Chapter Thirty-Six

Roman

Halloween…

The screams in the distance sent shivers through me and when I heard them fall silent for a second only to come back louder and more frantic than before, I couldn’t help but laugh. I lowered the piece of candy corn cake I had been eating to the napkin in my hand and licked my lips.

This was definitely going in the concession stand next year.

All around me people ran around the farm, going from attraction to attraction with increasing glee at the terrors that were awaiting them. One of the haunted houses, designed as a more stable replica of Steven McAllister’s house, was particularly popular, but it was the corn maze that seemed to be getting the most repeat visitors. Whole groups would run breathlessly out of the exit, very often pursued closely by one of the actors ensuring that they got every ounce of fear out of them, pause only for a few seconds to gather themselves, and then run back to the line at the entrance. They knew that there were many twists and turns within the maze and that each one offered new nightmares just lurking around the corners. They seemed resolute to discover every one of them.

Bitsy rushed up to my side as she emerged from the haunted house and wrapped her arms around my waist. I pulled her in for a kiss.

“So, did Steven McAllister’s house scare you?” I asked.

She laughed and shook her head.

“Not at all. Remember, I’ve seen the real thing.”

I laughed, still thankful that my gamble had paid off and she had understood the goal behind my hoax rather than being mad that I had frightened her. It had only been in the last few days that I had finally revealed to her my secret behind making the jack o’ lantern in the house glow on demand: a tiny remote tucked into my pocket. I drew that out now and pointed it in the direction of the haunted house. I pushed the button and heard the muffled screams of a group inside. We laughed and I felt something grab us from behind, squeezing us tightly. I lifted my arm to allow Nia to walk under it so she stood in front of us. Her eyes were wide and bright, her hair disheveled from running through the haunted house and maze.

“I am officially never throwing a Halloween party again,” she announced. “This is incredible!”

I saw Bitsy scan Nia’s outfit, which consisted of black jeans and a hooded black sweatshirt.

“I thought that Halloween was all about being sexy and attracting men,” she said. “Remember, boning skeletons and sucking vampires and what not?”

That was more than I really needed to hear.

Nia gave her a decidedly resentful look and then tossed her head dramatically.

“I’ll have you know that I have matured and am now much more invested in the more traditional means of enjoying the holiday.”

“Which means that you already found a man. Which one is it?”

Nia smiled and pointed across the open center of the park, which Bitsy had named “Field of Screams: If You Build It, They Will Run.” Bitsy and I followed her point and saw one of the scare actors that we had hired hovering near the darkened concession stand. A group of newly-arrive guests walked past and he jumped at them, making a growling sound that was fantastically inhuman. The group screamed and scurried away from him, and the actor serenely took his place back next the stand to wait for the next unsuspecting group to come along.

“So, it looks like I’ll be spending much more time out here,” Nia said.

“Oh, really?” I asked.

“Yep. Clint says that I’m going to need a lot of training if I could ever possibly scare anyone.”

I laughed at the dreamy look in her eyes and gave her a squeeze around the shoulders.

“Well, we will be happy to have you here, no matter what the reason. We’ll be starting up preparations for next season in about five months, so you are welcome to come back and help us create next year’s attraction.”

The haunt had made so much money in the last month that Benson declared he would never sell – right before burying himself back under a mound of hay so he would be ready to rise up like the dead the next time visitors came by.

Truth be told, I figured Benson would promise never to sell even if the attraction hadn’t made any money. Just having something new on the farm had breathed fresh life into it and he was excited about it. He spent most days out checking each of the attractions, reviewing the special effects, and making sure that each of the actors had their hair and makeup just right. It was his greatest thrill, however, when he was able to sneak into one of the attractions and be a part of the scares himself. Many of the guests stopped by to talk to us before leaving, already asking what the next year’s theme was going to be, so I had a feeling that Benson had many years of scaring ahead of him.

A few days before he had come to me and asked if I would make sure the farm was properly taken care of when he was gone. I assured him that that was a long time away, but that if it would make him feel better to hear it, I would make sure that when he was gone, the farm was protected and Bitsy had everything that she needed. My only condition was that he transfer the deed into Bitsy’s name as part of the paperwork. I wanted it to be hers, for her to be able to look at it and know that it belonged to her, and that one day she could pass it down to her daughter, who might one day pass it down to hers.

“What are you two going to do with this place now that the Halloween season is over?” Nia asked. “It’s too fabulous a place for you to just let it sit around for months out of the year.”

“Well, we could make it into a Christmas destination,” I suggested, peering around and trying to envision lights and glittering trees in the place of the skulls and pumpkins.

“With a tree lot and Santa’s workshop,” Bitsy suggested.

“And horse-drawn carriage rides and a little village set up where people could buy gifts,” Nia added.

“And an enchanted trail of lights with streamed-in music and special events for little ones,” I said.

“And maybe a wedding venue.”

I smiled down at Bitsy and touched my lips to hers. I had been waiting my entire life to find her. Two months seemed like more than enough time to be engaged.

“There’s just one more thing that I need to do,” I said.

Three weeks later…

My mother smiled at me from the worn chair where she sat bouncing Lorelei in her lap. I had never seen an expression of such pure joy and contentment on her face and I looked forward to her having many more opportunities to enjoy her only grandchild.

At least for now.

My grandparents sat on either side of her, cooing at the baby and speaking to her in the language that I remembered hearing as I grew up. I felt content knowing that they were going to be close by much more often now. The houses that I was having built for them would sit side-by-side on the far end of the farm, giving the old McAllister home a bit of company. We’d had Steven’s grave moved back closer. My mother and grandmother had nothing to fear from an old ghost story, but I figured the ghosts might have something to fear from them, so maybe Steven would finally get a chance to rest. I had found a newer coroner’s report tucked in the wrong place in one of Miss Daisy Pearl’s books that stated Steven McAllister died of congestive heart failure, not fright. I had put it back where it was and hadn’t told Bitsy. There was no point in ruining a good local legend.

Until their houses were ready, my mother and grandparents were staying in the little house where I had stayed behind Benson’s house. I could no longer think of it as Bitsy’s mother’s house. Some digging had also helped me to find out what had actually happened to her, but I hadn’t shared that with her yet, either. That was for another time. For now, I had moved into Benson’s house with Bitsy and Lorelei. When the new houses were ready, we would move back out to that house and start making new memories there as our little family.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and I looked over my shoulder to see Miss Daisy Pearl coming down into her basement. She had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a navy blue dress with white pin dots, a stiff lace collar secured with a rose pink cameo pin, and white lace gloves. She smiled at each of the people gathered in the room, saving the longest smile for me, and then walked over to the bookshelves. She withdrew the massive history volume, teetering slightly under its weight. There was a brief tense moment where she could have gone either way, but fortunately she made like a Weeble and ended up back securely on her feet. She carried the book over to the table and opened it up to the resident registry and handed me a pen.

I felt Bitsy come up beside me and wrap her arms around mine, kissing my upper arm. I smiled as I looked down at the blank line on the page and then touched the tip of the pen to it, signing my name with flourish.

Roman Renshaw. Resident of Whiskey Hollow.

THE END