrived ten minutes before the ticket booth closed at eight, and several groups entered the corn maze one after another. Brooke had been keeping unofficial track of when groups entered and exited; it took significantly longer in the dark. Her hopes of getting away at their estimated time quickly dissolved when she realized it would likely take the final groups longer than the normal hour they allowed.

  But her job was done. Brooke hung the Closed sign in the window and blocked the little cavity at the bottom of the plexiglass screen. Glenna arrived to help her count the evening’s take, then left with the cashbox, leaving Brooke on her own.

  Brooke wasn’t in the mood for more popcorn or a hot dog and fries. There wasn’t room around one of the firepits, and she didn’t recognize anybody there anyway. Since she no longer had to keep an eye on the ticket booth, she took the opportunity to stretch her legs and began walking the length of the maze.

  Bursts of laughter floated over the brown stalks that towered above her head. She heard some snatches of conversation, but most were erased by the scratching when the corn leaves rubbed against each other whenever the breeze picked up. Most of the noise came from far inside the maze.

  Except for that bit of rustling. It was more than wind rocking the stalks; she saw the top of one plant bend and hold for second before swaying back to its normal position. Brooke paused, and the motion stopped. She took two more steps, then stopped again when the noise followed her.

  She was under the spotlight in the corner, which meant the light from it spilled forward into the maze, not down around the perimeter. She was as far from the rest area and parking lot as she could get, which meant she wasn’t getting any light from those areas either. “Who’s there?”

  The top of one stalk wavered. Then the one in front of it, closest to her. Brooke retreated a step. “This isn’t an emergency exit, but if you need out of the maze, you’re almost there.”

  A car turned out of the parking lot. For a brief second, the headlights cut across the corn row, illuminating a form that was about knee-high. The light continued to sweep sideways, and all of a sudden, two creepy white orbs shone brightly in the darkness. Then they moved closer.

  “Aaaah!” Brooke yelled.

  “Mah-ah-ah,” the creature in the corn screamed back.

  “Aaaah!” she yelled again as she stumbled backward.

  The glowing eyes crept closer.

  Suddenly there was movement behind her. “Brooke?”

  “Aaaah! Help!” she screamed. She was surrounded.

  “Brooke, it’s me. It’s Aaron.” A warm hand gripped her forearm.

  “There’s a monster in there,” she whispered. All of a sudden, she’d gone from screaming to barely being able to speak. She didn’t want to draw its attention.

  “Mah-ah-ah!”

  Aaron pulled her back and shoved her behind him. His hand dropped to his hip, where he unclipped the huge flashlight that hung from his belt.

  “Step out and identify yourself,” he ordered loudly.

  “Mah-ah-ah.”

  One of the creepy white eyes disappeared briefly but came back with a vengeance a moment later when the creature’s head pushed through the last row of corn stalks. Black hair, white horns, white teeth. And a red collar. “Mah-ah-ah,” the small goat called again.

  “Penny?” a woman’s voice called from behind them.

  Brooke held onto Aaron, who held onto his flashlight, and they both stared at the little animal in front of them. “Brooke, it’s a goat,” he said. He may have said it twice. She wasn’t certain over the blood roaring in he
r ears.

  Then he laughed. “Brooke, it’s okay. You can let go of my arm. It’s a goat.” He put away his flashlight so he could pull her fingers off his arm. “You’re safe. No monsters. Let’s get back to the rest area where there’s better light.”

  Glenna pushed past them with a length of chain in her hands. “Come here, you rotten kid.”

  Brooke looked over her shoulder as Aaron led them away and saw the farmer threading the chain into the collar. “I don’t understand.”

  “Glenna’s goat escaped. Remember, she told us earlier that she was looking for her missing kid.”

  Brooke was sitting with a cup of hot chocolate in her trembling hands before she knew it. “I thought she was talking about her son, about Eli,” she wailed. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. She was starting to see the humor in the situation, but a minute ago she’d been scared out of her mind. “That’s not fair.” She tried to laugh, but it turned into a hiccup.

  “The normal expression is that when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. With you, I think it should be when you hear bleating, think goats, not chupacabras.”

  She heard the humor in Aaron’s voice, but couldn’t quite match it. She realized she didn’t need to when he crouched down in front of her. He draped a forearm over each knee. “Are you okay? I know you were truly spooked. You already hated the idea of a corn maze at night. You know nobody did this on purpose, right? It was a horrible coincidence that happened to the worst possible person.” He rubbed his hands up and down her thighs. The heat from his palms stopped her legs from shaking.

  “I know. I still feel like an idiot.”

  “Considering that half the people here screamed after you did, and they didn’t see those otherworldly white eyes staring at them from the corn field, I wouldn’t worry too much. Anybody in the maze will think that somebody screamed for effect. I wouldn’t be surprised if Glenna got some extra-good reviews after this for the sound effects she added for atmosphere.”

  She managed a small snicker as he made air-quotes around “atmosphere.” “I still feel like an idiot for freaking out.”

  “Next time you’re accosted by a goat in the dark, you’ll know what it is. How many people can say the same?”

  That she laughed at.

  Aaron stood. “I’m supposed to head in for my final sweep of the night. Are you going to be okay out here?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay by the fires. Lots of people and lights. No goats.”

  Aaron bent and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be fast. Then I’ll follow you home and make sure you get inside okay.”

  She was going to say that Jordan was here so she wouldn’t be travelling alone, but she held her tongue. She wanted Aaron to follow her home and walk her to her door and kiss her goodbye after wishing her good night. It had been a long time since someone had taken care of her like that. She liked it.

  Chapter 12

  “Trev, do you have any quarters?” Aaron asked as he rummaged through the coins on top of his dresser. Brooke had texted him asking if he had any loose change that she could buy off him. Apparently, her roll of quarters had gone missing, and she had plans to do her laundry that night. He hadn’t seen her in a week. They texted constantly, and video chatted almost every day. He wished their schedules were more compatible, but he’d take what he could get.

  “How many?”

  “A couple dollars’ worth if you’ve got it.”

  His son appeared at his bedroom door with a fistful of silver, which Aaron replaced with folded bills. “Did you have a chance to check out that link I sent you?” The teenager looked at him hopefully.

  “I was going to ask you about that. Woodlands Trades Institute? Why are you looking at a trade school? What happened to U of M or St. Cloud?” Aaron asked, referring to the state’s two largest colleges. When Trevor scratched the back of his neck, Aaron realized Brooke’s laundry troubles would have to wait. “Why don’t we have a seat in the kitchen?” he suggested.

  He set a can of ginger ale in front of his son and pulled a cola for himself. “What programs are you looking at there?” He hoped to hear about plans for law enforcement, or maybe medicine if Trevor was inspired by his mother’s side of the family.

  “Woodworking. Cabinet making. Furniture,” Trevor said quietly.

  Aaron nodded, taking in the new information while trying to not to voice his first reaction, which was disappointment. “You haven’t mentioned an interest in that before.”

  “Dad, you know I take shop every year. It’s my favorite class. I told you I was working on an extra-credit project this semester with the wood I got from Mac’s property. Mr. Schuler says it’s going to be the best thing to come out of his workshop in the last decade.”

  If Aaron thought about it, he did know shop was his son’s favorite class, and the one where he got the best marks. He had assumed it was simply because it was more fun that math or coding.

  “The microwave stand you built last year is better than anything we could buy in a store,” he admitted. Aside from giving Trevor the funds for supplies, he hadn’t thought about it again until Trevor asked that he pick him up at school. The two of them had lifted the piece into the back of the pickup, and the shop teacher had raved about how well Trevor had done. Joints and biscuit cuts and other terms that had Trevor beaming. “Are you sure that is something you want to do as a career? Woodworking is a fine hobby—”

  “It’s not a hobby. It’s a solid job.” His son immediately went on the defensive.

  “I’m not saying no. I’m saying I don’t know much about it. What does your mother think?” That was a dodge and a weak attempt to avoid responsibility. He felt bad even as he said it because he knew the answer before he even finished the question. His ex-wife would throw a fit at the thought of their son doing manual labor. She’d never adjusted to Aaron being a police officer; while she liked the uniform, the rest of the job had been too hard for her. She’d been against Trevor following his father’s career path. Heading into the trades would light a fire under her volatile temper.

  “I was hoping to have you in my corner when I told her.”

  “And an acceptance letter already in your hand?” Aaron guessed.

  “It wouldn’t hurt,” his son admitted. He wasn’t wrong.

  “I guess we’ll be planning a campus visit, then.”

  The shock on Trevor’s face caused a small pain in his chest. He hated to think his son expected such a big fight over his future. “Send me that link again, and I’ll set it up.”

  “Thanks, Dad!” Trevor exclaimed before bolting to his room.

  “Trev, I’m heading out for bit. I’ll be right back,” Aaron shouted at his back.

  “Say hi to Ms. Portman for me.”

  “Smart aleck,” Aaron muttered under his breath. But he was glad his son seemed okay with his father seeing someone new.

  He dumped the coins into a baggie, then headed across town. He didn’t want to derail Brooke’s study night with a long conversation about his son’s future, but he’d at least get to see her for a couple minutes while he handed over her laundry money. She was waiting for him on the front step, wearing a thick hoodie and rubbing her hands together to ward off the chill in the evening air.

  She waved a ten-dollar bill. “You can keep the change if you actually do the laundry for me. Washing and drying. I’ll pay you extra if you fold it,” she said with a smile.

  “You’ll have to add a zero to that bribe. I don’t even fold my own laundry.” He sat beside her. “Why are you sitting out here in the cold?”

  “Is it cold? I’m in too much shock to notice.” She sighed. “My darling daughter asked for permission to increase her number of shifts so she can save more money because she has her eye set on a couple of Ivy League colleges with journalism programs. The application fees are outrageous, never mind the tuition.” Brooke blew a raspberry. “I don’t want to tell her to aim lower, but the fees for out-of-
state schools are so far beyond me. She’ll be paying back student loans till she’s fifty.”

  “That’s not a problem for me. Trevor just informed me he wants to go to trade school for woodworking. He’s not interested in college.”

  Brooke sighed again. “Kids, man. What are you going to do? Lock them in their rooms till they’re thirty?” She looked at him hopefully. “That’ll keep them from growing up, right?”

  “Nah,” he said. “It’s too late for that. They already know how to open the windows.”

  “Shoot. It was so much easier when bribes were yogurt tubes, and punishment was cutting off the Wi-Fi,” she groaned.

  Aaron chuckled. Trust Brooke to make him feel better when his teenager left him reeling. “If it makes you feel any better, tell Jordan to do the folding.”

  She beamed. “I will.”

  “How’s the homework coming along?”

  “I miss interest calculations.”

  “You said you hated interest calculations.”

  Brooke placed her hand on his knee and squeezed gently. “I was wrong, Aaron. So very wrong. I said that before I learned about depreciation scales. Now I love interest.”

  He smiled, because everyone had days like that. Most didn’t involve math, but he understood the sentiment. He covered her small hand with his own. “You poor thing.”

  “Right? Totally. You’ll have to be extra nice to me tomorrow.”

  “At Paint Night?” he asked. He still wasn’t completely sure what that would entail. Roy had laughed at him when he’d mentioned it, then said, choking on his own words, that it hadn’t been too bad. “I’m looking forward to it. I promise there will be no depreciation talk. Although you might want some by then.”

  “I doubt it, but I’ll never say never.” Brooke rose to her feet. “Thanks for the emergency quarters. I need to get back inside. My study group chat will be starting soon.”

  “Thanks for the laughs. I needed them.” Trevor’s news was still shocking, but it wasn’t as horrible as he’d first thought. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

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