Donny wiped the sweat from his brow, and climbed back on his International Harvester Farmhall. Except for a dinged nose, the tractor was in prime condition.
So why's it acting up?
He lifted the harrow and backed it up. Reverse wasn't a problem.
Something must be wrong with the gear box.
Why did the tractor die in this spot every time he approached it?
Maybe it's time to trade it in.
He envisioned the Mahindra 5010 he'd seen in town.
But sixteen grand's outside my price range.
He backed up further, cranked the steering and shifted into first. The tractor leaped forward as Donny eased past the spot in the field.
The field had laid fallow since he'd bought the farm two years ago. But this year, he decided to plant corn in that field.
At thirty two, he was rebuilding his life. His wife had died from cancer three years earlier. Filled with grief and fed up with corporate life in a fluorescent, six by six cubicle, he left. He'd had a hankering to be a farmer, get his hands in the dirt, and be his own boss.
He walked into the small town cafe as he did three nights a week, and slid into a booth. Rosalie, who waited tables plopped a Molten Light in front of him.
“What's your pleasure?” Her smile warmed his heart.
“Meatloaf, mashed, and salad.”
She tipped her head “What's eatin' you?”
“Nothing. Why?” He lifted his beer.
“Looks like you ran a harrow over your forehead.”
“Got a puzzle to work out.” He sipped his beer.
She had taken his supper orders for two years. He wasn't interested in anything more. Or so he thought.
“Like to hear about it.” She eased out of the booth, and headed for the kitchen. He watched her go.
After she brought his order, she hurried to wait on a family behind him. His thoughts returned to the tractor problem.
When she returned to bus the table. The deep vee of her shirt gaped. “Want a slice of apple pie?”
He sat for a moment preoccupied with the sight-seeing tour.
“Sure.” He grinned.
A minute later, she set down a cup of coffee and pie in front of him. “Coffee's on the house.”
“Thanks”
“So what's the puzzle?” She watched him take a mouthful of pie. “Puzzles are my specialty.”
“Really?” He noticed the color of her eyes. Hazel.
“My tractor stalls out. I'm thinking it's the gear box.”
She pursed her lips and shrugged slightly. “What if it's not your tractor.”
“You mean it's me.” He sipped the coffee. She fixed it just the way he liked.
“Does it stall at the same spot?”
He swallowed. How did she guess? “Pretty much.”
“Take me there.”
He wouldn't meet her eyes. “Don't know about that.”
“Fine. See you Wednesday.” She pushed out of the booth, and left.
All the way home he thought about that spot in the field. It was nearly dark. On a whim he turned on the gravel road that ran parallel to his cornfield. Parking at the edge of the road, he got out, his boots smashing clods of dirt as he crossed the freshly harrowed ground. And that's when he heard it. He stopped. At first it sounded like some wild animal. But then he realized it was a woman's voice. Gut-wrenching sobs.
“What the...” Donny stepped backward, and then in the twilight he saw her. A vague image. A woman wearing a long black dress, pacing in the exact spot where his tractor had stalled. She didn't seem to notice him.
He turned, hurried back to his truck, and drove home. He crawled into bed, but all night long, the vision tormented him. He awoke tired and uneasy.
Ghosts haunt buildings, not fields.
He finished harrowing the field, circumventing the spot where his tractor had stalled. He ate lunch, mended a fence, and slumped into a hammock when he heard gravel crunching. A Toyota Corolla slowed to a stop. Donny nearly flipped out of the hammock when he realized who it was.
“Hey.” He stood up and walked toward her. “What're you doing here?”
“Well that's not a very nice way to greet a visitor.” Rosalie frowned.
“Sorry. You surprised me.”
She tipped her head. “In a good way, I hope.”
He nodded to her.
“I really wanted to see that place in the field. To see if there is some kind of paranormal activity there.”
“Why?”
“Because, I'm a Sentient.”
“A what?”
“I'm perceptive to the metaphysical world.”
“You're a ghost buster?” Donny leaned away from her and grinned.”
“Take me there, Okay?”
They hiked through a pasture across the dirt to the spot where he'd seen the ghost the night before.
He pointed to a barren spot. “Here.”
Rosalie stopped. She closed her eyes as though she were listening for something.
“We'll wait.” She motioned to the edge of the field and a stately elm.
“Okay. We'll wait.”
The sun inched westward as they sat in the shade of the elm tree. They talked about her divorce, his wife's death, and their futures. The crickets and frogs began their nocturnal vibrations, and the moon rose overhead before Rosalie walked to the edge of the field. Donny followed her.
“Do you feel it? The coldness?” She rubbed her arms.
A sickly sweet smell smothered the fresh air.
Donny shivered. “What's making that smell?”
She pointed to the elm.“Wait for me by the tree. Okay?”
Donny walked back, and slumped against it. He watched.
For a long time, Rosalee stood with her eyes closed. Then she walked around the area, as though she were speaking to someone. Donny heard his stomach grumble. They hadn't eaten. The darkness deepened. Finally, Rosalie joined him.
“It'll be okay now. She's gone.”
“You mean my tractor will work here?”
She nodded.
“Let's go get a pizza. I'm starved.” He said.
At the house, she climbed into his truck, and Donny cranked the engine and spit gravel as the pickup sped toward town.
“Her name is Charlotte,” Rosalie said.
“Who?”
“The ghost. She was engaged to be married and...”
“Did the ghost tell you that?”
“Yes. It was early spring. Her fiance walked five miles to see her. But a sudden ice storm blew over the Mississippi bluffs. The young man froze to death.”
“Let me guess. In my cornfield. Right?” He pulled into a parking spot at the restaurant, and shut off the motor.
“That was horrible enough. But listen to this? A week later, the young woman laid herself down on the spot where her fiance died, and killed herself with her father's pistol.”
“And now she grieves there.” Rosalie opened the door and crawled out. “A weeping ghost.”
Donny walked around the car to Rosalie.
Maybe it was time to get back to living. Fully.
He reached out and took her hand.
Sunday, August 21, 2016 at 10:29AM 
think, encouraged your heart, or entertained and made you laugh?
