Chapter 53

fifty-three

ELLA

I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve felt this level of despair.

Twice, for each loss of my parents, the first time Charlotte showed me who she truly was, and tonight.

Again, I let myself hope — let myself reach for the things I’ve only dreamed of — and it all came crumbling down. Now, I’m locked in a barn, without a walkie talkie.

Charlotte is out there, ready to burn everything to the ground.

No one showed up to prove my theory right: that she really doesn’t have to ability to take away Ever After Farms. The Gold’s long-standing ties to it trump Charlotte. It’s a gut feeling.

But I really expected that someone might pop in and side with me.

Or even more far-fetched, that if the magic bean story is true, the magic that we’re trying to save might save me.

Luke is right. Magic is a nuisance.

And I’m out of ideas .

“I’m not brave,” I whisper. “I’m done believing in wishing wells and shooting stars and magic. Good doesn’t win.”

Do I actually believe the words I’m saying?

More than I ever have.

There’s a small part of me that doesn’t want to fully embrace those feelings because the world feels too bleak without them. But I don’t know how to outsmart Charlotte anymore.

Every spare moment I wasn’t with Luke or Holly for the last two weeks has been returning every serve Charlotte sends my way.

Out of bounds? Whack.

Slice serve? Stumble, then whack.

Technically, the only tennis experience I’ve got is from playing on the Wii with various Jackson siblings, but dang it, I got good. Multiple highest score good.

It counts.

Maybe it would be less devastating if it were just me she was hurting. But it’s Luke’s whole family. Part of the town. Everywhere I’ve turned, people have stepped up to help.

And it has all been for nothing.

No matter how much experience I’ve gained over the last decade, it’s not enough. I’ll never be enough.

“That’s enough of that, young lady.”

I hastily wipe away tears and shove myself to my feet.

“Gran, what are you doing?” I ask, sniffling through my remaining sadness. “It’s dark, and this floor isn’t even?—”

“When are you going to stop worrying about everyone else?”

I blink. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I made the choice to come out here, so any consequences of that decision are mine and mine alone. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. ”

“You’re not curious how I got in here?”

I blink. From the moment Charlotte pulled the sliding door closed, I tried every single way out in the place. Nothing budged.

“Everything is locked.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” She winks. “While we’re on the subject, no more of that ‘I don’t believe in magic anymore’ nonsense. I’m surprised you could even get the words out.” She snorts out a laugh. “Magic is a part of you, Ella.”

“And where has it gotten me?” I ask. Anger and frustration battle it out in my belly. “A mild case of hypothermia and all this sacrifice for nothing?”

“Nothing?” She arches an eyebrow.

My cheeks heat. “If she wins, all I have to offer Luke is myself. And how could he still love me if he loses this place?”

“What makes you think any of that matters more than you, Ella?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “This farm is his legacy.”

She takes my chin in her hands and smiles. “Dear child, you still haven’t figured it out? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Smarter than what?” I whisper.

Gran giggles and takes a few steps back. “Give me a minute. It’s been a while, so I’m a little rusty.”

She winks at me and snaps her fingers, sending an explosion of stars into the air. At least I think that’s what they are. They’re more colorful than sparks, and they fountain into the air like a giant sparkler. It’s prettier than any fireworks display I’ve ever seen.

There’s a split second where time seems to hang in the air; an old-fashioned freeze frame. Gran is the woman I’ve always known, while also being someone I’ve never seen in my life before. A variation of Schrodinger’s cat — she is simultaneously familiar and a stranger all at once — until time moves forward and shows me one or the other.

I’ve spent my whole life listening to stories about this town, this farm, and all the magic between. There has been no shortage of situations where magic is the only explanation.

Like Luke’s pumpkin patch and the way they constantly evolve between warped and normal, a mirror of our roller-coaster of emotions about each other.

Or when I went to Midnight in the Hollow all those years ago and no one recognized me.

As the stars dim, a new version of Gran emerges, and I realize that it’s possible for her to be both.

“Who are you?”

“I think you know.” Gran smiles at me. But she doesn’t look like Gran.

I’m staring at her in disbelief. In all the years, in all the situations, I’ve never actually seen one face to face like this. Not in their full regalia. I’ve always heard that they don’t like to parade around in it because it draws too much attention. Playing the part is easier, especially when people don’t take it at face value.

“You can’t be.”

“Can’t be what? I’m your Fairy Godmother.”

It’s official. My stress level has reached a tipping point and I’m experiencing some sort of mental break where I can’t tell reality from my vivid imagination.

“You need to repeat that, because I think I hallucinated. What?”

“Your Fairy Godmother. Surely you’re familiar with the term. Your mother would be disappointed in you.” Lavender eyes narrow at me, tsk-ing me the way a grandmother might. Only she looks nothing like the Gran I know and grew up around. Her platinum colored curls spill over her shoulders and to her waist, jeweled pins winking in the twilight as she moves her head.

“But Gran,” I breathe out. “You’re?—”

“I know what I look like, and we can talk about this later.”

This is a lot to process.

A lot.

“Let’s say I was going to play along with this—” I gesture with my hand, failing to finish that thought out loud.

“Good gracious, Ella. We haven’t got all night.” She shimmies her shoulders. “There’s a little tickle when you transform. I’d forgotten.”

I have so many questions.

“How long?”

“How long what, dear?”

“How long have you been my Fairy Godmother?”

“Well. If we’re being technical. Your whole life, Ella. But we don’t intervene unless it’s necessary. Think of us as more like—a guide.”

“A guide.”

“As much as I’d love to do this right now, we are on a bit of a time crunch.”

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react to my fake fiancé’s grandmother turning into a Fairy Godmother. Clearly, shock isn’t what she was expecting.

“Does Luke know?”

She twists her mouth in thought. Can Fairy Godmothers lie?

“He knows what I am.”

“But not what you look like?” I finish for her.

“Luke struggles with things he can’t explain,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe.”

Everything always circles back to my last night here, to Luke. Invisible strings I always romanticized and wished for .

“It was you. Luke came to you, so I could go to Midnight in the Hollow.”

“There she is,” Gran smiles.

Hope swells. She’s the magic I was hoping for.

“Are you here to save me? I’ve got to get out there. She’s going to sabotage Holly’s wedding.”

“Why would I need to save you?”

“You can’t use a little magic to unlock a door?” I plead. “How did you get in here, anyway?”

Gran makes herself eye-level with me. “Nobody is going to save you but you , sweet girl. You’ve always had the power to have a different life.”

“By risking everything that’s important to me?”

She purses her lips. “By believing in other people. I feel sure Luke has told you once or twice that it’s okay to rely on other people. And that you’re not alone in this world. Trust them.”

He’s told me even more, beginning with the first day I arrived here.

“So you just pick and choose how to use your magic, then?” I ask, curious. “What about the pumpkin carriage?”

“Magic comes at a price, Ella. That’s why we guide first and use magic later. Sparingly. You’ve seen firsthand how magic affects things—like the farm.”

I’m about to ask her how else it affects things when there’s a loud slam as the barn door comes open.

“Ella? You in here?” Sam yells.

I glance up at Gran. “You were distracting me so they could find me, and I wouldn’t be alone.”

“Now you’re getting it,” she smiles.

There’s no reason for me to know that good will win. Nothing is a guarantee.

Except that it’s something that my parents and the Jacksons deeply ingrained in me from a young age. It’s the reason we have hope, and the reason we fight when things look bleak.

Good always wins. It’s always true. In every fairytale, in every quest story. It doesn’t always come without a cost, but it’s enough to awaken that hope again.

We can come out of the other side of this.

Gran just subtly reminded me of something very important, and I’m thinking back to Charlotte’s sad story.

I’ve got something Charlotte doesn’t. Several things, actually.

I’m surrounded by people who feed my bravery because they love me. They accept me. They encourage me.

I’ve got a family .

“One more thing, Ella,” Gran says. “As long as you choose each other, you won’t lose. Love always wins.”