Chapter 49

forty-nine

LUKE

Once, when Lucy was four, she woke me up in the dead of night by standing next to my bed and simply hovering. I’m not proud of the sound that exploded out of my lungs, but I’d be willing to bet most people would react the same way if they thought their kid was a little killer child out of a horror movie.

I haven’t watched one since.

When I collected my wits again, I went to pick her up and take her back to bed when I noticed the heat pouring from her body. Almost like there was a fire inside her trying to escape.

That’s the only time I’ve felt fear like I’ve felt today.

The lack of control despite doing everything I could to fix the situation.

We’re all gathered in the living room of the farmhouse, stuffed like sardines. There’s a fire in the fireplace thanks to the sudden onset of winter weather.

Everyone is talking over each other in a panic and I honestly can’t remember the last time it was this chaotic. At least not since the morning after Ella left, and I found her letter .

“What do we do about the crops?” I ask, raising my voice over the din. “If this drops below freezing and stays there, it’s all gone. Everything except what’s in the greenhouse.”

Violet sits on the couch across from me, fidgeting. Our eyes meet and I can tell she’s just as panicked as I am.

“There’s no need to panic.” Dad motions at us to settle.

Mom whacks him on the arm with the back of her hand and glares. “No. We’re not going to do that today.”

“ No ?” Sam repeats. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

The room is suddenly quiet, aside from the occasional pop from the wood in the fireplace.

“We owe you an explanation. We should’ve talked to you about this sooner.” She turns to Dad and softens her voice. “We should’ve talked to them sooner.”

“We thought it would be fine,” he replies, hooking an arm around her to hug close.

Mom and Dad aren’t exactly huge on public displays of affection, but they’ve never hidden it either. Something about the way they’re interacting right now has me uneasy.

“Just spit it out already,” Gran says. She’s propped in the armchair closest to the fire and is clearly the least bothered in the place.

Honestly, I’d love to be on her level right now because I’d personally like to crawl out of my skin.

“Is someone sick?” Annie asks.

“Dying?” Roselyn adds.

Sam crosses his arms and just stares at them. “What’s really going on?”

“It has to do with the Golds. Doesn’t it?” Ella asks, her voice scratchy from the cold.

Every eye in the room turns to her, and she adjusts slightly in her blanket.

“What do you mean?” I ask her .

Her hand inchworms out of the blanket to tangle her fingers with mine. I reach for her as often as she reaches for me; a way to bolster each other or ourselves against what’s coming.

She clears her throat. “Someone made a deal. That’s what this boils down to.”

“Why would you think that, Ella?” I squeeze her hand. It’s a bold assumption, but not altogether shocking.

“I think my stepmother made one.”

My chest tightens as pieces fall into place. “For you?” My voice cracks with emotion.

I can’t imagine anything valuable enough to bargain Lucy for. But then again, Charlotte never liked Ella. The idea makes me nauseous.

“No. At least I don’t think so,” she says. “For her job. For Gilded Vows.”

After our conversation the other night, this explains some things.

“The Golds always get what they’re owed. What are they after?” I direct this question to my parents, who have stayed eerily quiet this whole time.

“The farm,” Mom answers.

“The farm?” The question bursts out of each of us at different intervals, the inflections and volume levels creating a panicked sort of symphony.

“With conditions!” Gran yells over us. As we quiet, her eyes settle on me. “For now, it involves you two.”

Dread settles into my limbs, dragging them down like they’re attached to heavy weights. The way I feel about Ella can’t be related to magic. It can’t. It’s real .

“What do you mean?”

I’m glad Ella has the gumption to ask, because internally I’m reeling.

“My parents made a hasty decision during a drought one season. We’d gone a record number of days with no rain. The well was dry. We were going to lose everything. So Daddy went to Mr. Gold, and he offered him some magic beans. They grew all sorts of things on the farm and completely saved us from ruin.”

“Are you telling us the magic bean story is true ?” Roselyn asks. “All those years of hearing it. It never occurred to me it might be real.”

My conversation with Sebastian on opening day flashes back into my mind.

“Legends are based on real people and stories, but they’re often exaggerated,” I say.

“What?” Sam demands. “What does that mean?”

“King Arthur,” I mumble.

My mind is reeling as random pieces of my life click into place. I always assumed our parents told us stories for nostalgia’s sake. Or to feed into the matchmaking lore of Enchanted Hollow. I swore they doubled down on them during my teenage years just to annoy me with kissing stories.

Now I can’t help but wonder if they’ve been trying to tell us something.

“In exchange for what?” The question comes from Violet now.

“Well.” Gran pauses. She’s not usually one to mince words, so it’s likely I won’t be a fan of what she says next. “Seems like you kids are the generation to unlock the magic on the farm again. Holly started it, and now it’s moved on to Luke and Ella.”

Suddenly Gran pushing Ella on me makes a lot more sense.

“What kind of nineteenth century nonsense is this?” Gaby shoves to her feet. “So we have to find love or the farm is done? They get the whole thing? There are no more crops? Explain! Please. ”

Roselyn raises a hand to divert attention. “Is there an app for this? The only person who’s even got a prospect here is Luke. How are we supposed to just find love ?”

“You can’t be taking this seriously.” Gaby sweeps an arm toward our parents and Gran. “They’ve known about this and said nothing. Now we’re just supposed to just find someone to fall in love with?”

“It’s a little strange,” Violet says. “But times were different, then. Is there a timetable?”

Gran crosses her hands in her lap. “The story goes that the magic from the beans faded with time. Someone would come along and stir it all up again, causing the farm to thrive. But until all seven of you kids find love, it’s going to be unstable.”

“And what happens if we don’t all find love?” My voice trembles with anger, but I don’t even care. Betrayal is the bulk of the iceberg heading straight for my relationship.

“Then the land goes back to the Golds. Consider it a power struggle until all seven of you find love.”

“You’re telling me the Golds hold power here?”

“They try.” Gran harrumphs. “What do you think this little cold snap is?”

“Sabrina always had a temper,” Mom sighs. “It’s been a while since she unleashed a cold snap. We suspect it’s because of you and Ella.”

I lift a hand and massage my temples. “So wait. Wait. You expect me to believe that Sabrina–our town mayor–got angry that people were offering to throw us an engagement party? So she threw an arctic fit and practically gave Ella hypothermia.”

And here I thought the town meeting was wild. I’ll take the garden gnomes over this.

Ella gives my arm a gentle tug, and I let her pull me close. She presses a kiss to my temple and the myriad of emotions that are sparking inside dims .

“I’m fine,” she whispers, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“I think it was a coincidence that Ella got knocked into the fountain. You said the two instances felt distinct?” Sam asks.

I nod. “The dog and cat were playing, so it was more like a prank. Like when the dog owners’ leash tangle around them and wraps them up together.”

“I love those movies,” Violet sighs.

“Who was going to throw you an engagement party?” Mom bursts out. She’s been sitting on that for a few minutes.

“Not now, Molly,” Dad grumbles. “I think we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“I’d just like to know who might be more important than his mother, that’s all.” She sniffs.

I open my mouth to remind her that this engagement isn’t real, but I know it’ll be a waste of breath. Today is weird and exhausting and I’m half convinced it was the late night bowl of Lucy’s cereal that’s giving me a nightmare. I pinch my arm to check.

“What are you doing?” Ella asks.

“Not a dream,” I grumble.

“I just want to make sure I understand,” Gaby says. “Y’all accepted magic beans, but the magic actually faded. But here we are, a few generations later. Holly shows up for and is somehow tied to the magic and wakes it up, and now all seven of us have to fall in love for the farm to fully thrive and be amazing. Oh, and the Golds are going to try to stop us so they can keep the land. Or the power. Or both.”

“Pretty excellent summary.” Gran adjusts in her chair.

“I’m going to find the original story somewhere.” Gaby huffs. “This seems ridiculous. How does Holly even tie into this?”

“Another story for another day. Lucy will be out of school soon, and I suspect Ella is worn out.”

“Last question,” Violet says. “Love must be given through everyone’s free will, right? That’s typically the condition.”

“Yes.” Mom nods

Like a landslide, things click into place. All the weird things Sebastian has said to me. The way my affected pumpkins seem to waver back and forth, no matter what I do.

The haze at Midnight in the Hollow, years ago, when I felt the tug to Ella. The connections I feel to her even now.

My heart recognized her, even if my head wasn’t quite able to.

I loved her then.

I think I love her now.

“Are you okay?” she asks, burrowing into the side of my body.

“No wonder you and Bruno get along.”

“Hmm?”

“He loves to burrow, too.”

“Just so warm,” she murmurs sleepily. I wrap an arm around her, bringing her even closer.

“Go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”

But I have to wonder–is that a promise I can keep?