Molly Ravenhardt had recruited me to help her collect corn stalks for the high school art department’s annual Halloween “Witch Walk” since I was sixteen, thus able to drive.

I pulled the Impala out of our driveway and across the street to the Ravenhardts.  Molly stepped out of the door wearing a red jacket and a black beret.

“I didn’t know I was picking up a little French girl today,” I said as she climbed into the car.

“En Francais!” replied Molly.  She was just a little too into the French language class we shared in high school.

I put on a bad French accent and mangled the language in a way that would have caused the Frenchmen worldwide to drop their cigarettes and declare “Zut, alors!” had they heard me.

“Je ne pas know j’est peeking up ze petite francais fille, uh, today.”

Molly slapped me on the shoulder.

“Lucius!”

“Ah, oui! Tu est le Marquis de Sade!”

“C’est vrai! Je suis le Marquis de Sade, mais tu l’aime!” she declared as she slapped me on the shoulder again.

“C’est vrai! C’est vrai!”

Molly giggled and pulled the car door shut. I backed out of the driveway and headed out toward Beaver township. Molly’s cousins the Carvers had a farm out there and grew a small crop of indian corn for fall decorative purposes.

The golden autumn sun hung low in the sky over the cornfield, a slight breeze whistled through the dried stalks. The sharp musty smell of burning leaves permeated the air.

“Try to find the ones that still have ears of corn on them,” said Molly.

“How about I try to find the ones that still have ears of corn on them, Molly?”

“Hey now that’s a great idea Lucius, you’re so clever! Here’s one. Do you have the knife?”

I stealthily crept down a few rows over from Molly and did not answer.

“Lucius?”

She turned around quickly looking for me.

“Lucius, where’d you go you bugger?”

She started walking back down the row of corn peeking between the stalks trying to find me. I picked up a rock and threw it over to her right to distract her.

“I hear you sneaking around over there.”

She pushed through the stalks in that direction as I crept up behind her and grabbed her waist.

Startled, she swung around and playfully hit me on the shoulder.

“Jerk,” she said but didn’t mean it.

“Gotcha,” I said with my hands still on her waist.

“Gotcha,” she said with a flirtatious lilt.

I stood mesmerized staring into her eyes and occasionally glancing down at her lips. She looked at me with big puppy-dog eyes.

I slowly leaned forward, bringing my head closer to hers, nuzzling at first before our lips finally locked.

Electricity coursed through my body. I was kissing the beautiful Molly Ravenhardt and she was kissing me! I don’t know how long we stood there in each others arms as all time had ceased.

A sudden crash through the cornstalks broke the spell. A twelve point buck ran towards us nearly running us down before darting off deeper into the cornfield.

Crack! The report of a rifle sounded not more than fifty feet away from where we stood. Molly collapsed onto the ground never knowing what hit her.

“Molly!” I screamed as I knelt beside her lifting her head.

A man in hunter’s garb fumbled through the cornstalks and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Oh, Jesus,” he said.