Carole Marsh Quote

The others climbed into the back of the truck with the pitchforks and the pinestraw, leaving Stacy all alone in the front with the man. She sat as close to the door as she could and held the handle tight in case she had to jump out or something. Suspiciously, she looked at the big paper bag on the seat between them.The man, still frowning, put the truck into gear. With a jolt, they started off. Before they had gone very far he slammed on the brakes, throwing them all forward.He doesn’t even have seatbelts, Stacy thought. But how can you think of dumb things like that when you’re about to die?Sorry, he said gruffly. I forgot. I’ve got to make one stop before we go to the dairy barns.Throwing the truck into reverse, he backed up a few yards to a narrow road that led into the woods. A small sign that read Private! Closed to the Public was posted by the side of the road. Oh dear, Stacy thought, we’re doomed now. How many times did Mom ever tell me never to get into a car with a stranger? And now I’ve gone and done that and here we are heading down an off-limits road into the woods. She had a cold chill, and this time it wasn’t from her wet clothes.They bounced down the rutted road. In the mirror outside her window, she could see the kids hanging on to the side of the truck for dear life.The arms of the low pines brushed the roof of the truck with a skeletal scraping down. At least they came to an opening. Before her Stacy could see rows and rows of vines. Vineyards, she whispered to herself.Suddenly, the man slammed on his brakes. The truck jarred to a stop. Without a word he threw open the door and climbed out. Now we’re in for it, thought Stacy. I just know he’s coming around this side to get me.She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Over the idling hum of the motor she could hear him walking. Then there was a squeal from the kids in the back of the truck. Oh, my goodness, she thought, squinching her eyes tighter and tighter until they hurt. What is he doing to them?In a moment he slung the door of the truck open. In spite of herself she turned and looked at him. He had a big grin on his face. And his shirt was covered with a big purple stain. Blood!Your shirt, she stuttered, pointing a quivery finger toward him.He laughed. Juice, he said. Juice from the grapes.Stacy sniffed. Sure enough it did smell like grape juice. She got up the nerve to look in the rearview mirror. The kid’s heads bobbed in the back.Slowly she ungripped her hand from the door handle. The man waved an arm towards the vineyards. We grow grapes for wine here. It’s just another way to use the land like Mr. Vanderbilt thought you should.Stacy just stared at his shirt again and said, Oh.