The Pumpkin House Page 3

  * * *

  Ronnie and Sarah had decided, to be fair, they would switch off every hour. As they made their way down the list of names beginning with the letter B, Ronnie had to agree with Sarah’s statement how there were a lot of B names; they’d been working for the past hour and a half and were just now halfway through them.

  “William Booth,” Ronnie told Sarah. He watched her write the name on the jack-o’-lantern, and then he checked it off and glanced at the next name. He decided it was time to see how good of a sense of humor Sarah had.

  Sarah placed the jack-o’-lantern in the growing pile of completed ones and walked back over to the unfinished ones. “Who’s next?”

  “Tammy Bowen,” Ronnie told her.

  Sarah started to write the name on the jack-o’-lantern but stopped before the tip of the Sharpie had touched the bottom of the pumpkin. She glared up at Ronnie, who had a mischievous grin on his face.

  “That’s my Mom. I think you forgot someone, jerk-off.”

  She tossed the marker at Ronnie, who let out an over-exaggerated yelp of pain when it hit him in the chest.

  “Hey, take it easy,” he said, giggling at her reaction. “What’s the matter? You afraid Old Notch-foot will come and get your soul if we don’t put your name on a jack-o’-lantern?”

  Ronnie laughed even harder until he realized Sarah hadn’t found his remark the least bit amusing. She had one of those serious adult looks on her face again.

  “That’s not funny, Ronnie.” She was using the same tone a mother would use when scolding her child, a tone Ronnie had heard too many times from his own mother.

  “Oh, come on, Sarah. I was only joking. What’s the big deal?”

  “Old Notch-foot is the big deal,” a voice said from behind Ronnie.

  Startled, Ronnie jumped and glanced behind him. Mr. Keenan was staring at him with the same stern look Sarah had just given him; only the old man glared at him as if he’d just said he was going to go play with matches in the woods.

  Mr. Keenan glanced over at the remaining jack-o’-lanterns. “Looks like you’ve got about seventy-five jack-o’-lanterns left to do today. Let’s take a little break and talk.” He sat down in the extra chair at the table, leaned his cane against his leg, and then folded his hands in front of him. “Ronnie, even if it happens by accident, unless a person has their name on a jack-o’-lantern at midnight on Halloween, then Old Notch-foot will take that good soul.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Keenan. I was just playing around with Sarah and wasn’t really going to leave her name off the list.”

  Mr. Keenan stared into Ronnie’s eyes for a moment, trying to ascertain whether or not he was telling the truth.

  Ronnie hoped Mr. Keenan believed him; he honestly would’ve told Sarah about skipping over her name if she hadn’t figured it out. He was only teasing with her. But at the same time, he wouldn’t have fessed up because he believed that nonsense about Old Notch-foot taking people’s souls.

  Finally, Mr. Keenan seemed to believe Ronnie, sitting back more in his chair as the stern and upset look on his face dissolved.

  “Halloween originally came from an old Celtic festival called Samhain. You ever heard of it, Ronnie?”

  Ronnie seemed to remember hearing that strange name before in one of the Michael Myers’ movies; Halloween II he thought. But he decided to play dumb so he could see where Mr. Keenan was going with this.

  “No, I haven’t. What’s that?”

  “Long ago, the Celts – the people who lived in Ireland – held an annual festival to celebrate the year’s harvest. It happened this time of year. But, according to the Celtic calendar, Samhain was the day of the New Year. Nowadays, our new year starts on the first of January. But, back then, it was on Halloween. So, Halloween could be interpreted as a time for new beginnings and to start things fresh.”

  This was definitely not the way they’d described Samhain in Halloween II. Ronnie remembered how Dr. Loomis had called Samhain the “Lord of the Dead” and how the movie had tried to make it sound evil.

  Hollywood, Ronnie disgustedly thought, they’ll do anything to make a buck.

  Ronnie pondered the idea of new beginnings. On New Year’s Eve, people made New Year’s resolutions, promises to themselves about things they wanted to change in their lives. These resolutions were things like moving to a new town or getting a new job or even quitting smoking.

  It didn’t take long for Ronnie to figure out what a “new beginning” and a “fresh start” for his mother would involve. It would be a life without Rick. And even though he knew his mother would never make a New Year’s resolution to get rid of Rick permanently, he believed she would benefit so much from this new beginning and be so much happier in her fresh start, even if she was unable to realize it or unwilling to admit it to herself.

  “I never knew that about Halloween. I like that idea,” Ronnie honestly admitted.

  “Usually, when you get past the outer appearance of something, you’ll find its true meaning is quite different from what you originally thought. The same is true for Halloween. Get past all the costumes, candy, decorations, haunted houses – and yes, even the jack-o’-lanterns – and you’ll find something very special and very important. As long as you know the true purpose of something, then you’ll understand it better and may even start to appreciate it more.”

  Ronnie thought about Mr. Keenan’s point for a minute. He definitely had a new perspective on Halloween. Dressing up in a costume to go trick-or-treating was the important part about Halloween when you were a little kid, but there could definitely be more to it once you got older.

  He glanced over at Sarah, remembering how she’d told him Halloween was her favorite holiday. At the time, Ronnie had considered it a childish statement to make. But now, he could see why Halloween might be her favorite holiday. Getting candy didn’t make Halloween important; it was the deeper and probably lesser known meaning behind it.

  “I guess Halloween isn’t as bad as I thought.” Ronnie paused and looked at Sarah again. “It’s kind of cool in a way.”

  Sarah gave him a big smile, making him feel like – well, he wasn’t sure how it made him feel. He was starting to have mixed emotions about Sarah, bordering between a friend and a girlfriend.

  “Well, I guess I should let you two get back to work,” Mr. Keenan said, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing his cane.

  As the old man hobbled back around to the front of the house, Ronnie looked at him in a new light, appreciating how he’d given him a new perspective on Halloween.

  A couple of hours later, they finished up for the day at around four o’clock. They’d finally made their way through the B names and had just got started with the C’s (stopping with Sandra Casey) when they ran out of jack-o’-lanterns. When they were done, Sarah carefully put the list and pens back into the box.

  “I’m gonna run this up to Mr. Keenan so nothing happens to it.”

  Ronnie was amazed at how serious Sarah took volunteering at the Pumpkin House.

  “Okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yep, you sure will. And Ronnie, remember what we talked about earlier. Don’t let your emotions about the stuff with Rick get the better of you. Just be patient and be there for your mom in case she needs you. It will all work itself out.”

  She walked over to Ronnie and gave him a brief hug before he even knew what was going on. Those mixed feelings rose up in him again, and he was thankful when Sarah finally pulled away from him.

  “See you tomorrow, Ronnie.”

  “Bye, Sarah.”

  As Ronnie watched her walk around to the front of the house, he already couldn’t wait to see her the following day.

  Part Three:

  October 27th, Four Days ‘til Halloween

  Ronnie yawned as he placed the finished jack-o’-lantern underneath the tent.

  Sarah giggled. “Watch it, sleepy head. We’d hate to fire you for falling asleep on the job.”

  Ronnie
shook his head to try and wake up. He’d barely slept a wink the previous night and had arrived earlier than usual. He was not only excited to see Sarah, but he was also looking forward to working at the Pumpkin House given his new perspective on Halloween thanks to Mr. Keenan’s little talk yesterday.

  “Don’t worry,” he told her, “you couldn’t pay me to quit.”

  Sarah gave him a surprised look. “Well, that’s quite a different attitude from just a couple of days ago.”

  Ronnie was saved from any further teasing by Mr. Keenan coming around the side of the house. His dog, Rusty, followed close on his heels. “I came to see how you two were doing today,” he asked. He compared the pile of finished jack-o’-lanterns with the pile of unfinished ones. “Looks like you’re ahead of schedule.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah told him, “Ronnie decided to actually do some work today.”

  The old man laughed, pulling out a chair to sit down. Rusty flopped down beside him and was drifting off to sleep within seconds. As they joined him at the table, Ronnie figured now was as good a time as any to ask something he’d been wondering about all day.

  “Mr. Keenan, my Mom’s lived in Smith’s Grove her whole life. I asked her about Old Notch-foot last night but she’s never heard of him. And, from the way you talk, there aren’t too many people in town who have. How do you know about him?”

  Mr. Keenan glanced at his watch. It was just a few minutes past one o’clock.

  “Since you two are making such great progress today, I guess we’ve got time for me to tell you this story–”

  “Oh, we’ve got time,” Sarah interrupted with an excited look on her face. She leaned towards Ronnie and whispered, “It’s one of my favorite stories.”

  Ronnie nodded his head, wondering why she was getting so excited to hear the story Mr. Keenan was about to tell them.

  “Well,” Mr. Keenan began in his deep, booming voice, “this story takes place in 1911, but it really goes all the way back to 1845, the year the Great Famine hit Ireland, or as it’s more popularly known as, the Irish Potato Famine. It caused a lot of people to die from starvation, but even more people died from disease. Some of the people left Ireland at this time, especially the younger ones, and came over to America. They’d start new lives and then send money back to their families so they could also come over to America and escape the Great Famine. Well, my ancestor, William Keenan, was one of them. He ended up settling in Smith’s Grove, although back then it wasn’t much more than a small community of farmers.”

  Mr. Keenan paused a minute and scooted his chair closer. As he did so, Ronnie thought how the old man could sure spin a yarn, a phrase he’d often heard his grandmother use when his grandfather would tell a long-winded story.

  “Now, two generations later, William’s grandson, Charles, who I just happen to be named after, was a farmer just like his father. The Irish roots of his family ran deep, and every season he would celebrate the harvesting of the crops on Samhain night, just like his Irish ancestors had always done and just like his grandfather had done since crossing the Atlantic. Charles would throw a celebration party, inviting all of the local farmers and neighbors. Back in 1911, he had a lot to celebrate. He was one of the most successful farmers, and he’d also married a local girl by the name of Malinda Marcum, who everyone in Smith’s Grove said was the most beautiful girl for miles around.”

  Mr. Keenan paused again and lowered his usually booming voice to a low whisper. It reminded Ronnie of kids telling ghost stories around a campfire.

  “Now, this is what I heard happened on that Halloween night back in 1911, the year after he got married…”

  * * *

  As Charles Keenan stared down at his pregnant wife lying on the ground, he knew there was only one way he could exact revenge on Thomas Levi.

  Malinda’s ankle-length dress was torn up to her thigh and her blouse draped off her right shoulder almost revealing her breast. Behind the long tresses of auburn hair cascading around her face, Charles could still see tears falling from her green eyes as she whimpered helplessly.

  Her green eyes had first attracted him to her. He’d never seen the hills of Ireland, so often recounted in stories by his grandfather. Charles imagined those rolling hills would be just as beautiful as Malinda’s green eyes.

  Charles reached forward with his hand and gently brushed Malinda’s hair back from her face. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he knew it was in vain. Only time would heal her wounds. He placed his hand on her swollen stomach and felt the child inside move. They exchanged a smile of relief.

  “The child still lives,” he said in a gentle voice. “All will be well.”

  Malinda nodded her head in agreement.

  Charles turned towards the open doors of the barn. He could still hear his neighbors and friends outside celebrating the harvest, the event which had been the cause of this night’s horrible events.

  This past season, Charles’ harvest had been more productive than in the past five years he’d been a farmer. Like his father and grandfather before him, he felt a special connection to the land, like a husband does with his wife. He secretly attributed the past year’s success to falling in love with Malinda and marrying her; and now, they were expecting their first child together.

  When it came time to throw the celebration party on Samhain night, the tradition which he’d inherited from his grandfather, Charles decided to throw the biggest one the residents of Smith’s Grove had ever attended. He not only wanted to commemorate the most successful crop he’d had since picking up the plow, but he especially wanted to celebrate his and Malinda’s love and the approaching arrival of their first child.

  Most of the farmers and neighbors were happy for Charles and joined in the huge celebration.

  But some were jealous, including one particular man whose jealousy of Charles Keenan consumed him: Thomas Levi.

  He wasn’t jealous because of Charles’ most productive season yet. Charles doubted that even bothered Thomas since he was the laziest farmer in Smith’s Grove, growing only what he needed to survive. No, Thomas was jealous of Charles because he’d wanted to marry Malinda. But she’d never returned those feelings, rejecting his offers because she was able to see deep down into the dark heart of Thomas and discern what type of man he truly was.

  Charles cursed himself as he thought back on the night’s events. He should’ve realized Thomas was up to something. While everyone else was drinking and having a good time, the eyes of Thomas had followed Malinda as she walked around.

  And his eyes had lingered on her too excessively during the course of the night.

  Charles had seen the way Thomas was acting towards Malinda, but he’d doubted the man was crazy or foolish enough to do something with everyone present.

  He’d been wrong.

  He focused his attention back on his wife. Her crying had subsided to a gentle sobbing.

  “Can you sit up?”

  Malinda nodded her head and slowly rose up to a sitting position. She looked down at her torn clothes and her hands flew instinctively to her stomach, protecting the unborn child inside her womb.

  “Where is he?” Malinda hissed.

  Charles could see the hate burning in his wife’s eyes.

  He was positive his eyes mirrored the same rage.

  “I don’t know. When I came in and found him trying to…” Charles shook his head and closed his eyes, unable to bring himself to say the word out loud. “He took off running when he saw me,” he finally continued. “I don’t know where he went. I couldn’t leave you. I had to make sure you were alright before even thinking about dealing with him.” He paused and looked deeply into Malinda’s eyes. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “I’m alright,” Malinda quickly said, giving her husband a reassuring smile.

  Taking his wife at her word, Charles decided if he was going to act, he needed to do it now before he changed his mind. “Wait here a moment.”

&nb
sp; He stood up and hurried over to the entrance of the barn. He scanned the faces outside for a couple of minutes (people still unaware of what had happened less than one hundred feet away from them) until he spotted Clarinda Marcum, Malinda’s younger sister.

  He casually made his way through the crowd so as not to draw attention to himself. When he reached Clarinda, he gently placed his hand on her arm and pulled her towards him.

  “I need you to come with me,” he whispered to her, making sure no one overheard him. “I need you to stay with Malinda.”

  Clarinda shot Charles a worried look, but he calmed her with a reassuring nod of his head. He turned and led her back towards the barn. Once inside, they found Malinda still sitting on the ground with her hands protectively around her stomach. As soon as Clarinda saw Malinda’s tear-streaked face, she ran and fell down to her knees beside her sister, asking her what had happened.

  Charles knew he needed to hurry. He didn’t have time for explanations if he was going to do something about Thomas. “Clarinda, stay here with her. I’ll be back shortly.”

  He stared into Malinda’s green eyes for a moment longer, searching for something although he wasn’t sure what it was.

  Maybe it was assurance she was alright, or maybe it was approval for what he was about to do.

  But mostly, he took in the face of the woman he loved and would protect at any cost.

  As if reading his mind, Malinda smiled gently at him. “Go, my love,” she said.

  Charles returned the smile before turning to go find Thomas Levi.

  As a small boy, Charles’ grandfather had told him about the legend of Old Notch-foot. He wasn’t sure if all Irish families knew about the legend, but his family did. Although he’d never questioned the existence of Old Notch-foot, he now doubted whether calling on him to exact his revenge on Thomas would be successful or not. Charles’ family was no longer in Ireland and they hadn’t been for more than fifty years, ever since his grandfather had left when he was just a teenager. He had no way of knowing whether the power of Old Notch-foot could reach across the Atlantic Ocean to Smith’s Grove.