Twenty-Three
Why did they have to make such a public spectacle of this damn thing? I felt like we had regressed to the days of the Coliseum, where the locals cheered as fighters marched in the arena to be slaughtered. Except this was Falston’s dirty little secret, and everybody turned a blind eye to how the participants were never seen again after entering the maze.
Small mercies that Bale informed me that all the spectators tapped out soon after the start, since no one could see or hear what was happening between the rows. They all just waited to see if the annual participant showed up at dawn, which no one ever did.
Arriving in the courtyard, it was packed. It definitely looked like Falston was preparing for the equivalent of a championship football game, a season finale. Lucky me, I got to play the part of the star quarterback.
Within seconds of arriving, I was swarmed with people all wishing me good luck, some of whom I didn’t really know. When I was given a shooter of cinnamon whiskey, I didn’t turn it down. Liquid courage had its time and place.
As promised, there was no sign of Bale or Corbin. They were likely already somewhere in the expansive corn maze, biding their time. Part of me wished they were here, even if it would do nothing to change the situation. I didn’t want pretty words telling me lies, but I wanted the strength of their presence and their honesty.
Turning to see if I could track down whoever had been handing out shots of booze, I came face to face with my family.
“Harlow! We are so proud of you, you’re going to do great,” my mom proclaimed with the most pride I’d ever seen from her. The fact that she had even turned out for this shitshow was surprising. For a woman who was always knee-deep in her work, a small-town event usually ranked low on her priorities.
She pulled me into a hug that felt warmer than normal, or maybe that was the whiskey talking. Then, it ended just as quickly when her phone began ringing in her pocket.
“Oh, I have to take this,” she murmured as she stepped away to take the call.
My dad stood there with suspiciously wet lashes. “I’m proud of you, pumpkin.” He patted me on the back before he chuckled. “Oh, fiddlesticks,bring it in.”
His embrace enveloped me in a nearly suffocating hug that lasted long enough to make me think he might not ever let me go.
“Thanks, Dad,” I whispered as I gave him a big squeeze before pulling back.
Then, just like that, he was gone. Someone flagged him down, wanting to talk about adopting his program. Guaranteed that would be a three-hour conversation alone.
That left just Beth and me standing there looking at one another. She moved suddenly, colliding against me as she threw her arms around my waist and her face into my shoulder. It rocked me back a step, but I held firm in my stance.
“Don’t end up like Amanda,” she whispered brokenly.
Holding her tight, I whispered back, “And leave you to navigate Dad’s next big life coaching program he comes up with? Please.” I teased, sounding more put together than I felt.
She gave a watery laugh as she looked up at me. “He’s already floating names. This morning, he was considering calling it the P.O.P.P.I.E.S. system.”
I cringed, not even wanting to know what all those Ps stood for.
“After this? We’re going to have another coffee date,” I promised.
Her finger jabbed me in the shoulder. “You better! You owe mesomany details.” Beth offered up a small smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Gather ‘round! We are about to get started!” The mayor shouted from the far end of the courtyard where the entrance of the corn maze loomed.
“That’s my cue,” I said, giving another quick hug to my baby sister.
On my way over to Mayor Dennison, the crowd parted to give me wider than necessary space. Each step forward was another piece of my armor building up internally.
I took my designated spot next to him as he reiterated the rules, all of which I ignored. The only things I needed to know were what my two guys had told me.
Looking up at the moon, I swore I saw the shadow of a crow circling above. Corbin? Probably.
“Good luck, young lady. Whenever you are ready, the maze is yours.”
Damn right it is.
Turning to look at the gap between the stalks, I braced myself. There was no turning back, only through. The cheers and applause behind me were nothing but white noise.
Cutting through all of it, a voice whispered, carried on the tail of a gust of wind. “Here, kitty-kitty.”
