Chapter 24
The gourds, scarecrows, and signs throughout the corn maze helped Anson keep his bearings.
Based on the number of times Hadley and Mercy had led their party of four down the same dead end, landmarks weren’t their thing.
Anson brought up the rear, letting them have their fun because, as long as they wandered these dusty aisles, he had time to think about Blaze.
He longed to talk to her more—every day, multiple times per day.
If he could, he’d become such a regular at her house that even the temperamental little rabbit wouldn’t shy away.
He’d risk any threat David or anyone else mustered if he could feel her snuggled against him for a movie.
And if he ever did kiss her, he suspected his imagination would fall woefully short of reality.
Did she find him even half so intriguing?
Confessing his feelings would risk the friendship, but pining silently would undermine the openness they’d established. Each time they talked, he craved more connection, and he was tired of inching along.
He had to make a move.
The corn maze funneled them around another corner. Hadley, Mercy, and Jasper ran toward the blazing orange dead-end sign, as if they couldn’t read it from ten feet back.
He needed a clear gesture for Blaze. Something as unique as she was. If only her fire-related nickname weren’t tied to painful memories, he could show up on her doorstep carrying a literal torch for her.
“Are you laughing at us?” Hadley stabbed her hands onto her hips. “You’re laughing at us.”
He raised his hands in innocence. He was laughing at a pun, and he didn’t need to give Hadley another reason to call him Dad.
Mercy assessed him, then pushed her thick bangs away from her glasses and looked down the path they’d just taken.
Jasper trudged back, retracing their steps. Hadley and Mercy giggled, then trotted past him and into the lead.
Anson fell into step beside Jasper. “So, how do you know Hadley?”
“School. She’s in my gym class. And science. And English.”
“That’s a lot of classes. Which one’s your favorite?”
“Science, I guess.”
It wasn’t much of an opening, but Anson took it by asking questions about the class’s subject matter.
He appreciated that Hadley had invited Jasper, but if he had to guess, a crush was involved, and she was too nervous to interact with him.
That or she’d just wanted the Rooted hoodie, which she’d immediately layered over the sweatshirt she’d arrived in.
She had to be roasting on a nice day like this.
Anson and Jasper trailed the girls another ten minutes until, finally, Anson spotted the exit.
Mercy giggled. “Maybe it’s this way!” She turned away from the opening in the maze that showed a slice of the barnyard.
Hadley hopped to her side. “Yeah! Let’s go.”
Anson checked his watch. “We only have half an hour left. The longer we’re in here, the less time you’ll have to shop.”
The girls froze and looked at each other.
“Shop?” Jasper groaned.
“Let’s try this way!” Mercy sprinted for the exit.
As they stepped into the barnyard, Jasper fell to his knees and pretended to kiss the ground. Mercy’s laughter rose over the bleats of goats and the chatter of the other children filling the barnyard.
Hadley grabbed his hands and pulled him up. “Come on. My mom gave me money for a pumpkin.”
And the kids were off.
“Stay together,” Anson called after them.
“Okay, Dad!” Hadley waved wildly without looking back.
Goats and miniature horses nibbled treats and grass in a pen beside a barn-turned-craft-store.
The white farmhouse served as a café. Pumpkins blanketed the lawn of the former home.
He counted nine MOBC students and two leaders, meaning one leader and seven students were either in the corn maze or exploring one of the buildings.
As long as the kids stayed in pairs, they didn’t need a leader.
Carter and his friend—one of the twins from the canoe trip—were the exception.
Anson assigned them to stay with Ray, but Carter and his buddy slipped into the craft barn unattended.
Anson followed at a distance. He didn’t think Carter would shoplift, but he hadn’t expected the student to drink on a youth group outing either.
While Carter and his friend tried on colorful knit hats they clearly had no intention of buying, Anson browsed the home décor.
Would Blaze like any of this? A few nature scenes hung on her living room walls, and there’d been throw blankets and pillows on the couch and chair.
But no knickknacks like they sold here. Papers and books covered most of the surfaces at Blaze’s.
Where would she even put a ceramic pumpkin?
The boys gravitated toward the candles. Carter popped the wooden lids off the jars one after another, smelling each before putting them back. Rarely, he offered one to his friend to smell. Did he actually want a candle?
Anson made his way up the aisle and stopped by the teens. “Who’re we shopping for?” He picked up one labeled apple pie, but it didn’t smell as good as canned pie filling, let alone the from-scratch delicacy his mom baked every autumn.
“Which one do you think my mom would like?” Carter set down lavender charcoal and picked up hyacinth dreams.
“She likes flowers?” Anson asked.
Carter shrugged.
Anson tried cherry blossom, but that smelled like baby powder. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just want to get her something.”
Anson chuckled. “Trying to get out of trouble?”
Carter shook his head, mouth tightly shut.
Obviously disinterested, his friend wandered back outside as Anson tried more of the food-scented candles. His hand hitched mid-reach in front of one labeled peanut butter cookies. The ivory wax didn’t come close to recreating the aroma of Blaze’s baking.
He tried another, then offered it to Carter. “Sugar cookie’s not bad. My mom likes the ones that smell like vanilla like this.”
Carter accepted the candle, inhaled, and chewed his lip. “It doesn’t smell like soap like most of them.”
“It’s the thought that counts, right? She’ll be happy you thought of her while you were out with your friends.” Few teenage boys would. Some of the youth group girls browsed nearby, but none of the boys.
Except Jasper, who trailed behind Mercy and Hadley carrying a massive pumpkin. Poor kid.
As Carter started for the register, Anson considered getting a candle for Blaze.
But again, fire. Plus, the peanut butter cookie candle didn’t smell as good as the real thing.
Maybe he should bake cookies for her. Since Blaze was tired, she probably wasn’t spending much time in the kitchen, but she clearly valued homemade food.
Decision made, he caught up to Carter in line. “How’s your mom been?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Just okay?”
Carter shrugged, his main mode of communication today.
“Is she still involved with the women’s ministry?”
“Yeah.” The line moved forward, and Carter put the candle on the counter. He didn’t offer more details about why he thought a gift was in order.
Anson prayed Carter would talk to him if something significant had happened. With basketball tryouts starting Tuesday, they’d see more of each other. Maybe then he’d open up. “I’m getting a cider for the road. Want to come?”
Carter looked at the brown gift bag the cashier had placed the tissue-wrapped candle in, then at his friends, then toward the van. “Yeah, sure.”
Movement through the living room window drew Blaze’s attention from the TV. A dark blue SUV parked at the curb. She made a living off cars and tended to note what makes and models people drove. Despite never having been inside this vehicle, she knew who drove it.
Anson.
She flung aside the blanket she’d draped across her lap. Bunny fur coated one knee of her black joggers. A ranch dressing stain marred her charcoal gray sweatshirt. She’d gone an extra day without shampooing her hair because she wasn’t supposed to see anyone today besides Mercy.
Even that was limited. Mercy came home from the corn maze and then headed to the library with Amelia.
Anson stepped onto the front walk. She didn’t have time to change, but she did snatch a hair clip off the coffee table. The thing would never manage to restrain all her hair, but it held the top half back.
As he rang the bell, she stabbed the button to turn off the North and South miniseries she’d been watching. Just seconds before the big kiss at the finale too. She paused a moment to breathe before swinging open the door.
Anson wore jeans and a flannel layered over a T-shirt. Autumn sunshine washed his shoulders and highlighted his hair. He held a thin produce bag and the container she’d used when she left him cookies. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She stepped back to let him in. “I heard you assigned yourself Mercy and Hadley at the corn maze—brave choice. They didn’t completely ignore Jasper, did they?”
“Not completely.” He shut the door behind himself.
She crossed her arms, unsure why he’d come or what to do with him. She nodded toward the container he held. “Looking for a refill?”
“Nope. First …” He extended the produce bag. “This is parsley. The rabbit can eat that, right?”
She accepted the offering in dumbfounded silence. He’d shopped for BunBun? The bunny had been running laps earlier, but she didn’t spot him in his usual living room hangouts now.
“You don’t have to give it to him now or anything.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She folded the bag around the bunch of parsley. “And the container?”
He passed it to her. “Mom always said not to return dishes empty.”
“That really wasn’t necessary.” The contents rattled as she accepted the gift. “Mercy and I have cut back on sweets.”
“I remember. How’s that going? The diet change and medication?”
“I decided to take your advice.”
“How so?”