Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Cassie
Returning to farm-life and pretending like everything is fine is even harder the second time I leave Atticus behind.
Nothing is fine, not by a long shot.
While I’m here on the farm, free to come and go as I please, Atticus is miles away, unable to do anything aside from exist. Day in and day out, rain or shine, he’s there.
Watching.
Waiting.
And I don’t know how to help him.
I go through the daily motions, helping with chores and anything else Aunt Bonnie asks of me, while my mind is far away, lost in the cornstalks.
Everything around me lacks vibrancy, like I’m looking at life through a cloudy lens.
It’s all just a task I must complete before I can do what I really want: return to the haunted cornfield.
It’s not just curiosity anymore; it’s obsession.
The scarecrow and his curse consume my mind and haunt my dreams.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him at all…
But I can’t help it.
He’s all I think about.
It’s no surprise that Madelyn picks up on it.
“You’re starting to worry me,” she says one morning while we’re feeding the barn animals. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
I shift on the spot, clutching an empty feed bag.
Okay seems like a stretch.
Manageable? Tolerable? Yeah, that’s more like it.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“Liar.” She narrows her eyes at me. “If you aren’t happy here, Cassie, no one will be upset if you leave. Of course, we love having you, but I know life on the farm isn’t glamorous. You’re used to the city and it’s a huge change…”
“I am happy.”
Sort of.
I’d be a lot happier if I didn’t have to sneak around to see Atticus, but I can’t risk getting caught. The same car being parked outside a field no one is supposed to enter won’t go unnoticed for long.
Maddie sighs and blows a stray hair out of her face. “I want to believe that, Cass. I do. But most days you look like a fox got in your chicken coop.”
I huff a laugh. “I know. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Well, it better not be your piece of shit ex,” she grumbles, bending to slice open another bag of feed. We’ve been out here for an hour working, and she’s hardly broken a sweat; she makes it look easy.
“It’s not. Promise.” As if I’d waste another second of my life thinking about him. “I’ll be fine.”
She shoots me a look but doesn’t argue as we finish up the chores and head back to the house. I pause on the porch, staring out across the vast field that stretches into the distance, my eyes locked on the cornfield I can barely make out on the horizon.
I sigh and head inside.
If I don’t want the family asking questions or prying, I have to do a better job at concealing my feelings. A better job at pretending everything is fine.
So, I try. Hard.
When the neighbors, the Smiths, invite us over for dinner, I go. Their oldest son spends the whole evening glancing at me across the table, and I try to be polite. Madelyn swears he’s a nice man, and he comes from money, but I don’t like the way he chews. Not interested.
Maybe if we never had to share meals together, I’d consider it, but that’s not realistic.
Besides, there’s someone else occupying my mind that I can’t shake, no matter what.
I apply for a few jobs around town, at the market and the local pharmacy.
I even fill out a few applications for remote work online, answering calls or replying to emails for big name companies I’ve never heard of.
I need a distraction, anything to keep my restless thoughts at bay, and farm chores aren’t cutting it.
Life is too quiet at my aunt and uncle’s house; there’s too much free time for my mind to wander.
Right back to the cornfield.
I want to go back. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to distract myself, it’s the only thing I think about.
How long it’ll be until I see him again, what we’ll talk about when I get there.
He lives in my mind every minute of the day, and I dream of getting lost amongst the cornstalks. Even if it’s only for a little while.
But is that really what’s best?
Atticus’ warning echoes through my thoughts, repeating like a bad weather siren. If the townspeople notice me hanging around the field, they’ll start asking questions. Investigating.
They’ll discover Atticus and surely try to kill him again, and I can’t bear the thought of him being hurt because of me. If staying away keeps him safe until I can figure out a way to break the curse, that might be the safest option for everyone.
But how do you break a curse when you’ve never even believed in them before?
I can’t ask anyone in Cold Springs without sounding an alarm and getting bizarre looks. And the internet is fucking useless—nothing about scarecrow magic there.
However, with every passing day, I find it more difficult to maintain my resolve. Staying away is more taxing than my chores at this point, and it’s getting harder to fight the nagging urge drawing me to the field.
I have to go back soon.
Otherwise, I’m going to lose my damn mind.
All Hallows’ Eve turns out to be the perfect time to visit Atticus again.
I politely opt out of the holiday parade my family is participating in, even though Madelyn offers to let me drive her four wheeler, and—impatiently—wait for them to leave after lunch. It takes everything in me not to tap my feet and drum my fingers while they take their precious time.
With a smile, I wave at them from the wrap-around porch before slipping back inside. Then I watch them slowly roll down the long driveway from the window. As soon as Madelyn’s truck disappears from view, I sprint up the stairs to my room to get ready.
Breathing heavy from the sudden cardio, I dress in the spookiest clothes I own which, admittedly, aren’t very spooky.
A pair of fitted jeans, a pumpkin sweater, with orange and black striped socks.
After tying my hair in a messy bun, I draw tiny spiderwebs at the corners of my eyes and slap on some black lipstick.
I give myself a once over in the mirror, turning this way and that. If I had a costume, I’d wear it for the occasion; Atticus would probably laugh if I showed up dressed as a cat or a fairy.
Or a crow.
I laugh at the thought and grab my backpack, freshly packed with a blanket, water, and snacks.
I don’t know how long I’ll stay today, but I’m not in any hurry.
If we spend the rest of the day laying in his clearing, staring up at the sky and swapping stories, it’ll be the perfect way to spend the day.
If it doesn’t get too chilly, I could even spend the night with him under the stars…
A smile works its way across my face at the thought, and I nearly skip to the front door. A few minutes from now, twenty at most, I’ll be back in the cornfield.
Finally, after an agonizing wait, I’m going to see Atticus again.
It’s almost too good to be true.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I lock the door behind me and hurry down the front steps to my car. My mind is already churning, images of the scarecrow blooming to life. The image of him smiling, his serious eyes lighting up when he sees me, plays over and over.
My stomach flutters, and heat prickles over my cheeks.
Silently, I scold myself. Feeling this way is silly.
I shouldn’t be this giddy to see a guy, but here I am smiling like an idiot and counting down the seconds until I see Atticus again.
This is nothing. Definitely not a crush.
But even as I think the words, I know they’re a lie.
I haven’t managed to go a couple of hours, much less an entire day, without thinking about him. Whether I want to admit it or not, I’ve caught myself falling for a scarecrow.
Who in their right mind would have thought?
I hit the unlock button on my key fob and reach for the car door handle just as a sound rips through the air, shattering the cold, calm afternoon.
Fear shoots down my spine, adrenaline crashing through my system.
A scream.
My stomach bottoms out, and the blood in my veins turns to ice. Slowly, my gaze drifts across the wide stretch of grass, toward the horizon, and I wait.
A minute goes by without any other sounds. Then another.
“It was probably just a crow,” I whisper, clinging to Aunt Bonnie’s words. I’d thought they were insane when she said them, but now I hope with everything in me that she was right.
Please, please let it be a crow.
I search the sky for any sight of wings and come up short. Nothing but a few wispy clouds break up the otherwise flawless, blue sky.
My chest constricts, my throat tight.
I wait another full minute.
“Just a crow,” I repeat under my breath, unable to move a muscle as fear still lances through me.
Surely, it can’t be anything else—
Another scream tears through the silence, this one longer and louder than the last. A pained, agonizing noise that seems to go on forever.
Realization sinks in, and bile burns the back of my throat.
There’s no way that sound belongs to any kind of bird.
Atticus.
I finally launch into action.
Ripping open my car door, I jump inside and toss my backpack into the passenger seat. Hands shaking, I jam the key into the ignition and crank the engine, sending dirt and rocks flying as I peel out of the driveway and head toward the road.
All the while, my heart is beating in my throat.
Atticus.
My mind stalls, unable to think of anything else. I don’t want to consider the possibilities, what could possibly cause him to scream like that, but I know in my bones it’s him.
Is he in danger? Is he hurt?
A wave of nausea rolls my stomach.
I’m supposed to spend the day with him. After waiting day after agonizing day, I’m finally going to see him.
But what if I waited too long? What if someone decides to go into the field today, on All Hallows’ Eve, to look for him? To hurt him? To try and kill him?
I shake my head and punch the gas, speeding down the road as the distance between me and the cornfield disappears. Every single other thing melts away, until all I can focus on is the stretch of asphalt in front of me and the pound of blood in my ears.
When I reach the cornfield, I slam on the brakes and skid to a stop. I can’t get out of the car fast enough, cursing when I nearly forget my backpack. Not that it matters much; nothing in the bag is going to help me if I come across someone in the field.
I didn’t even bring a weapon this time.
Without thinking, I bolt into the stalks the second my shoes hit the ground, running like my life depends on it.
“Atticus!” I scream into the jungle of green and beige around me. My voice cracks, and I try again. “Atticus! Where are you?”
Nothing but the rustle of cornstalks as I barrel through them answers me.
“Atticus!” I swivel my head back and forth, searching through the cornstalks for any flash of red or blue. Any sign of my precious scarecrow.
But again, I come up short.
“Fuck,” I pant, my lungs burning. My legs ache, and I slow to a brisk walk, but I keep going. I can’t stop now.
If he was okay, he surely would have shown up by now.
Right?
My thoughts spiral faster, countless horrifying scenarios fly through my head, and my panic soars to an all time high.
“Atticus, where are you?” My voice is low this time, a lump in my throat attempting to cut off the noise
Something shifts nearby, and I suppress a scream.
“Cassie?”
I hear him before I see him, that deep southern drawl tugging at me like a redneck siren’s call.
Atticus!
When he emerges from the stalks, a wave of relief washes over me. I blink and look him over head to toe, checking for anything that looks amiss or wrong, but he looks okay.
In fact, he looks… amazing.
His clothes are no longer tattered, his red jacket looking pristine, like he just took it off the hanger. His jeans are clean, his boots unscuffed. Even the burlap sack covering his face looks brand new, like it’s never been used.
I blink again to make sure I’m not seeing things, but his visage remains the same.
He’s alright. I exhale a little breath of relief. He isn’t hurt.
This must be what he looked like the day he was cursed.
Unmarred, untouched by the elements…
The lump in my throat swells as I look him over, and I can’t hold myself back anymore. I burst into a sprint, desperate to throw my arms around him, and slam into him in a clash of limbs. He loses his footing and falls backward, with me landing on top of him.
“I’m sorry!” I gasp as he groans, but all I can do is bury my face in his chest and breath in his earthy, woodsy scent like I need it to survive. “Fuck, I thought you were hurt. I thought something happened…”
His arms wrap around me as best as they can with my backpack in the way, and a soft chuckle escapes him.
“I’m fine, darling,” he says softly, running a gloved hand over my hair. “And I’m happy to see you, too.”