Maize

"Why didn't the skeleton cross the road?" Emily yelled over her shoulder.

"Don't know," Andy called back. "Why?"

Emily and her mother had vanished into the crowd, so the reply came as a disembodied, high-pitched shout. "He had no guts!"

Andy grinned at Laura. She smiled back, then slipped her fingers through his. They headed toward the live music at the edge of the festival grounds.

Long, looping strings of café lights illuminated a rectangle of hard-packed grass that served as a dance floor. On stage, a woman with a pixie cut sang into a standing microphone and led the crowd in a line dance. She was accompanied by a drummer, guitarist, fiddle player, and bassist.

Andy shook his head. "I don't dance."

"Good," Laura said, pulling him into the crowd. "You're not perfect. You had me worried for a minute."

For what seemed an eternity, Andy fumbled through one dance after another with Laura by his side, sometimes encouraging him, other times laughing at him. He would have considered it torture had it not been for the company.

In the lull between songs, they talked. He learned she was studying nursing and hoped to find a job back home in Pennsylvania. Andy told her that agriculture was in his blood, and he hoped one day to own and run his own farm.

"Let's slow things down," the woman on stage whispered into the microphone. "This is one of my favorites. At Last, by the incredible Etta James."

The fiddle's soaring opening notes cut through the air. About half the crowd shuffled off the dance floor and made their way toward the food stands.

"We could take a break," Laura offered, but her eyes looked hopeful.

Andy shook his head. "Only reason I made a fool of myself out here was to do this."

He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her close. She smiled, draped her arms around his neck, and melted into his chest.

At last ...

My love has come along.

She rested her head against his shoulder. Her hair smelled of citrus.

My lonely days are over.

And life is like a song.

They swayed together in the night. Every sensation seemed magnified: the warmth of her skin, the brush of her fingers through his hair, the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest.

She lifted her head and met his eyes. He kissed her―a long kiss, as gentle and unhurried as the music washing over them. The faint taste of kettle corn lingered on her lips. When he pulled away, he saw that Laura's cheeks were flushed.

You smiled, you smiled.

Oh, and then the spell was cast.

One of the overhead café lights flickered, drawing Andy's eye. Below it stood three figures, watching them. Reuben glared at him, took a long drink from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, then stalked forward toward the dance floor. Trevor grabbed his arm. Jim―his swollen nose wrapped in gauze―clapped Reuben's shoulder and guided him away.

Andy watched them vanish into the crowd. He shifted his eyes to Laura. She hadn't seen them, but she'd noticed the change in his expression.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

He shook his head, then pulled her into another kiss. She seemed satisfied with the answer.

And here we are in Heaven.

For you are mine ...

at last.

*******

The band ended their set. Andy kept a watchful eye out for Reuben as he and Laura walked, hand-in-hand, back toward the food stands and carnival games.

"Ever try it?" she asked, nodding toward a small tent tucked between a long row of hay bales. A ragged banner hung above the parted flaps. It read: Temple of Palmistry.

"Nope," Andy said.

She winked. "Want to see what the future holds?"

"I'm satisfied with the present," he answered, squeezing her hand.

"Not me. I want to know how many kids we're having."

She laughed at his stunned expression. "I'm kidding! But let's just check it out. Please?"

The aroma of sandalwood incense enveloped them before they reached the tent. They ducked inside and found a middle-aged woman in a dark purple robe seated at a small table. She was texting on her phone, oblivious to their arrival.

Andy cleared his throat. The woman twitched and shoved her phone under a pile of scarves at the edge of the table.

"Welcome!" she called in a sing-song tone, her face morphing instantly into what Andy assumed was meant to resemble an enigmatic smile. "Have you come to seek a glimpse of the future? Or perhaps a better understanding of yourselves?"

"Both, I guess," Laura said.

The woman gestured to two chairs opposite her. Once they were seated, the woman lay her arm on the table and opened her hand. Laura hesitated, then placed her hand on the table.

The woman drew close. The blood-red polish on her nails had peeled and flaked like the paint on a weathered shed. She nodded as she ran her fingers across Laura's palm.

"You have a strong lifeline, long and unbroken. Many happy years lie ahead. And your heart line ... I see love blossoming on the horizon." The woman's eyes darted to Andy, then back to Laura. "Perhaps it has blossomed already?"

Even in the dim light of the tent, Andy could see Laura's cheeks flush pink.

"You have a sharp intellect, though sometimes you believe too strongly that your truth is the only truth."

Laura looked at Andy. "That's true. Sometimes I―"

"Shh... don't interrupt." The woman leaned forward, studying Laura's skin. "Your fate line ... I see children. They are drawn to you." She patted Laura's hand, then released it. "You will bring joy to many people. This much is clear to me."

"That was ... something," Laura said. "Thank you."

"How about you?" the woman asked, turning to Andy. "Brave enough to let a stranger peer into your soul?"

Andy preferred to keep his soul to himself. But he also didn't want to disappoint Laura. He extended his arm.

The woman scooped up his hand. "Strong," she said. "A worker's hands."

You didn't need to be a palm reader to feel calluses, Andy thought, but he stayed mum.

She traced his palm. Her brow furrowed. Her fingernails pressed roughly into his flesh. From across the table, Andy watched the woman's eyes grow wide. With a sharp intake of breath, she jolted upright and dropped his hand as though it were a hot coal.

Andy recognized the look in the woman's eyes. Fear. It lasted only an instant, but it was unmistakable. Then it vanished.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I cannot read your palm."

"Why?" Laura asked. "What is it?"

"Our energies are not compatible." She sighed. "Palmistry is more than just looking at lines on skin." She squeezed Andy's hand. "I must feel you." She gave him a somber look. "I'm sorry. So very sorry."

"It's fine," Andy said, rising to his feet. "Thanks for your time, ma'am."

Andy squinted as he and Laura emerged from the dim tent into the bright lights of the festival. They walked the grounds one more time, stopping to play a few games. Andy won a glow-in-the-dark skeleton keychain at balloon darts and a stuffed owl at pumpkin ring toss. When the food stands began to close, they called it a night.

Andy drove Laura to the house she shared with her roommates and walked her to the porch.

"Don't wait to get fired before you ask me out again, okay?"

"Best day at work I ever had," he said. Then he kissed her.

She kissed him back, hard, slipping her hands along his biceps and up to his broad shoulders. When he slid his hand along the smooth curve of her bottom, she sighed into his mouth and nipped at his lower lip. Then she pressed her palms against his chest and gently pushed him away. She chewed her lip, took half a step forward, then stopped.

"Call me," she said. "Soon." Then she disappeared inside the front door.

He should have been elated. Should have driven straight home and rubbed one out before drifting off to dream of the next time he'd see her.

But something gnawed at him. He tried to dismiss it, to push it from his mind so that he could focus on Laura. But he failed. Instead, he found himself back at the half-empty festival grounds staring at the Temple of Palmistry banner.

He brushed past the tent flaps. The smell of incense had dissipated. The collapsible table was propped against the far corner. The woman sat folding scarves and placing them neatly into a clear Tupperware bin.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, without looking up.

"I know. You're packing up. It's just ... you weren't telling me everything before. Were you?"

She stood from her chair and strode toward him. "You misunderstand. You shouldn't be here." She grasped his palm. Her grip was like iron. "You need to go back!"

"What?"

Andy tried to step away, but she yanked him forward until their faces were inches apart. Her eyes bored into his. Her nails sank so deeply into his palm he thought they might pierce the skin.

Her voice began as a whisper before rising to a roar. "You. Need. To. Go. BACK!"

Andy ripped his hand from her grasp and stumbled through the opening of the tent into the cold night air. In a daze, he staggered along the row of haybales lining the edge of the festival grounds.

He was so rattled that he never heard the approaching footsteps.

Two pairs of hands yanked him behind a haybale and pinned him to the ground. Reuben leapt onto his chest and shoved a rag in his mouth.

"Well, hi there, Andy!" he whispered. His breath reeked of alcohol. "You like the festival? You having fun?"

Trevor held Andy's right arm and smiled. Jim, who'd developed large bruises around both eyes, held his left arm and glared.

"How's Laura?" Reuben asked. "You fuck her?"

Andy grunted into the rag and tried to twist free.

"Too bad. Half our fraternity has. She's a ... what's the word, Jim?"

"Fucking whore," Jim said.

Reuben smiled. "That's it! Listen, Andy. I need a favor. See, you broke my buddy Jim's nose."

Reuben reached into his jacket and pulled out a pocketknife. He smacked the jigged bone handle against Andy's nose.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" He held the knife in front of Andy's face and flipped open the blade. "Now, I want you to say you're sorry."

Reuben trailed the knife down Andy's torso until the blade's point hovered above his right thigh.

"It's that simple. Just say sorry. And this'll all be over." His eyes radiated the same gleeful malevolence from earlier that morning.

Andy said nothing. Reuben pressed the point of the knife into the fabric of Andy's jeans. He rotated the blade in slow circles.

"A little louder. I didn't hear you."

Andy glared at him in silence.

"Say. You're." Reuben plunged the knife into Andy's thigh. "SORRY!"

Pain exploded in Andy's leg. He screamed into the rag. Jim's eyes widened in horror.

"Jesus, Reuben!" Trevor hissed. "You said that was just to scare him!"

"It is." He chuckled. "You scared, Andy?"

Reuben withdrew the knife. He traced the blade, wet with blood, up to Andy's stomach.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. And if you pull this Helen Keller shit again, I'm going to gut you like a fucking pig. Now, say you're sorry."

Trevor released Andy's arm and shoved Reuben backward. "Get out of here!" he shouted at Andy.

Andy yanked his arm from Jim's grasp and scrambled over the haybale. Jim didn't try to stop him.

The doctor in the Emergency Room peppered Andy with questions before reluctantly accepting his explanation that his knife had slipped while carving a pumpkin. He stitched Andy up, gave him some antibiotics, and told him he was lucky no major blood vessels had been nicked.

It took Andy a long time to fall asleep, but once he did, he didn't wake until his phone rang at 11 a.m.

"Hello?" He winced in pain as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Andy?"

It was Laura. She was crying.

His blood turned to ice. Reuben wasn't insane enough to have gone after her, was he? Why hadn't he thought to warn her?

"Are you okay?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's Reuben. He ..." she trailed off.

Andy felt like he might vomit. "What did he do? Tell me."

"He's dead."

Andy was too stunned to speak.

"Drop dead," Laura continued. "Those were the last words I ever said to him. Right before you two fought. And now he's..."

"Shh... This isn't your fault." He waited for her breathing to calm down. "Do you know what happened?"

"Only rumors I've heard on campus. He was drunk last night. Driving too fast. Flipped his car into a telephone pole." She sighed. "God knows I never liked him, but he didn't deserve to die."

She sounded like she might cry again. "You want some company?"

"Yeah. I'd really like that."

He decided that Laura didn't need to know anything. Not about Reuben watching them on the dance floor. Not about how he'd gone back to see the palmist. Not about the woman's odd warning before he was attacked.

Laura already felt guilty. Telling her about Reuben's obsession might make her feel worse. Plus, Andy saw no reason to speak ill of the dead.

When Laura asked about his leg, he told her he'd snagged it on a nail while tearing down fencing earlier that morning. He felt bad keeping secrets from her. Lying, if you wanted to call it what it was. But protecting those you loved sometimes required sacrifice.

Besides, there was no harm in a secret.

*******

August 2018

Butler County, Pennsylvania

"How many do we have left?" Laura asked, dumping another heaping cup of ice into the large bowl of water on the table.

Andy transferred six ears of corn from a boiling pot on the stove to a bowl and carried them to Laura.

"Not sure. Another four dozen or so?"

Laura sighed. "It never ends." She dumped the steaming corn into the ice water, then collapsed into her chair and resumed shucking and desilking the next batch.

The thermometer outside the window read eighty-nine degrees; with the heat from the stove, it had to be one hundred degrees or more inside the kitchen.

Prepping corn to freeze for winter was an annual ritual they'd started ten years ago, right after they got married. They both loved the sweet taste of summer corn on bitter February evenings. But the day-long process of blanching it, stripping the kernels from the cob, and vacuum sealing the one-quart bags was always a giant pain in the ass.

Andy wiped the sweat from his forehead and smiled as he watched Laura work. His wife was a force of nature. Whether it was shucking eighteen dozen ears of corn or finishing at the top of her nursing school class, there was no stopping her once she set her mind to something.

When they'd moved to Pennsylvania, she'd decided she wanted to host a Harvest Festival on their farm. Within three years, it had grown into one of the largest family festivals in the county. Its centerpiece was a sprawling corn maze that Andy designed himself every year.

But when Laura set her mind to starting a family, it had become the one serious conflict in their otherwise idyllic marriage.

"You told me, before we got married, that you wanted kids!" she'd said.

"I do. Just ... not yet."

When he tried to explain why, the words would never come. It was just something he felt, deep in his bones.

"Let me get this straight," she'd said. "You don't want kids because something horrible―you can't say what―might happen to them one day?"

"Sayin' it like that makes me sound crazy."

She softened. "I'm sorry. I know it's a huge decision. But you're worrying before there's even a reason."

"Don't you worry? 'Bout protecting them against whatever's out there?"

"Of course! But Andy, your solution to always keeping our kids safe is not to have kids! That's not a solution."

"I can't explain it. I just feel it. Now's not the right time."

"Well, I can explain it just fine. Every time a storm rolls through, you sit outside waiting for it to happen again." She blinked back tears. "You gotta let it go, Andy. So you can move on." She took his hand. "So we can move on."

He'd held firm for years, but Laura eventually wore him down. She did it without even trying. She didn't give him the cold shoulder or fight with him incessantly. But the light in her eyes―that joyful spark that so captivated him when they met―had dulled. He couldn't bear knowing that he was the cause.

He'd spent years wondering when the monster he'd felt as a child would return to tear apart his world. But a monster wasn't ruining his life. He was.

Two weeks ago, he'd told Laura he was ready.

"Baby, you're sure?" she'd asked. "You need to do this because you want it. Not for me."

"I'm sure. I want a family."

She'd clasped his face between her hands and kissed him. Then they'd made love.

"What are you staring at?" Laura's voice snapped him back to the present. She ripped the husk from another ear of corn.

"You," he answered.

She ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair. "I know. I'm a mess."

"You're beautiful."

She shook her head. "You're crazy."

He continued to stare. She watched him, holding his gaze.

Laura set aside the corn and dipped her hand into the bowl of water. She drew out an ice cube and pressed it to her neck. The ice cube slid lower and traced a lazy line across her chest. As it melted, drops of water beaded on her skin, then slipped down her freckled chest and disappeared between her breasts.

"You know," she said, "shucking all this corn, one ear after another ... well, it starts to give a girl thoughts."

"That so?"

"Yeah."

The ice had melted. Laura plucked an ear from the table. She circled it with her fingers in a loose grip, moving her hand along its length in long, slow strokes.

"Come here," she said.

He turned off the burner under the pot of boiling water and walked to her chair. Standing above her, he could see the delicate swell of her breasts under her light blue sundress. She wasn't wearing a bra. The dress fell forward as she shifted in her chair, exposing a pink nipple, erect and inviting.

"Here?" he asked.

"Closer."

He inched closer. She placed her palm against his jeans and ran it along the length of his erection. His hand dropped to her chest and caressed her breast through the fabric of her dress. Her breath shuddered as he found her nipple and gave it a light squeeze.

She unfastened the button of his jeans, lowered the zipper, and pushed them to the floor. His underwear followed.

Her hand circled him and began to move with exquisite slowness. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, enjoying the sensation. She toyed with him, speeding up, then slowing back down. He groaned in appreciation.

Then her hand was gone. He hopped backward as something cold and wet slid along the length of his shaft.

His eyes snapped open. Laura was staring up at him with a mischievous grin. She opened her hand to show him the ice cube she held in her palm.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Oh, poor baby," she pouted, pulling him back toward her. "Too cold?"

He nodded.

"Here. Let me fix it."

She bent forward and engulfed him in her mouth. His legs nearly buckled. Her head bobbed in a gentle rhythm as her tongue bathed his shaft in warmth. He groaned and closed his eyes, fighting the impulse to explode instantly in her mouth.

Just when he thought the battle was lost, her mouth left him and the sting of cold returned, more intense this time.

He flinched and looked down to see her stroking his shaft, several small ice cubes clutched in her palm.

"Quit it!"

She laughed and relaxed her hand. The ice cubes skittered across the floor.

"Oops. I keep doing that." Then her mouth was on him again, impossibly hot and slick. He placed a hand on the back of her head to guide her. She moaned against his shaft. The vibration of her lips almost sent him over the edge. Then she stopped.