Matt smiled as he drew a line through that entry. One down.
Her dislike of marriage was a potential stumbling block. Perhaps if he outlined his plan for helping her to attend school after their marriage, it would reassure her that he had no intention of making her so dependent upon him that she’d be helpless if he left her.
He added “strong-willed” and “independent” to the Pro category. He didn’t want a doormat for a wife, he wanted an equal partner. And it had been precisely because of their dependencies that he’d fled from the marriage-minded Hargrove girls.
He’d had the responsibility for his mother and younger sister thrust upon him at an early age. While other boys had been hanging out at the Dairy Queen every day after school, he’d been working at least two jobs, and sometimes as many as four. Now that he was in a position to actually enjoy his life, he wasn’t about to sign up for the burden of responsibilities he didn’t need.
Matt placed a check mark next to the second issue. He had a preliminary plan, but wasn’t certain if it would address all of Ally’s concerns with marriage. He hesitated a moment, then drew a line through the issue anyway. Whatever her ultimate concerns, he knew he’d be able to find a way to overcome them.
A niggling fear tried to worm its way into his consciousness, but he refused to allow it into his thoughts. He would overcome any objections of Ally’s. Any other outcome was unacceptable.
He skipped to the fourth issue. She’d be staying in the area, and still involved with her niece’s schooling. If Ally wanted to continue running her sister’s farm, she could do that. Susan was a good mother, even though she had trouble with things outside that scope. She’d be able to look after any children Matt and Ally had, while Ally took care of the farm for her. Far from trying to take Ally away from her sister, marriage to Matt might make her closer.
He drew a line through that objection as well. That left only Ally’s outsider status.
Of all the objections he considered, this was the hardest to deal with. He remembered what it was like growing up, always on the outside, kept there by his family’s poverty. He never had the right clothes or the trendy possessions. By the time he reached high school, when he might have created an identity as part of a sports team, he was devoting his after school hours to work, not sports. It had taken years of effort on his part to overcome those early impressions of him as Crazy Cantrell’s kid. He’d transformed their pity into respect, and had worked himself into every aspect of Hargrove life. This was his town now.
But if he’d been able to do it, surely Ally would, too. Knowing how protective she was of Susan, she may have encouraged the townspeople’s outrageous gossip about her rather than reveal the truth of her sister’s suspected condition. But Susan was getting better. There’d be no reason to encourage gossip any longer.
The other reason Ally might have tried to stay isolated is that she was planning on returning to school shortly. If she didn’t get attached to the people of Hargrove, it would make it easier to leave. But if she was going to be staying here, with him, she’d become a part of the town, just like he had. She couldn’t help it, since she’d be attending all the meetings and functions he normally attended, mixing and mingling with the people of Hargrove.
Once they really got to know her, they’d accept her, just as they’d eventually accepted him as a serious, successful adult in his own right, and not the unlucky offspring of a wide-eyed dreamer with only the most tenuous grasp of how the world really worked.
Matt hesitated, then placed a check mark next to his final remaining concern. He felt confident that it could be overcome.
He scanned the paper one last time. There was no reason not to propose to Ally.
Well, there was one reason. Cece. He had to break up with her before Ally would accept his proposal. Briefly, he thought about asking Ally first, so that if she turned him down, he would still have Cece to buffer him from the piranha-like single females of Hargrove. But that wasn’t fair to either of them.
Fortunately, he and Cece worked in the same building, at opposite ends of the professional complex that was one of the first commercial properties he’d developed. He called her secretary and grabbed fifteen minutes on her calendar.
Half an hour later, he was pacing back and forth in front of her desk, while she gazed at him with a bemused smile.
“Matt? What’s eating you?”
He turned to face her. “Cece, I have to end our dating arrangement.”
“Why?”
“I met someone. Ally Nichols, the woman who volunteered to host the corn maze.”
“You met her less than a week ago.”
“I know.”
Cece tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she searched his expression, his body language, for the underlying truth of his words.
“It might not pan out. We don’t have to date each other exclusively. You could see her as well as me.”
“I’m planning on asking her to marry me.”
Cece sat back in her chair. “Well. That certainly changes things.”
“I’m sorry, Cece.”
She waved a hand, dismissing his apology. “We agreed from the beginning that our dating was a mutual convenience, not an emotional attachment. It’s just that you usually plan things out in so much detail. I’ve never known you to make such a major decision so suddenly.” Her eyes narrowed. “This is suddenly, isn’t it? Your little analysis of our relationship at dinner last week wasn’t supposed to be the prelude to a breakup, was it? It didn’t sound that way, but…”
Matt shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat. “Actually, I have been planning this for a while. But it was you I was going to ask to marry me.”
“Me? But … marriage? What was wrong with dating?”
Matt shrugged. “I wanted kids, a family. I knew you did too, eventually. It seemed like a good solution.”
He leaned forward, bracing his palms on her desk. “I was wrong. Ally makes me come alive in a way I’ve never experienced before. You deserve to have a man who will set you on fire, Cece. Not someone who’s convenient.”
“Matt Cantrell, you’re in love! I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” He reached out and clasped her hand in his. “It’s worth the effort to find someone you can love, Cece.”
“Does she love you?”
“I don’t know. I think…I don’t know. There’s something there, but I didn’t recognize my feelings at first. She might not, either. I’ll find out tonight.”
Cece stood, then circled the desk to give him a friendly hug.
“You’re a good man, Matt. I hope she makes you happy.” She grinned. “And tell her if she doesn’t, I’ll kick her pointy-headed butt.”
* * * * *
Matt waited until after dinner to drive over to Ally’s farm. He reasoned that she was more likely to listen to his proposal when she was relaxing after one of her sister’s excellent meals, than when she was tired, sweaty, hungry, and trying to finish her work in the fields.
He rang the doorbell, the antique buzzer echoing throughout the house. A moment later, Susan answered the door.
“Good evening, Matt. Are you here to look at the maze, or talk to Ally?”
“Evening, Susan. I’d like to talk to Ally.”
“She’s in the barn.”
His eyebrows lifted. “She’s still working?”
“No. Cindy doesn’t start school until tomorrow, so she and I spent the morning helping Ally replant the corn to make the maze. We finished early enough to go apple picking in the orchard. We used to go every autumn, but this is the first time Cindy’s been apple picking since…” Susan shook her head, and seemed to force herself to concentrate on the present moment, and the man before her. “We wore Cindy out, so we had an early dinner and put her straight to bed. But we picked four bushels. We can’t eat that many before they go bad. I’ll can and dry some, make apple butter and preserves out of others, and Ally’s making apple wine out
of the rest.”
He remembered the glassware in her workshop that had reminded him of a distillery. The evidence of her forethought and preparation reassured him that she was a kindred spirit. Although she claimed she disliked planning, he’d seen her detailed calendar notes, and knew from listening to her talk that she was extremely methodical. She’d respond to his arguments in favor of marriage. He knew she would.
“Okay if I go over there?” he asked.
“Suit yourself. She doesn’t like to be disturbed, but I don’t know how much longer she’ll be holed up in her workshop.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Matt entered the barn carefully, unsure of how delicate a process winemaking was, and not wanting to make any noise that might startle Ally into spilling boiling liquid on herself or some other accident. Having a few minutes to observe her before she noticed his presence would also allow him to gauge her mood, so that he could present his proposal in the way most likely to lead to her saying, “Yes.”
Grinning, he realized this situation was not unlike a real estate deal. He’d start with some innocuous questions, about her apple-picking foray, to get her in the habit of saying “Yes” to him. Then he’d broach the subject of marriage.
He eased open the door to her workroom and was immediately struck with the scent of warm apples, with a hint of spices that made it smell like a hot toddy. He peered inside. She was standing over a large enamel soup pot, stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon.
Ally put down the spoon, resting it across the lip of the pot. Matt opened his mouth to greet her, but she started speaking before he had a chance to say anything. He thought at first she was simply talking to herself, reading the instructions to her recipe or something similar. Then her words penetrated his brain, and he stood numbly in the doorway, frozen in shock.
“Blessed Pomona, autumn Goddess of fruits and harvest, hear my plea. Fill this mead with your power and spirit, make us grateful for your gifts of bounty, help us to learn from our achievements and our failures in the past year, that over the winter we may prepare for new growth, and bless us with your generosity in the coming year. I offer you nutmeg, spice of good fortune and well-being.”
She sprinkled a pinch of dark powder into the pot, and the spicy fragrance in the room intensified. That was followed with a pinch of yellow powder. Matt struggled not to sneeze and give away his presence.
“I offer you ginger, herb of power and prosperity.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “And romance.”
Matt’s eyes widened. This was impossible. He was not watching the woman he’d planned on proposing to brewing a love potion.
“I offer you cloves, herb of prosperity and love.” She threw a half dozen cloves into the pot, then snapped a stick of cinnamon into pieces, brushing her hands together to knock all the pieces into her brew. “I offer you cinnamon, sacred spice of the goddess of love, for success.”
She picked up a handful of oval leaves, fanning them out and holding them in the steam rising from the pot, before releasing them to flutter down.
“I offer you bay leaves, herb of success and vitality. I offer you allspice, herb of prosperity and successful imagination.”
That was the last straw. “What the hell is going on here?”
Ally whirled to face him, one hand rising to her chest, as if to still her racing heartbeat. “Matt. What are you doing here?”
“Susan said you were out here, making apple wine. But you’re making some sort of witch’s brew. No wonder she said you didn’t want to be disturbed!”
He clenched his fists at his sides, his breath laboring as if he’d run all the way from the main road. He wanted to hit something, break things, knock her pot over and spill out its contents, anything to deny and destroy what he’d seen.
Her face was pale, her blue eyes huge, but she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I am making apple mead.”
“Oh, yeah? Then what was all that sacred goddess offering business? I’ve never seen any home brewing like that before.”
Their gazes met and locked. Hers demanding that he back down and stop prying. His begging that she give him a reason for her actions that he could understand. She glanced away first, dropping her gaze to the floor.
“I’m a witch, Matt. It’s part of honoring the sacred cycle of life.”
“You were making a love potion!”
Her gaze flew up to meet his accusing stare. “No! I wouldn’t do that. This is to celebrate the harvest, and ask for a successful next planting. That’s all.”
She reached out to touch him, to lay her fingers upon his arm, and Matt took a nervous step backward, out of range.
“I heard you, naming all your ingredients.” He wondered what else she brewed in here, unseen by her sister, then staggered against the door frame as the horrible truth hit him. “You brewed that salve. You drugged me. What was in it, magic mushrooms?”
“Matt, please.” Ally locked her hands together, behind her back, and took a cautious step backward. She was the picture of non-threatening innocence. Except that the pose thrust out her breasts most alluringly, daring him to forget his protests and grab the bounty she was offering. Despite everything, he felt himself growing hard with longing. He hated her for what she’d done to him.
“God, I thought you were an intelligent, rational woman. Magic potions and spells can’t make you successful. It’s all just illusion. Fantasy. Your family is depending on you, and you’re leading them to ruin.”
“I would never hurt my family!”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re destroying them. They just haven’t realized it yet. But Susan and Cindy have been through too much already. I owe it to them to warn them. To warn everyone.”
“No!” Ally abandoned her provocative pose and lunged across the room to grab his arm. “Please, Matt. If you care about Cindy at all, you can’t tell anyone. You know what Hargrove is like.”
Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks. “All I wanted was a normal childhood for her, a home where she would feel safe and loved. Don’t take that away from her.”
Matt longed to fold Ally into his arms, to kiss the tears from her cheeks, and to reassure her that everything would be all right. But it wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.
“I won’t say anything,” he finally agreed. “For now.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated, then whispered, “The maze?”
“I’ll see it through. To a success, and without any mumbo jumbo magic potion. Just hard work and planning.”
He had to. He always finished everything he started, completed every task according to plan. He was not his father, leaving a broken trail of half-finished projects and ideas behind him.
His fingers tightened into a fist. He’d finish his plan to get married, too. But to someone else. Someone responsible and respectable, not a dreamer who couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
“I thought I loved you,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t have. I never knew you at all.”
Turning on his heel, he strode out of Ally’s workroom, through the barn, and into the dark night. She called to him, begging him not to leave without letting her explain. But they had nothing more to say to each other.
Safely sealed inside the comforting enclosure of his truck’s cab, Matt closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. If his father’s spirit could look down on him now, he’d laugh his angelic ass off.
Chapter Six
Ally could barely choke down breakfast the next morning, fearful that at any moment the townspeople of Hargrove would come storming up the driveway, demanding that they leave. Being chased out of town because her aunt was a witch would be even worse for Cindy than simply losing her home when her father died. Ally had learned her lesson. She wouldn’t allow her personal desires to get in the way of what was best for Cindy. She only hoped she hadn’t learned the lesson at too high a cost.
“Don’t you feel good, Aunt
Allison?”
“I’m just a little nervous, sweetie. The corn maze opens tomorrow, and I’ve got a lot to do to get ready for it. I need to put plastic tape on the fencing, to make sure people see it and don’t wander into the wire, and put up signs saying where cars can park, and check all the transplanted corn stalks to make sure they’re doing okay…”
Ally trailed off into silence. Her niece didn’t need to hear a laundry list of errands, and she was only making matters worse, giving herself more worries on top of the huge one she already had. She didn’t know anything about running a maze, the logistics of parking and tickets and security. Matt was supposed to take care of all that.
Her heart clenched, remembering the stricken look on his face when she’d told him she was a witch.
She’d expected their affair to be short-lived. After all, he only believed in what he could see and touch. Her whole life was devoted to things that could not be seen. What was botany, but an attempt to explain the miracle of how lifeless seeds, given soil, water, warmth and oxygen, burst into life and became plants? Grains that had been saved by long-vanished civilizations, when planted, had yielded corn that grew as healthy and strong as if it had come from last year’s harvesting.
The effects of a growing seed’s changes could be seen and documented. The changes themselves were all precisely detailed in chemical formulas and reactions. But the cause of the changes, the breath of life that whispered to one seed and not another, “Grow,” was as much unknown now as when the first botanists had begun their field of study.
Tires crunched up the gravel driveway, kicking up too many stones to be Matt’s pickup. Her appetite now completely destroyed, Ally dropped her fork and hurried to the living room windows to see who had arrived. She pushed aside the curtain, fully expecting to see an army of pickups filled with pitchfork toting townspeople.
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