The Straw Man

by Bonnie Dee

  The scarecrow's crude face stared impassively down at her.

  Her heart broke and anger was replaced by hopeless despair. "Please. Please bring him back." She prayed to the nameless power that had brought her lover to life. "Please, please…" As she sank down on her knees in the mud at the base of the pole, her mind dissolved into wordless begging. She remained there for a long time in a near trance, crying and pleading, her forehead bowed to her knees.

  When she finally came back to herself, her hands and feet were freezing. She raised her face to the morning sun and its rays blinded her. Rising stiffly to her feet, she rubbed a hand over her eyes. She gazed around the pastoral landscape and back to the stuffed mannequin. It was still, not even the breeze stirring its lifeless form.

  The events of the previous night seemed preposterous. She was awake now and in control of her fevered emotions. Whatever had transpired, or she had dreamed, was past. Her one perfect night was over.

  She turned her back on the scarecrow and walked toward the house.

  New Scene

  The bright leaves of October changed to brown then cold winds stripped the trees bare, leaving black branches like jagged bones against the sky. Like a faded photograph, all color was leeched out of Marie's world and she sleepwalked through her days. She harvested the last of her crops, stripping the earth then plowing it under to lie dormant until spring. Soon the land would be lifeless, blanketed in white. But eventually a new season would come and fresh green would spread across the fields in the yearly affirmation of life. Too bad her heart couldn't recover so easily. It was a lump of ice and she didn't think it could ever thaw.

  Almost a month passed during which she did nothing but work, eat and sleep. During the day she could almost convince herself that the whole encounter with Sam had been some kind of hyper-real fantasy brought on by too much time alone and a way too active an imagination, but in her bed at night she knew that wasn't true. She could feel the impression of his body on her skin. Closing her eyes she could smell and taste him and remember how his muscles felt beneath her hands. Most nights ended with her hand between her thighs giving herself comfort, tears wetting her cheeks afterward as she cried herself to sleep.

  She went out to the field one day to take down the scarecrow for winter as she normally would this time of year, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it. She stared dry-eyed into the marker-scrawled face for a full fifteen minutes before turning away.

  One afternoon in late November, the phone rang. "Marie, I know you're there. Pick up! I haven't spoken to you in over a month. This is getting ridiculous… All right. Fine. Don't answer, but I'm coming out there this evening. Bob's old college friend, Marcus is visiting and you're going out with him. That's right, it's the dreaded blind, double date. Don't argue, just get dressed and we'll pick you up at 7:00 for dinner. Don't panic. You're not signing your life away. It's just a date. Remember those?"

  Marie sighed. She couldn't put Linda off forever and it sounded like her friend wasn't going to give her much choice. Besides, she couldn't hole up in her house like a hermit the rest of her life. It was time to go out with friends again, to try to date again, to move forward instead of treading water. She needed to make herself some kind of a life, even if it wasn't with the man of her dreams.

  She picked up the phone and called back to say she'd be expecting them.

  New Scene

  The evening was everything Marie had expected from a blind date. It was awkward, strained and more long than fun. She asked Marcus about his life and his career, but while he explained the details of his marketing job and told several work-related stories, she zoned out, mentally giggling at the idea of "Marcus from Marketing." The guy seemed nice. She was sure if she bothered to get to know him, he would be, but he wasn't what she wanted. She knew what she wanted and could never have again.

  Marie smiled, nodded and commented at all the right places in the conversation, but when she and Linda went to the restroom, her friend smacked her in the arm and said, "What's up with you? You look like somebody ran over your dog."

  "I've just been a little … depressed lately."

  "Well, get a prescription and snap out of it. You're scaring me a little."

  "I'm trying. Give me a break." Marie faced the mirror and applied fresh lipstick so she wouldn't have to look at Linda.

  But her friend was like a hound on a scent. "There's something going on here. I know the usual brand of melancholy Marie and this isn't it. What happened?"

  Marie shrugged. She was a horrible liar and knew it. Better to keep her mouth closed.

  Linda's eyes widened. "A guy! You met somebody and didn't tell me? Where? When? What happened? Did he break your heart?"

  It was an impossible story. Marie distilled it down to the essence. "It was a one-night stand. I hoped it could be more but … it couldn't."

  "Wow, he must have been really good to get you so worked up. In all the years I've known you I've never seen you really crush on a guy. Why didn't it work out?"

  Marie shook her head and checked her eyeliner.

  "Did he turn out to be a real prick?" Linda leaned back against the sink, arms folded, watching Marie. "Why couldn't something come of that one-nighter?"

  "No, he wasn't a prick. He was wonderful, but it wasn't meant to be."

  "'Meant to be?' Fuck that. It's such a cliche. If, at long last, you've finally found someone you want, you have to do something about it. That's always been your problem, Marie. You sit around and wait for things to happen to you. Stop living in limbo. For God's sake, make something happen for a change!"

  "How?" Marie couldn't explain the impossibility of her situation.

  "There's always a way. Now that's one cliche I believe in. That and 'a bird in the hand…' You've got to prove that lightning does strike twice. Contact the guy. Make it happen again. Carpe diem and all that."

  "For someone who doesn't believe in cliches, you sure like to spout them." Marie snapped her purse closed.

  "Look, we'll cut this evening short," Linda said, pushing off from the sink. "I can tell you're having a miserable time. We'll get you home and on the phone to this guy, pronto. Okay? Make it happen!"

  Marie smiled, overwhelmed by her friend's enthusiasm. "Okay."

  At the very least, she was getting early parole from an unwanted blind date.

  New Scene

  Marie thanked Marcus for the nice evening, apologized for bailing early and got out of the car. She stood on her front porch watching until the red taillights disappeared. She repeated Linda's advice aloud. "Make it happen."

  She went into the house, tossed her purse on the hall table and kicked off her shoes. Make it happen. She'd tried to convince herself for over a month that the whole experience had been a dream. It was ridiculous. The imprint of Sam's body on hers was too fresh, too real. It had happened and she'd be damned if she let such bliss slip away without protest.

  She relived every moment of that magical night and for the thousandth time tried to figure out how Sam had been brought to life. What entity or elemental force had given her that gift? How and why had it happened? More importantly, how could she make it happen again?

  "What do you need, huh? What do I have to do to win him back? Make a blood sacrifice?" she said aloud.

  Seized with the thought of a sacrifice, she went to her computer. She searched online for All Hallows Eve and read everything she could about the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain when the souls of the dead mingled with the living.

  On that day all manner of beings are abroad: ghosts, fairies, and demons—all part of the dark and dread.

  She learned about the harvest spirits, also known as fairies, which had extra power on that night. There was folklore concerning witches transmogrifying people into animals and stories about deals with the devil but nowhere did she find anything that told how one could force a transformation. But she knew the druids were big on blood sacrifice and it seemed a likely offering.

  Marie w
asn't about to sacrifice an animal, let alone a human being, but she figured her own blood was hers to do with as she wished. She read up on druidic rituals, found an American Indian prayer to the spirits of earth for good measure then took a sharp paring knife from the kitchen and some dish towels to staunch the wounds afterward and went out to the field.

  Kneeling in front of the scarecrow on the muddy earth and feeling like a complete asshole, she closed her eyes and fabricated a prayer. "Great Spirit, Faerie Queen, Pan, Earth Mother, whoever the hell granted my wish, I beseech thee. Please." She took the knife and made a careful cut across her palm. It hurt like hell and blood welled along the slice. She held her trembling hand toward the navy pants and smeared them with her blood. "Please, whatever higher power or elemental magic brought this being to life—do so again. Fix this!" She transferred the knife to her injured hand. It slipped in her blood-slicked palm. She grasped the handle tightly and cut into the flesh of her right palm, repeating the anointing of the scarecrow.

  "I offer this blood sacrifice to earn my, uh … boon. Please grant me this request. We only had one night. It wasn't enough. Please, please, please, give him back to me. I want a new life. I want to change."

  She wrapped her stinging hands around the dummy's squishy legs, letting the blood seep into the fabric of its trousers, and continued to pray, plead and cry. She pressed her forehead against the scarecrow, squeezed her eyes tight shut and concentrated on believing in what she was asking for, believing anything was possible.

  Whistling wind filled her ears. At first she didn't know if it was real or blood rushing from her head as she started to lose consciousness. "I believe. Come to me. I believe. Come to me," she repeated the phrases over and over like a mantra. There was a crash of thunder and a lightning flash that glimmered even through her closed eyelids.

  Marie opened her eyes, lifted her head and looked up at the bedraggled clothes hanging on the wooden frame. They moved and shifted in the unnatural wind, but underneath her gripping hands, the pants were still only stuffed with moldy straw.

  "Please!" she yelled, her cry rising to the midnight sky. She called it aloud and then mentally repeated that single word until she passed into an exhausted trance.

  Eventually she slipped into unconsciousness at the inanimate feet of the scarecrow and crumpled in a heap on the muddy ground.

  New Scene

  When the first rays of the sun touched her stiff, cold body, she shifted and woke. Please was her first waking thought and she realized she'd never stopped repeating it even in sleep. Please, I don't want to search for a companion, a partner, my other half. I've already found him. Please.

  A muffled groan made her sit bolt upright and snap her head around. Lying on the ground near her was a man's naked body. She did a mental inventory; long and lean, tan skin, dark hair. He lay on his side with his back turned toward her in the same fetal position from which she had just uncurled.

  Marie scrambled on all fours to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back in the dirt, leaving a bloody handprint on his arm. "Sam?"

  He groaned and his eyelids flickered once before opening. He stared up at her blankly, blinking, struggling to focus.

  "It's me. Marie. Something happened. You're alive! See!" She lifted his hand and brought it to his chest so he could feel the thumping of his heart.

  His dark gaze wandered from her face to the rose and lavender sky arcing overhead. The sun breached the horizon and gold limned every frosted blade of grass around them. It was going to be a crisp, clear autumn day.

  "I'm here," he rasped. He looked at the post. The old clothes still hung there but with no straw stuffing inside them.

  "You're real again." She clung to his hands as though he might slip away. "Do you remember what happened?"

  "No. I don't remember much of anything." His gaze traveled back to her and a warm smile curled his mouth. "Except last night in your bed. I remember every minute of that."

  She didn't bother to correct his assumption that no time had passed. She scanned his naked body, drinking in the long, lean muscles from shoulders to feet, then returning to the exotic yet familiar features of his handsome face. "You must be freezing. Come on. I'll help you up. We need to get you inside."

  She tugged on his hands, helping him to sit. When she winced slightly at the pain in her hands, his attention focused on them. He turned one of her hands palm upward and touched the crust of congealed blood along the cut.

  Marie realized she'd never wrapped it as she'd intended.

  "What happened?"

  "I gave blood," she joked. "But I didn't get juice and a cookie. Instead I got you." She threw her arms around him and hugged him to her.

  He buried his face in her neck, kissing it.

  They clung together for several moments and she breathed in his scent, hot male with a hint of straw.

  "I remember now," he mumbled against her skin. "You were calling for me over and over. I heard you … and then I woke up."

  "Yes."

  He pulled away from her and took her hand, once more tracing the line in her palm. "You gave part of yourself for me. A sacrifice."

  "It wasn't much, only a little blood."

  "But it binds us forever," he said quietly. "Like a vow."

  Forever. She liked the sound of that.

  He leaned in and kissed her. His mouth was soft and warm compared to his chilled skin.

  Her eyes closed and she reveled in a kiss that seemed to go on forever. She clung to him and smoothed her aching hand up and down his back. She wanted to feel all of him, all at once, to touch him everywhere and verify his reality. She wanted to get him into her bed and warm his cold body with her own.

  Marie broke free of the embrace, stood and helped Sam to his feet.

  He seemed stiff and uncertain on his legs, and shifted from foot to foot, looking down at them as though unable to believe they were his.

  She put an arm around his waist, resting a hand against his naked hip and together they staggered toward the house. Pausing on the front porch, she asked, "Are you ready for this? For life?"

  "Definitely." He glanced sideways at her and grinned. He entered the doorway of her house.

  Marie took one last look at the empty clothes hanging on the pole out in the dead pumpkin patch and at the brown, stubble field just beyond it. The land looked desolate now, but it would be green again in spring.

  Things changed. Her life stretched out before her brimming with possibility—her land, her home, her man. Through her willpower, she had changed the pattern of her life and anything could happen next.

  The End

  About the Author:

  Whether you're a fan of contemporary, paranormal, or historical romance, you'll find something to enjoy. My style is very personal and my characters will feel like well-known friends by the time you've finished reading. I'm interested in flawed, often damaged, people who find the fulfillment they seek in one another. Stop by my web site, http://bonniedee.com or my group blog, Erotic Muses at http://eroticmuses.blogspot.com. For future updates on my books, join my Yahoo group, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee/