7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
J ust after sunset, we meet Chloe and Ray at the entrance to the corn maze. We discuss strategies for tackling the maze and decide we’re going to race as two teams, Chloe and Ray versus Hunter and me. The last team to exit owes the other team dinner. Chloe’s idea.
“You’re on!” Hunter says, rubbing his hands together. “Steak dinner is on you.” He points to Ray and Chloe.
“Not so fast,” Ray replies. “I’m a pro at corn mazes.”
Hunter looks between Chloe and me. “Are we sure the ladies don’t have insider knowledge about the maze? It's their family’s farm.”
“We don’t,” I say, “but would it matter if we did? Chloe and I aren’t on the same team.”
“True,” Ray says. “All right. Ready, set—”
Chloe yells, “Go!” so loudly I think my hearing is damaged.
Ray and Chloe take off running, and I look at Hunter. “Maybe we just go to the exit and wait for them. ”
“No way.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into the maze. “We’ve got this.”
I love the corn maze. Uncle Jim showed me how they plant the rows of corn one way and then plant over it a second time, going the other way to make the walls of the maze thicker.
They use satellite positioning to plant exactly where they want.
If you were in a plane flying overhead, you would see that this year’s maze is in the shape of the high school building, with its H shape and attached gym.
I saw the schematic at the family dinner in August.
As we step into the maze, with its thick rows of corn towering over us, Hunter doesn’t release my hand, gently pulling me forward through the narrow path.
We rush in about fifteen feet before we meet our first decision point.
Do we turn left or right? Knowing the exit is towards the left, that seems the obvious choice, but I know it’s a fool’s decision to turn left here.
I’ve been running these mazes for more than two decades.
You never go left at the first opportunity.
Hunter leans left, and I say, “Not left. Right.”
“Really?” he asks.
“The first turn is never to the left. Even Chloe knows that. Hurry.”
I pull him behind me, enjoying the warmth of his hand in mine. His fingers squeeze slightly, and I falter a step, turning to him.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Yes, lead the way,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips.
We proceed, making a few turns, doubling back twice when we realize we’ve reached dead ends .
“Are we sure there’s an exit?” he asks after another twenty minutes winding in and around the maze.
“There has to be. Or there’d be lawsuits.”
We find ourselves in another dead end, and I stomp my foot. I drop Hunter’s hand and run my hands through my hair in frustration. I don’t like to lose, and I can’t afford my own dinner right now, let alone someone else’s.
“Hey, we’ll figure it out. Let’s keep going,” Hunter says, picking up my hand and pulling me towards him.
In a momentary lapse of reason, I step towards him and put my arms around his waist. I just want to take comfort in his presence.
He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me close. “This is unexpected,” he says softly. “I like it, though.”
I shut my eyes and inhale deeply. We’re not lost. We’re perfectly safe.
While we may lose this race, we’ll be good sports.
Maybe this wasn’t about winning, anyway.
It was a good excuse for Chloe to spend time with Ray, and I got to spend time with Hunter.
Way to go, Chloe! Your brilliance amazes me.
Two young kids run by us. “Ew, gross,” one of them says.
Hunter chuckles, then whispers, “Ignore them.”
Why is he being so nice?
“Hey,” he says, pulling back from me.
I look up at him and sigh. Soft orange twinkle lights are woven through the maze to help people navigate it at night.
The lights create a cozy, warm glow on Hunter’s face.
I see a few faint lines around his eyes.
I have a sudden memory of Hunter at five, then sixteen, and now.
What an amazing experience to have known him for over twenty-five years.
Outside of my family, there are only a handful of people, maybe eight or nine former classmates, that I can say that about.
I imagine seeing Hunter’s face ten years, twenty years, even fifty years from now. The thought makes my knees weak.
For the first time, I truly feel like this is someone I could grow old with. I never thought about that with either of the men who proposed to me. Yes, they were both short-lived engagements, but shouldn’t I have been thinking about a lifetime with them when I said yes to their proposals?
Why am I thinking about this with Hunter? He’s not said he’s interested in me. He lives over three hours away. I’m an idiot for even entertaining this thought.
“Are you all right? Really all right?” he asks.
I’m not surprised he’s asking; I’ve gone from a cynical attitude and barely speaking to him yesterday morning to standing in his arms. He probably thinks I’m a scattered mess. He wouldn’t be incorrect.
“I’m fine. Sorry.” I try to step back, but he won’t release me. I tilt my head and look at him, raising my eyebrow.
Before I can say anything else, he leans down and kisses me. The kiss is tender and cautious, like he wants to heal the hurts inside of me but is worried I might slap him at the same time.
There’s no way I’m stopping this or slapping him. If he didn’t have his arms around me, I might fall to the ground like a scarecrow, a pile of straw and tattered clothing, boneless under the moonlight, with the twinkling lights surrounding us and the risk of more kids yelling “ew”.
I’d happily take the teasing, as long as I got this in return .
Far too soon, Hunter pulls back and locks his eyes on mine. He’s looking for my reaction. Kissing him back should have been enough of a clue, but I smile to let him know that I’m glad he took the initiative.