Chapter 14

fourteen

ELLA

I might’ve underestimated the level of exhaustion I’d feel after such a strenuous twenty-four hours. Usually, I take a full day or two to decompress after a wedding. Long, steaming baths with some bath salts and a good book, or hours wasted binge-watching a show I’m way behind on.

I snuck in about an hour of sleep on the plane, but it wasn’t nearly enough, evident by the way my muscles are screaming from stiffness and overuse. The lack of sleep is ratcheting up my anxiety and emotions, which isn’t helpful to my current situation either. I haven’t really had time to process how I feel about coming back here.

Well, coming home while still under Charlotte’s thumb.

Racing thoughts kept me awake on the plane until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. Now that I’ve had more time to think about the weight of this assignment, the unease inside is only getting stronger.

She handed me an oversized lemon in the wee hours of this morning.

I can still make lemonade if I try. There are plenty of positives, so I try to list them out: I can see Gaby whenever I want and it won’t be on a screen. Reconnecting with the Jacksons. All of them—even the one that makes my insides flutter. Feeling a sense of belonging again. I’m getting to plan Holly Everheart’s wedding.

That last bullet point is my heaping piles of sugar. Holly is one of the few artists I know of that stays pretty humble to her roots. In my wedding planner heart, I know she will probably be the least complicated part of this whole process.

The magic will claim that title.

Charlotte never believed in it, which is probably why she needed me. And she threw one last twist in my direction. It would’ve been too simple to just ask or offer. Despite her disbelief or hatred of the town, she knows I’ll do my best for one reason alone.

My love for an Enchanted Hollow love story. Well, any love story, really.

Once my parents dressed up like Wesley and Buttercup for Halloween. As if I didn’t already hold my romantic notions concerning them to the highest standard. It’s the first example that really struck me as an example of true love.

Love that transcends time and pirates and being almost dead.

It’s the most powerful form of magic that exists.

That’s why I haven’t been able to figure out how this wedding came across Charlotte’s desk to begin with. Gilded Vows doesn’t fit what I saw laid out in the client folder. Then, factor in that Holly and Cade are likely products of the town magic. It’s not a wedding Charlotte would usually consider, no matter the pay day.

She’s got more money than she knows what to do with, so she can afford to say no.

There’s something here, but I can’t quite grasp it in my exhausted state. I reach down to take another sip of my gas station coffee and whimper when nothing escapes.

“Are you okay?” Gaby asks.

I’d almost forgotten I was on the phone with her.

“Out of coffee.”

“I wish you’d have let me come get you,” she replies. A loud slam sounds in my ear and I jolt.

“What was that?”

“Stack of library books. You still awake?” She sounds like someone who has an endless supply of caffeine, and I’m incredibly jealous.

“I’m not sure when, but I’m going to get you back,” I warn.

“I’m terrified. You don’t have any plans today, right? I’ll swing by the bed-and-breakfast after work.”

“Just running by the farm to get my bearings,” I reply with a yawn.

There’s a long pause where the only noise is my wheels on the pavement.

“You’re going by the farm? Today?” Gaby’s voice is tight and slightly high-pitched.

“It’s a pretty tight timeline. There’s a lot to coordinate, and I need to see how the farm is set-up. I need to figure out where we could have the ceremony. There’s probably a spot where we can have a small reception…”

These are all details Holly talked about with Charlotte, but I need to visualize where all this could happen. It’s been too long since I’ve been to an Autumn Enchantment event, and I don’t remember where things go. Or what they’ve added.

I don’t want to disrupt what makes the event so magical while still honoring Holly and Cade’s love story.

Silence again hangs heavy in the air, and I’m too tired to decipher if there’s something she’s not telling me or if I’ve just hit a place with no reception.

“Gabs, did I lose you?”

“Sorry, I’m here. When are you going by?”

Oh, there’s definitely something she’s not telling me.

I glance at the GPS that’s counting down the miles and minutes. “I’m about twenty minutes away. Why?”

Again, she’s quiet as a mouse. And Gabrielle Jackson is not quiet.

I breathe in for five counts and out for five counts.

“Gaby. Do they know I’m coming?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “I might’ve forgotten to mention it.”

Normally I’d handle those details, but with the tight turnaround, I asked Gaby to let them know I’d swing by. She had one job.

I tighten my hands on the steering wheel and sigh. “So Luke doesn’t know I’m coming?”

Perfect.

I almost give into temptation to abandon my plans and change my destination to the bed-and-breakfast. Wrapping myself in blankets and sleeping the rest of the day sounds like a more enjoyable plan than what might await me at Ever After Farms. Seeing the rest of the family doesn’t faze me at all; it’s Luke I’m worried about.

This won’t just interrupt life as he knows it on the farm; it’s going to shove romance and magic in his face. He’s never been overly keen on either.

“Should I wait to go?” I ask.

“You said Charlotte expects you to check-in pretty fast, so I’m sure it will be fine. You’re fantastic at dealing with people.”

Compliments are not the way to win me over today.

My best friend, the book nerd, is going to get payback. I’m going to hide all her books when I get my hands on them. Maybe even move a couple of bookmarks, so she has to search for her place again.

That’ll teach her.

“I don’t like the way you’re talking about your brother here,” I reply.

“He might be a little grumpy at first, but he’ll get over it. Look at that—my planning period is over! See you tonight. I’ll bring fresh kettle corn and a jug of apple cider.”

The promise of farm food only improves my mood by a margin.

Luke has always been a little cynical, but I can’t say that I’d call him grumpy. At least not with me. He wasn’t loose with his smiles, but when he offered one, you knew they were the real deal. Ones I’d tuck away for moments I needed them most.

Do not think about his smiles.

From what Gaby has told me, the Jacksons practically adopted Holly as one of their own. That makes her honorary family. And Luke loves his family; no matter what kind they are.

If he wants to be difficult, I’ll go above to his head to his mother. With great power comes great responsibility, and I’m not afraid to play that card.

There’s a pang of regret at the way I left her with everything she did for me. Her home was always boisterous and bustling with activity. They had a massive wooden table behind their farmhouse where she hosted many a dinner; the table busting with food and company. I know if she knew the whole truth—which I owe her someday—she will understand. Home is a place worth protecting.

I really hope she smothers me with her hugs and fattens me up with cookies.

Holly doesn’t need me wallowing in these feelings, though. She needs me to take as much care of her love story as I would with my own.

But that’s a whole other problem: I didn’t.

I didn’t get to send Patch a letter explaining that I had to leave. Luke was the only one who got anything, and it was a hastily scrawled message that left very little explanation. There was an abrupt ending to any semblance of a love story for me.

As I get closer and closer to the town’s boundary line, clumsy butterflies swim in my belly. It’s unshakeable, like the nervousness on Christmas Eve, waiting to see what’s waiting on Christmas morning. But there’s a thread of something else, something urgently questioning why I’m really here.

I pass by the giant sign on the outskirts of town, welcoming me to Enchanted Hollow. The familiar feel of magic skirts along my skin, squashing the unease like a flyswatter. I suppose it’s different for everyone, but for me, it’s the coziness of a warm blanket. A soothing balm on the senses. It took a while to adjust to the coldness of ‘normal’ life when we moved.

Enchanted Hollow sits nestled in a valley on the outskirts of Mirror Lake. It looks a little like someone hit copy and paste on an idyllic small town postcard, with old buildings forming a square around the town courtyard. I slow down so the unevenness of the cobblestone roads is a little less jarring, creeping past the fountain where Dean once filled it with bubbles.

Pumpkins already dot the shop steps, coupled with accents of corn stalks and hay bales. There’s visible pops of fall everywhere: giant pots of mums, trees shifting from green to gold and amber, and decor even wrapped around lamp posts. I wasn’t expecting to feel like the town is welcoming me home, like it missed me as much as I missed it.

Like an old home movie, memories of trick-or-treating down this very road, bouncing from business to business with Gaby and her siblings, roll out of my mind. Luke always fussed at us to slow down, with Dean on our heels, both sets of our parents following close behind. Our adventures would always end at their family farm, stuffing ourselves silly with fall treats.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me again that I haven’t eaten since the protein bar stuffed in my carry on. I shake off the cloak of memories to scan local eateries as I pass, tucking away locations for later. Cheery signs welcome customers, seasonal specials and murals dotting windows.

One catches my eye: Once Upon a Brew. When I worked there in high school, the owner Linda had a jukebox in the corner that played Elvis if you shimmied the right side just right. There’s a table that used to sit by one of the picture windows that has S+P carved into one leg on the inside, because I was giddy after a letter I got from Patch. No one knows who those people are, but it’s a warm memory.

When I’m done with my meeting with Luke, I’ll come back here and get a pumpkin spice latte to sip while I set up my room. If nothing else, it’s a place to tuck myself away and work. And it’ll steel me against my first check-in with Charlotte.

An armor of fall flavored spices. There might be a market for that.

Buildings give way to fields of cornstalks, periodically interrupted by wide open fields with giant hay bales dotting them like a giant checkerboard. It’s such a wildly different landscape than what I typically see in the city. Knots nestled deep in my chest loosen, familiarity settling in as I get further outside the town.

I almost turn into my old driveway, my muscle memory taking over like I never left. But the last thing I need to do before I meet with Luke—or any other Jackson—is further immerse myself in nostalgia. My emotions are walking a fine line as it stands.

By the time I get the extra mile down the road, I’ve mentally prepped myself for this meeting. I’m running through a list in my mind of the most basic things I need to know today . I’m no stranger to working with vendors, but I’ve never executed an event essentially inside another event.

I’ve always thought that Ever After Farms holds its own kind of magic. As I pass beneath the giant wooden arch that guards the entrance, I’m greeted with another sense of welcoming. A quiet whisper of welcome home that shivers along my skin.

I creep along, reacquainting myself with the designs carved into the thick poles and smiling at the sunflowers carefully installed to usher in the fall at the farm. Pumpkins pile at the base of each pole, and lanterns hang from brackets at the top. As I continue down the winding dirt road, painted hay bales guide me to a parking lot: pumpkins, sunflowers, candy corn. I’m curious if Violet painted them.

Since I’m here on business, I turn into the row closest to the farm entrance. The farmhouse isn’t super close to where I’m parked, but I remember how to get there. I check my makeup in my visor mirror. It’s not completely covering the bags under my eyes, but it’s helping.

Nerves buzz under my skin, creating an odd sensation in my fingers. It’s the first time I’ve seen Luke in years, any of the Jacksons other than Gaby, and my emotions are all over the place.

“You’re a professional. Just be yourself,” I say to my reflection. “Be brave and smile.”

And be kind, my mother’s voice reminds me. Not that I would be anything else, but kindness never hurt anyone.

As soon as my feet hit the dirt, I contemplate digging through my bags to find a suitable pair of shoes for walking the farm. I’m a pushover for a gorgeous pair of shoes, but they’re definitely not optimal for lots of walking. Another example of how out of sorts I feel.

I make it all the way to the other side of the rope that marks the parking lot, and step on the edge of a small pit in the dirt. My ankle wobbles and thanks to my poor choice in footwear, I’m going to fall flat on my face.

But instead of the brunt force of hard ground, I’m met with a pair of strong arms.

“Whoa there.” He huffs out a breath as he helps me right myself. “Those shoes are a little fancy for a day on the farm.”

“I thought about changing them, and obviously I should follow that instinct next time. Thank you for saving me from a potentially embarrassing incident,” I say, brushing off my dress and avoiding eye contact until the flush in my cheeks subsides.

His shadow stretches across the ground, and by the looks of it, he’s tall. It could be any of the Jackson brothers, or it could be a farmhand I’ve never even met. Either way, I’m a little horrified that my first impression showcases my inability to walk in wedge sandals.

“No harm, no foul.” He chuckles, and the sound awakens butterflies in my belly that have laid dormant for years .

It can’t be.

I gather the courage to lift my head and look this man in the eyes. Two familiar pools of blue that sparkle like the sapphire blue of my stepmother’s pool in the heat of summer.

“I’m looking for Luke Jackson.” Even though I’m almost certain that’s who I’m speaking to, I still squint at him before shielding my eyes from the midday sun.

He pulls down his handkerchief and gives me a half grin no amount of research could’ve prepared me for. His eyes crinkle at the corners and my heart stumbles around in my chest as he tips his cowboy hat to me.

“You found him. ”

There’s no way this is Luke. My Luke.

No, no. Not technically. No matter how many times teenaged me fantasized about what it would be like to be whisked away by him, he was never mine . But I’ve known him so long, it’s hard not to feel like he belongs to me a little bit.

The man before me belongs on the cover of Cowboy GQ, all hard lines and tanned skin. His hair curls around the edges of his cowboy hat, wild and unruly in the surprising heat wave.

Just as I start to re-introduce myself, his eyes widen and his smile broadens to its full potential, wattage so bright it could power the entire farm.

“Ella? Is that you?”

“In the flesh,” I gesture awkwardly to myself like Vanna White showcasing a letter on Wheel of Fortune. I can picture Laila standing nearby with a phone, capturing every moment of my humiliation. And then later replaying it back in our room while laughing at how awkward I am. It’s horrifying, but I trudge ahead. “It’s been a while.”

“How long? Ten years?”

“Something like that.”

It’s actually been twelve years. Almost to the day. But I don’t want to come across like someone who’s kept count of how long I’ve worked to get back.

Now that I’m here, curiosity is bubbling to the surface faster than I can try to shove the lid back on tight. I want to ignore the itinerary I’m supposed to follow and instead walk the fields with him. He could show me everything they’ve added and fill me in on everything I’ve missed.

Being near Luke is soothing, like when my mother used to stroke my hair to help me fall asleep. Despite our time apart, he’s home.

Or at least he represents what I wish it could be.

Just get through this wedding .

“You know better than to wear shoes like that on a farm. Come on now.” There’s no scolding to his words, just an easy tease.

“I sure do. Next time I’ll wear boots.” Or tennis shoes. Or anything else that will keep me upright and not stumbling into really strong arms again.

“What brings you out here?” He crosses his arms casually, his tan forearms flexed and exposed. I can’t figure out when I became such an arm person, but it’s hard to tear my eyes away.

“Marriage.” I internally facepalm myself. “Weddings. I’m here to help plan Holly and Cade’s wedding.”

A flash of something passes over his face, some of the joy leaving his expression. Even though his smile still appears friendly, everything about him is more guarded. He’s stiffer, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he considers me.

“Well, I guess you wasted a trip here.”

My cheeks heat. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t need to help because it’s not happening.”