Page 24 of Curses and Cornstalks
As much as I want to spend more time with him, I can’t risk that happening. I can’t put him in danger?—
“Cassie.” Atticus’ voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and my attention rockets back to him.
“Sorry. I was just thinking…” I rush, shaking my head. “Yes, you’re right; they’ll be worried. I… I have to go.”
He hesitates for a brief moment before nodding once and turning to continue along the path through the stalks. I follow silently, stealing glances at Atticus as we go, while countless questions play in my mind. There are so many things I want to ask, but I know my time is limited.
By the time I open my mouth to speak, I note the stalks thinning up ahead, and my stomach sinks.
Dammit.
When we reach the end of the cornfield, Atticus stops at the last row of stalks and stares across the landscape. After a hundred years of the same clearing, I wouldn’t blame him if he stood here all night.
I poke my head out past the cornstalks to make sure no cars are approaching—people will have serious questions if they see me emerging from the haunted cornfield—and find the coast is clear. My jaw nearly drops when I note my Honda sitting a few yards away, exactly where I left it.
He brought me to exactly where I entered the field.
The urge to throw my arms around him and hug him creeps up, but I quickly squash it. He’d probably think I was crazy.
Scratch that—he would think I’m insane.
My gaze bounces between Atticus and my car, indecision tugging me in both directions. I know I have to go, but I don’t want to. Finally, they land on him.
“Thank you, Atticus.”
His eyes slide in my direction and nerves skitter through me. I want to commit every part of him to memory, to brand him on the backs of my eyelids. The intensity of his dark eyes, the southern drawl of his voice.
“You’re welcome.” He dips his head in a polite nod. “You should be able to find your way now, correct?”
I giggle, glancing at my car that's sitting mere feet away. “I think I can manage.”
“Good.” He hesitates, like there’s something else he wants to say, but ultimately changes his mind. “Farewell, Cassie.”
With that he turns and heads back into the cornfield, and I watch him go. Only when he fades into the darkness, his form slipping out of view, do I turn and hurry toward the car. I sling my backpack into the passenger seat with my heart slamming in my throat and quickly pull a three-point-turn to head back toward town.
I haven’t made it far at all when my phone rings, and I fumble it out of my pocket.
It’s Madelyn.
“H-hey,” I answer, nearly dropping the phone into the floorboard in the process.
“Hey, Cass. Where the hell are you?” she asks. “I’ve been texting you for hours.”
I force a laugh, trying to come up with a believable story on the fly. “Oh, sorry. I… I fell asleep in my car listening to music and just woke up. I’m headed back to the house now.”
I hear a tiny sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Girl, I thought you weredead.Those farm chores really took it out of you, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, punching the gas petal. My eyes flick up to the rearview mirror where I can see the haunted cornfield fading into the distance. “Yeah, they did. I’ll see you soon.”
Madelyn must have already told Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Wayne the story about me falling asleep, because they don’t seem worried as I slip into the farmhouse and join them at the dinner table. They’re having meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, with some kind of dessert casserole that smells heavenly.
“Did you have a good day in town, Cassie?” Aunt Bonnie asks softly as I help myself to the food.
“Yeah, it was great,” I assure her. “Cold Springs is really cute.”
I’m screwed if she asks any in depth questions, because I barely remember the shops Madelyn and I passed the other day. Thankfully, she doesn’t, and Madelyn dominates the conversation talking about the upcoming Halloween festival instead.
Slowly, bit by bit, my nerves dissolve. I nod along with the conversation to make it seem like I’m listening, but I’m not. Not really. My mind is occupied by thoughts of a haunted cornfield and a dark, mysterious scarecrow I can’t seem to shake.
