Chapter 27

twenty-seven

LUKE

The farm is crawling with people. It’s typical for this time of year, but with it being the seventy-fifth anniversary of the first Autumn Enchantment, it’s packed.

It started as such a simple event: apples, pumpkins, a few fresh foods made from the harvest. Back then, folks would tie apples to a tree branch or clothesline. A group would aim to be the first to catch an apple between their teeth — or be the first to retrieve an apple from a container — so they’d be the first to marry. That’s how the matchmaking rumors began.

Of course, somewhere along the way, new traditions began. Like bumping into someone in the corn maze and exiting together. Or dancing with someone under the harvest moon. Voila! You’re meant to be. Until this morning, I’d doubted our farm held any sort of matchmaking magic.

Now, I’m not so sure.

Regardless of what I do or don’t believe, our fall event has blown up to where we have to rope off lines for some of the more popular stations and rides. People have come up to me all morning letting me know how excited they are that we’re open for the season and they can’t wait to finally meet the one .

Dean perches in the tractor seat that pulls the barrel train around the dirt track he shaped, his hat pulled low over his eyes. I bet he’s already driven that same route thirty to forty times since we opened. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bruno is curled in his lap like a donut, snoozing away.

I’m taking inventory of the pumpkin painting station when a to-go coffee enters my line of sight. The scent is earthy and strong, something I desperately need this morning.

“It’s the farmhouse blend, with a splash of cream. One sugar.”

I reach to take the cup cradled in Ella’s hand, letting my fingers brush against hers. It’s a small thing, coffee. But knowing that Ella thought of me this morning and brought me a coffee feels like a lot more than that.

“How did you know my coffee order?” I yank out the stopper and take a deep drink of the hot liquid. There’s no stopping the throaty moan that escapes.

“Quinn?” She squints at me. Her expression is full of questions, the slightest scowl flickering across her mouth.

It looks a little like jealousy and I’m equally flattered and surprised to see her feelings so openly displayed. We take a few steps away from the table so we’re in a more open area.

“She owns the shop now. Linda retired and sold it to her for a nice price.” In case I’m misreading, I don’t want to outright confirm we’ve never been involved, but I hope she will read between the lines.

“Oh.” She nods, her relief visible as the rigidity in her posture disappears. “She makes an excellent cup of coffee. Thank you for mine this morning, by the way.”

“Returning the favor?” I ask, taking another long pull of coffee.

“It’s the least I can do after yesterday.”

She’s not wearing a dress today. She’s swapped for jeans and a graphic tee that says ‘Meet Me at the Pumpkin Patch’ on it. No impractical shoes, just boots. This is a version of Ella that feels more familiar.

“We’re not keeping tabs.”

“Maybe not. But you did a lot of heavy lifting for me yesterday. I’m grateful.”

“So am I.” I lift my almost empty cup in a mock ‘cheers’ gesture before I drink the rest. The tendrils of pressure at my temples loosen their grip.

“How did Lucy do last night?”

“She’ll probably crash later. Gaby doesn’t know how to tell her no, and they stayed up way past her bedtime watching movies.”

“That sounds fun,” she says, and I don’t miss the way her smile falters as she says the words.

“My sisters do a great job filling in that hole in her life.”

I don’t make a habit of talking about my ex-wife. Mostly because she expunged herself from our lives like we never existed to begin with. But this is Ella. Friend, girlfriend — fake girlfriend—this is something she should know.

“Is she — your, um — Lucy’s mom, not involved?” She swallows.

I shake my head. “She left and never looked back.”

Before I can react, Ella’s arms are around me, squeezing. Her cheek presses into my chest, and I’m wondering if it’s worth the fight to remind her of the rules we made last night. I don’t want to. It feels good to be comforted, especially when I didn’t know I needed to be. My arms find their way around her and I dip my head to rest on the top of hers.

“That’s terrible,” she finally says. “You deserve so much better.”

It’s one thing for my family to tell me this. Hearing the words from Ella leaves me feeling a little ragged. Like I’ve been holding my breath and suddenly I can breathe fresh air again.

Holly picks this exact moment to find us.

“Am I interrupting something?” Her grin is a mile wide.

“Just saying good morning,” Ella says, pulling away and smoothing her hair where it crumpled against my body.

The blast of cool air in her absence is unwelcome, for more than one reason.

“I was thinking. Could we just do the ceremony at the pond?”

It’s a quiet space, away from the bulk of the festival. We keep activities away from that area for obvious reasons, so they’d have plenty of privacy.

“I don’t see why not,” I say.

“What about the reception?” Ella asks.

Holly shrugs. “The food tent?”

“Come on. You deserve something better than picnic tables.”

She studies me, the hint of a smile on her lips. “You’ll get there.”

“Get where?”

“To where the place matters a lot less than you think it does. I’d marry Cade on the hayride. Or in the middle of your sunflower field. I just want to start our life together.”

Ella blows her cheeks out, holds the air for a long moment, then swallows the air. “This is supposed to be way more complicated.”

“Why?” Holly’s brows draw together and she brushes her dark hair over her shoulder. “There’s no one I want to impress. My privacy is almost non-existent at this point, which is why I want to keep this small. Cade has a few people he wants to come, but other than that—my family is all here. ”

Hearing her call us her family gives me a warm feeling inside, like the first sip of hot chocolate during a cold snap. It’s a pleasant reminder that timeframes mean nothing when you find the people you belong with. Family isn’t only formed by blood.

“I… don’t know. I guess I’m just used to the chaos of huge weddings.”

“Lucky for you, that’s not my thing. I sent you an email for my Pinterest board, like you asked. And then another with attachments of things I ordered for decorations.”

Ella rubs her forehead and closes her eyes. “What do you need me here for?”

“The fun stuff, silly.”

“Which is?”

“The food. The cake. Dresses.” She spins in a circle like I’ve seen Lucy do countless times when she’s playing dress up.

“That is the fun stuff,” Ella murmurs.

Feeling the urge to give her a bolster of support, I lay a hand on the small of her back. Some of the tension immediately releases as she sighs. Her eyes flick up to mine before returning to Holly.

“I know Midnight in the Hollow is tonight, so we’ll just work our way through that list next week.” Holly beams.

“Dad!”

I drop my hand at the sound of my daughter’s voice.

Lucy has something cradled in her arms, and I can only hope it’s not another stray cat or puppy. Bruno is enough. He’s sweet as can be, a furry little piece of velcro to my animal loving daughter. But he’s just as stubborn as our goats.

It’s a good thing we own a lot of land, because she collects animals like trading cards. More often than not, she’s not even looking for them. They just find her like they know she will make sure they’re loved.

Gaby trails behind her, attempting to keep up with my daughter’s pace in her princess regalia. I heave out a breath. Less likely that it’s an animal then.

As she gets closer, the item in question looks a lot like a giant wad of plastic. Odd.

“What is that?”

“It’s our time capsule,” Gaby announces. “Ella, do you remember when we put this in the ground?”

Ella finger’s touch her lips. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but they’re coated in a glossy sheen of maroon.

“I forgot all about that.”

I’m always intrigued when I find out something new about people that I’ve lived with most of my life. For years, it felt like there weren’t clear boundary lines between us. We existed together all in that farmhouse, with people trampling all over each other and pressing into each other’s spaces without blinking. Sisters stealing clothes, brothers huddling in bedrooms playing video games when we weren’t working. It’s hard to believe any of us had secrets and kept them.

But then again, Ella feels like a secret I’ve managed to keep.

“Where was this?” I ask.

“Out in the west patch. There weren’t pumpkins then, but it’s a little crazy how we found it.”

“It’s like the ground was pushing it out, Dad!” Lucy drops to the ground in front of us and swats through the plastic as she looks for an opening.

“We tried to waterproof it.” Gaby shrugs.

That strange tingle from my conversation with Sebastian returns. Things don’t just unearth themselves.

“You said the west patch?”

“The one that looks like Jack Skellington made it.” She’s found the box now and is wrestling it from its imprisonment.

“Maybe the vines pushed it up.” Even as I say the words, I’m not entirely convinced. But I’m not mentally ready to accept the alternative. Magic has no place in our crops.

Ella and Gaby are crouched beside Lucy, their voices low and hushed as they point to various things on the box itself. It looks shockingly untouched by the elements, which seems unreasonable.

When they open the lid, the contents are just as clean. All three of them plunge their hands into the box, retrieving handfuls of items.

“These are photos of the two of you,” Lucy says, her eyes flicking between her aunt and the stranger crouched beside her.

“We were besties.” Gaby gently elbows Lucy.

“Were?”

“We still are,” Ella says, smiling. “I’ve just been away. I’m Ella.”

“You guys look so young here.” Lucy’s voice is awed, like she can’t believe any of us were young at one point.

“I’m still young,” Gaby says.

Curiosity gets the best of me, so I move to crouch beside Ella.

“Were these with your Polaroid?” I ask, hovering over her shoulder.

“Yeah, before Laila borrowed it.”

The photos in Ella’s hands showcase elements of the farm. Sunflowers with their faces tipped toward the sun. Jack-o’-lanterns grinning as fire dances in their bellies. Until I see one with faces.

“When was this?”

She doesn’t need to answer because as soon as I take the photo, the memory slams into me. We’d all been stacking hay bales for the festival, late into the afternoon. The movie in my brain is fuzzy as it plays out, but Ella somehow turned the exhausting work into a game that ended with all of us laughing and lighthearted.

That feeling is what I remember. She’d turned everyday labor into something fun.

She carried that camera with her everywhere, snapping photos of things I always found mundane. But those were the things Ella treasured most. Heaps of photos fill their time capsule, snapshots of our family through Ella’s eyes.

I hated her insistence on always taking photos. In fact, there’s probably a good chunk of photos where my hand is up or I’m turning away to escape her lens. Now I’m wishing I’d asked her to take more.

I didn’t know she’d disappear from our lives and those moments would cease to exist.

It could almost pass as a photo of just the two of us. Before the age of front-facing cameras, selfies weren’t exactly an easy feat. Ella’s arms weren’t long enough to include the three of us, so I’d taken the camera and reached around her. Her head comes to my shoulder even as I leaned forward so I didn’t tower over them. Gaby’s head angles toward Ella’s but because I used my right hand, the camera aims more toward Ella and I.

The sun is a starburst behind us, the setting rays darkening bits and pieces of our faces. It’s not a great photo. But I wish I had a copy for myself to put on my fridge or make my home screen.

“How did these hold up so well?” Ella murmurs. “The heat should have destroyed all of this.”

I’m wondering the same. Sure, the ground temperature doesn’t get as hot as the air, but it gets pretty warm here in the summer. We’re all probably overthinking.

“Ella, do you remember this?” Gaby snatches a paper out of the box and hurriedly unfolds it .

Holly has been quiet this whole time, likely staying out of the way as we reminisce. She quietly moves behind Gaby, a squeal of excitement following a beat later.

“This is adorable!”

“Give me that!” Ella reaches behind Lucy to snatch the paper from Gaby, but my sister only switches hands and holds it up higher.

“I will absolutely not be giving this to you.” She laughs, standing.

Ella groans. “You are breaking all kinds of best friend rules right now.”

“I think the statute of limitations on this is done.”

“I need context,” Holly says. “Kiss under the bleachers? You’ve never done that?”

“I wrote that in high school.” Ella’s cheeks are burning a deep red.

No one ever kissed Ella under the bleachers?

There’s an internal war going on with my body. I’m oddly happy to discover this, but equally confused because I don’t understand how that’s possible.

“Kissing is so gross,” Lucy says with an exaggerated gagging sound.

“Really glad to know you feel that way. Anything on that list more appropriate for little ears?” I ask. My heart threatened to give out at the thought of my daughter being old enough to even consider kissing, but I’m also a little nosy.

I’d like to know more secrets about Ella Taylor.

“Get lost in a maze?” Holly reads off.

This sounds suspiciously like a bucket list.

Lucy drops her bounty back into the box and shoves to her feet. “We can go do that right now! Can we Dad?”

“I think Holly and I still have work to do,” Ella begins. Her entire demeanor has changed in the last few minutes. I recognize this version of Ella, and I don’t like it. Her hands curl around her middle, shoulders slumped forward like she’s trying to hide.

“Holly loves a good maze. Want to get a head start?” Holly asks, extending a hand toward my daughter.

I give her a grateful smile and she winks.

“Winner gets funnel cake!” Lucy shouts as she and Holly head toward the maze.

“I am… not being a very supportive friend today.” Gaby folds up the list and hands it to Ella. “That was playing out differently in my head.”

Watching this exchange makes me realize how often Ella wore a mask around my family. She’s quietly hiding away her embarrassment and shifting into a version of herself that appears unfazed by my sister’s torment. The redness that stained her face is fading. She’s brushing the hair from her face; her posture is more rigid.

“It’s a silly list.” She plucks the paper from Gaby’s hand and tucks it into her pocket. “Why should I be embarrassed about something I wrote when I was a teenager?”

This is why I never pushed Ella. I didn’t realize it, but I must’ve subconsciously known how exhausted she was. I probably chalked it up to how hard she worked, but she was constantly doing a lot of mental work as well.

Inside, that woman is an explosive ball of sunshine, desperate to light up the world around her. I remember the afternoon Charlotte ripped her dress, when I was so angry that part of her felt muted. My chest is heavy with the realization that it wasn’t the first time. And she’d been holding back—at least a little—ever since.

I want to snatch that list away from Ella and memorize every item on that list. What else did she want to do but never got the chance?

“You shouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I had the right to read any of it out loud. I’m sorry—you get a free pass to reciprocate.”

A wicked smile flashes across Ella’s face. “You know I’ve got a lot on you.”

“I deserve it.” Gaby shrugs.

“This has been fun, but don’t you have another group of kids coming soon?”

“You’re such a killjoy, Luke.”

“Happy to be of service, Gabs.”

I watch her walk away before I turn back to Ella.

“This is such a perfect gig for her.” She sighs. “Teacher during the week, book loving princess on the weekends.”

“She lets it get to her head sometimes. She’s petitioned more than once for us to add a ladder to the library section of the cafe.”

“Would it be that hard to add?” Her green eyes lock onto mine.

“Not really, but it’s kind of fun to watch her make presentations on why we should do it.”

“Never grew out of that tormenting persona, did you?” She squints her eyes.

“Perks of being the oldest brother.”

Silence falls between us, and she shifts uneasily. A slight roll to her shoulders, a nibble on her bottom lip.

“Should we go find them?” she asks, gazing toward the sign at the opening of the maze.

I don’t care what kind of arrangement we have between us, or what Charlotte thinks she’s got on Ella. When she’s here or when we’re working together, I want her to feel safe.

She’s close enough that I could touch her if I wanted to, but I want to be closer so there’s no question she hears what I want to say. I close the couple of steps between us.

“Rule six.” I hook a thumb under her skin so she’s forced to look up at me. “No masks.”

Something flashes across her face. Fear, maybe?

I don’t want to be vulnerable, either. There are pieces of me I’ve never let anyone see. Standing here with the one woman I’ve ever felt comfortable enough to let my guard down with makes me want to try.

“I’m not trying to hide, Luke.”

“I don’t think you even realize you’re doing it,” I say. “You don’t have to hide from me. I know you. I see you. You’re surrounded by people who want you to succeed and shine.”

She lets out a shuddery breath.

“Let’s make lemonade, Ella.” A smile plays around her lips at the words, so I continue. “You’re here to plan the wedding of a lifetime, during your favorite season of the year. There’s no rules saying you can’t have fun doing it.”

All morning, Violet’s words have ping-ponged around in my brain. Maybe I’m afraid of asking questions because I won’t know what to do with the answers. I’m just as guilty of putting up a front to protect myself. We both probably have different reasons for doing it, but maybe it’s time we broke down those walls.

Together.

My mother taught me that the foundation of every relationship begins with trust. Once upon a time, Ella and I had that. I imagine it wouldn’t be hard to get to that point again. We’ve both had lives in the years between, but what if that was supposed to lead us to now?

What if?

It’s a question that’s plagued me for too long. There’s a sense of calm as we stand here together. From the moment she stepped back on this farm—hard to believe it was only yesterday—that cord connecting us snapped right back into place.

Deep down, I think I know exactly who Ella is.

I just need to prove it and borrow a little of her courage to embrace it.