Читать книгу The Longest Halloween, Book Two - Frank Wood - Страница 5

It was a sight to behold, forty feet tall with ten-foot arms and twenty-foot legs ending in six-foot-long leather boots. The detail was tremendous. The shirt was puffy, like men used to wear in the olden days. A sword at least eight feet long was tied to its waist and the piece de resistance was the head, a huge, orange-colored, nicely carved fifteen-foot tall pumpkin. Smoke emanated from the stem of the pumpkin as pies cooked in the oven located in the back of the head. Joel remembered how much attention this feature had attracted from the local news media. The bright lights that formed the eyes seemed to look right at any visitors who made their way into or even near the McClafferty farm. It was a great advertising gimmick, one that the farm’s prior owner and Joel’s former boss, Ezra Grisson, would never have cottoned to. Just give the people a good, high quality product and you’ll never have to do anything else, he would say to Joel. Gazing up at the huge statue, this so-called Pumpkin King, would no doubt bring to mind pumpkins and Halloween with just one look.

Joel had seen his fair share of strange sights in his young life. Much of the reason was where he lived, of course. Portersville had a long history of peculiar residents, and of hosting weird events and happenings. Some of the older residents said it was because Portersville sat on the portal between the real world and the not-so-real world and that on occasion, it was not unusual for the two worlds to spill over onto each other, especially during the month of October—and even more especially during the last several days of October. Joel hadn’t been privy to this particular fact of town history until last Halloween, but much had happened since then, including the influx of the McClafferty family.

The McClafferty family was new to Portersville and they sure were making their mark. They had bought up the old Grisson farm lock, stock and barrel, and hadn’t wasted any time in launching their fall advertising campaign. It was strange for Joel. He had been a good worker for Mr. Grisson for three summers, and Mr. Grisson had sold the farm to the McClaffertys and left town without even a goodbye or a thanks for all the help or anything. And now Joel had to apply as a part-time worker for the McClaffertys. Steeling his nerves, Joel headed beneath the huge parted legs of the Pumpkin King and into the farmhouse. The air smelled of pumpkin pie, sweet cinnamon and nutmeg. Joel gazed at the wrinkled flyer he had stowed in his bookbag for a few days now. Thinking of his car and of Polly, he confidently strode up to the door to the McClafferty (used to be Grisson) Farm & Vegetable Garden and Cider Mill Factory. A few minutes later, Mrs. McClafferty was calling his name.

“That’s me,” he replied, rapidly stumbling to his feet and dropping the clipboard and application and pen to the floor.

“No need to be nervous, dearie,” Mrs. McClafferty smiled at him, “and don’t mind him,” she said, looking towards the great Pumpkin King. “We share you all’s traditions with regards to the old codger.”

In Portersville and some of the surrounding boroughs, everyone knew the legend of the Pumpkin King, a huge pumpkin-headed giant who was said to in reality be the ghost of a fisherman who was cursed every Halloween to have his head transformed into a jack-o-lantern and then compelled to wander the streets looking for lost or dallying trick or treaters to kidnap and take home to his desecrated lighthouse. Some said that this was the reason why Portersville in particular started the bonfire each Halloween evening to guide those lost trick or treaters safely back home. A silly old fairy tale, Joel used to think, until the events of last year began to slowly change his mind about such things.

“He’s been a part of our family for years, all forty-five feet of him,” Mrs. McClafferty remarked, “He’s a bear to put up every October but he increases our sales by a good forty percent. I say, if the car dealers can do it with King Kong, we can surely do it with the Pumpkin King!”

“Nice touch,” Joel said, a slight shiver that he would never own up to running down his spine.

“Thank you, dearie,” Mrs. McClafferty giggled, “won’t you come in?” She led him back to her office. Mrs. McClafferty was a short, round woman with round glasses perched on her nose. Her gray hair was tied up in an elaborate bun on the top of her head. Joel wasn’t sure, but it looked like there was a stripe of magenta in the center of her bun.

“Well, Joel,” she began, regarding him over her spectacles, “your application here looks fine.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replied.

“And you were a prior employee of Mr. Grisson, is that right?”

“Yes ma’am, and even though we can’t work until we’re fifteen, Mr. Grisson never minded bending the rules a little so we could earn some money and learn the value of hard work,” Joel said.

“Yes, there is a value to hard work, isn’t there?” Mrs. McClafferty replied.

“Yes ma’am.”

“I like your attitude,” the woman smiled, “and you’re very respectful. Your parents must be very proud of you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel said.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” she said, “why don’t you spend an hour or so in the patch with the boys and let’s see if this kind of work really does suit you. We run a bit more of a robust operation here than Mr. Grisson did, but there are reasons for that.”

She rose to her feet and so did Joel. There was a pounding sound from beneath them in the cellar. ”Must be some more of the pumpkins settling in storage,” Mrs. McClafferty smiled, almost nervously, Joel thought. “Well Joel, thanks for your time.” She smiled, extending her small gloved hand. “I’d like to hire you back.”

“Thank you ma’am,” he said, surprised at his good fortune.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, directing him to the mud room. “You’ve worked here before, you know what we do here on a pumpkin farm. It’s really a no-brainer. Why don’t you take a look at our fields this year?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said. “Oh, but,” Joel remembered, “I’ll still be able to get back to town by three, won’t I? I’ve got to pick up my little brother from school.”

“Why of course, this is just a trial is all, Joel, to see if you’ve got the chops for what we do out here,” Mrs. McClafferty said. “You’ll want to get on pair of boots. It can get pretty messy out there, but you know that, don’t you?” she said, motioning him toward some worn boots in the corner. “Gloves are hanging right above you on that hook.”

Joel quickly got into the old boots he remembered so well and reached for the gloves. He followed Mrs. McClafferty onto the back porch overlooking the expansive pumpkin patch that comprised the back side of the Grisson, er, the McClafferty farm. Joel saw several boys already in the patch.

“Aaron,” Mrs. McClafferty called out to one of the bigger boys, who looked up at her, “this here’s Joel! He’s applied for the field hand position. Show him what we do here. He’s got to leave by two thirty though … has a little brother to pick up from school.”

“Yes, Ma,” Aaron replied and motioned Joel to join them.

“Thanks again.” Joel nodded to Mrs. McClafferty and headed out to the patch.

“Don’t mention it.” Mrs. McClafferty eyed him with a curious smile. As Joel made his way out into the field, the round woman turned back to the front room of the farm where another boy stood, holding the Help Wanted sign from the front window. The sounds from the cellar had gotten even louder.

“I’m here about the job,” the boy said.

“I’m sorry dearie,” Mrs. McClafferty replied, snatching the cardboard sign from him, “but I’m afraid you’re too late … the job’s just been filled.”

“Aww,” the boy said.

“But do have a candied apple,” Mrs. McClafferty handed him a waiting fruit, “on the house. Sorry you made the trip all this way.” As the boy left, Mrs. McClafferty stomped on the floorboards through which the sounds had been emerging.

“Be still, you!” she muttered under her breath.

Aaron was the hairiest boy that Joel had ever met. He couldn’t have been much older than Joel but he was at least a head taller and his long brown hair trickled down his back in a long ponytail. His arms were also covered in hair all the way down to his knuckles. He had a strong grip, and Joel noticed that the palms of his hands were also covered with hair.

“Sorry about my hairy hands,” Aaron said, noting what must have been surprise on Joel’s face, “we’ve tried everything. Mom says it’s genetic.”

“No worries,” Joel returned.

“I’m Aaron and these are my brothers Ezekial and Hezekiah,” he said, nodding to the other boys who nodded in return. “We really appreciate you coming to help us out,” Aaron said, putting on his gloves. “We’re harvesting the pumpkins, Joel, and taking them into town for people to buy. This year the field’s pretty full of them.”

Joel looked around and saw that indeed the patch was all orange and yellow and green.

“They can be pretty heavy to move,” Aaron said, “so you’ve got to be pretty strong.”

“I’m a green belt in tae kwon do,” Joel said. “I guess that makes me pretty strong.”

“Mom’s supplying the pies for the big Harvest Carnival on Halloween,” Aaron went on. “So far the order is for a cool five hundred pies.”

“That’s a lot of pies,” Joel said.

“More like a lot of pumpkins to move,” Hezekiah cut in.

“But we’ve got to get it done,” Aaron said. “Halloween’s real important this year.”

“Hey,” the boy named Ezekial suddenly and gruffly cut in, “are we hauling or jawing here? Didn’t Ma say that Joe here needs to leave by half past?”

“It’s Joel,” he smiled. Ezekial was stouter than Aaron, with thick bushy black hair and eyebrows that were just as dark and also came together as one over his eyes. His long, dark sideburns came down to his lips.

“Don’t mind him, Joel,” Aaron said, “he gets a little excited is all. But he’s right, we’d better get to it.”

It didn’t take long for Joel to work up a sweat helping the boys load the pumpkins into the backs of waiting trucks lining the corner of the patch. They are really strong guys, Joel thought; they seemed to load those pumpkins as if they were nothing. He almost wondered why they would even need him.

“You boys want some lemonade?” Mrs. McCafferty made her way to the pumpkin patch bearing a tray with four glasses of the best looking lemonade that Joel had seen. They rapidly downed the tasty beverage.

“Well, Joel,” she said, “how do think you’ll like pumpkin harvesting?”

“I think I’ll be all right, ma’am,” Joel said between gulps of the lemonade. “I’ve done it before, after all. I just need to make sure it’ll be all right with my mom.”

“Well of course,” Mrs. McClafferty said, “and I’m happy to talk with her on the phone if you’d like.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Joel said.

“Oh and Aaron,” she said to her son, “I’m afraid the pumpkins in storage are shifting a bit … it makes for a lot of noise in the showroom. Can you see to keeping things a little more quiet for me?”

“Sure, Ma,” Aaron grinned, “no problem!” He ambled off to the cellar with a mallet, which Joel thought was unusual.

“Looky here,” red-headed Hezekiah said, nodding at a rapidly approaching convertible.

“Your brother’s a little early,” Mrs. McClafferty said, “and it looks like he’s brought company.”

Joel narrowed his eyes. The other brother was none other than Ian Samuels … and the company was none other than Polly! Ian pulled his shiny silver convertible into the clearing and hopped out. While Joel could see some of the family resemblance, Ian was not as hairy as his brothers.

“Afternoon, all, Mother,” Ian said.

“Did you bring my nutmeg and critters, son?” Mrs. McClafferty asked.

“Of course,” Ian replied, “Polly wouldn’t let me forget. He handed her a large brown bag. “Oh, this is Polly, by the way, the friend from school I was telling you about.”

Aaron emerged from the cellar with the mallet and tossed it aside.

“Yes, Polly, how lovely to meet you at last,” Mrs. McClafferty said, taking Polly’s hand as she emerged from the car. “Might I say that you’re quite a brave girl to ride along with my son here. He’s got quite the lead foot, you know.”

“Mother,” Ian said, his big lips curling in a smile around huge white teeth that Joel was sure looked almost wolf-like.

“Nice to meet you,” Polly said.

“These here are Ian’s brothers … Aaron, Hezekiah and Ezekial,” Mrs. McClafferty went on. It was clear that the boys seemed to change up a bit around Polly. They were all looking at her as if they almost wanted to eat her.

“And here’s our newest worker,” Mrs. McClafferty began.

“Joel,” Polly finished, “what are you doing out here?”

“Like she said,” Joel replied, “I’m working.”

Polly frowned a bit.

“But Joel,” Mrs. McClafferty replied, “it’s nigh to two thirty. You said you had to get back to town.”

“Uh … right, thanks,” Joel replied.

“I’ll be calling your mother tonight to talk more about your work schedule,” Mrs. McClafferty said.

“Thank you ma’am,” Joel replied.

“Oh no, thank you,” she said, “we’re very happy to have you on board.”

“Joel,” Ian jumped in, extending his hand. “I think I’ve seen you around school, haven’t I?” Ian’s grip, predictably, was like a vice. Joel couldn’t count the number of times he had been at the mercy of Ian’s power during practice sessions of tae kwon do. He almost felt tears leap to his eyes. “Just kidding of course. A happy heart doeth like good medicine—that’s in the Good Book,” Ian grinned, “and of course I know one of my most earnest students.”

Joel would have rolled his eyes had the pain not been so sharp. Ian had to rub in the fact that even though there couldn’t be two years between them, he still regarded himself as the teacher and Joel as the student; and while that was what they were, Ian’s attitude got to Joel.

“Great demonstration today in school, Franklin,” Ian went on. “I think we’ve drummed up a lot of interest in the Tae Kwon Do Club!”

“If you say so,” Joel managed to get out.

“I didn’t slam you too hard, did I?”

“Not at all. My little brother hits harder.”

Polly stifled a laugh and Ian turned red. “Funny guy.”

“How are you related? I thought your last name was Samuels,” Joel managed to to spit out.

“I’m adopted,” Ian hissed back, tightening his grasp, “want to make something out of it?”

“No,” Joel coughed, fairly certain that his hand was now a blob of clay.

“Cool,” Ian said, “glad you can help out Mom and my bros here.” He smiled mirthlessly down at Joel. “We’re planning big things here at the end of the month, you know. Can’t get enough help to make it a success.” He finally let go of Joel’s hand, smiling triumphantly at the fact that he had squeezed it to a pulp.

“Well,” Joel said, “I’d better be going.”

Joel felt strange as he went back into the farmhouse to deposit his boots and gloves. He felt doubly strange that he was leaving his ex-girlfriend behind in a situation that Joel wasn’t sure of, but that felt almost perilous.

“And Joel, once you’re fully hired, we can prorate the hour you spent today for your salary,” Mrs. McClafferty called after him.

“Yes, thank you ma’am.” Joel smiled uneasily, not really sure what she meant by “prorate”. Lost in his swirl of thoughts and emotions, Joel tripped up the stairs. There was a guffaw, which Joel thought was from Ian, and he quickly scrambled up and into the farmhouse, eager to get on his bike and make his way back to town. He felt all of their eyes on him as he wheeled his way out of the farm. Then he began to wonder just what he had gotten himself into. He would have had even more cause to wonder if he had seen Aaron sidle up to his mother’s side and heard him mutter, “You sure about this, Ma? He won’t get in the way, will he?”

“Oh dearie, he’s harmless,” Mrs. McClafferty replied. “I wouldn’t trouble my mind. Not when there are other things that are far more important right now…like first getting all these pumpkins cleared out and unloosing the critters into the field before All Hallows’ Eve and secondly, welcoming new and useful acquaintances to our bosum,” Mrs. McClafferty turned to Polly.

“You’re a very pretty girl, Patsy,” she said.

“It’s Polly,” Polly smiled.

“Of course it is,” Mrs. McClafferty said. “And look at your luxurious hair, it’s simply breathtaking, wouldn’t you say?”

That was weird, Polly thought as Mrs. McClafferty went on. “Ian, why don’t you show young Polly here around the farm and then treat her to some of our pumpkin roll?”

“Oh ma’am, I’m not hungry,” Polly began.

“Oh, but I bet you will be, once you have a taste of our delicious pumpkin and cream roll,” Mrs.McClafferty countered.

“Come on, Polly,” Ian said, pulling her by the hand, “I’ll show you the farm!” As Ian led Polly off, the boys clustered around Mrs. McClafferty.

“So, Ma, is she the one?” Aaron asked.

“She’s the spitting image of her great-grandmother, the skank heifer,” Mrs. McClafferty said, her voice darkening. “Your father will be up and about in no time.”