Fortune's Magic Farm Suzanne Selfors (best books for 20 year olds txt) 📖

I knew was that ten years ago a baby was left in this awful place but I didn’t know if the baby was a boy or a girl. So I sent Rolo to scout around. He learned that there were only three kids in Runny Cove who were ten years old. So I brought the three apples and Rolo, Eve, and Neptune helped me deliver them to the three kids. Then I waited to see which one of you was the tender.” He stopped, as if he had explained everything.

Isabelle wiped her mouth, more confused than ever. “Was the what?”

“The tender. Turned out to be you. You’re a tender.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. One day, you might be the last tender in the whole world.”

Nothing he had said made any sense. Maybe he was crazy like Mr. Morris, the man who sometimes danced naked in the rain.

“I’m sorry but you’ve gotten me mixed up with someone else. I’m just Isabelle. I’m a box labeler. I work at the umbrella factory.”

Sage shook his head, his expression somber. “There’s no mistake. The apple seed is living proof. Only a tender can make the apple seed grow. It’s an odd sort of apple.”

Isabelle leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a Love Apple,” he said, stroking the cat’s back. “Only someone with a pure heart can eat a Love Apple. That’s why it turned black when Mama Lu and Gertrude tried to eat one and when Mr. Hench tried to eat one. Love Apples know the difference.”

“They do?” Isabelle leaned farther.

“Sure. That’s their purpose. But the seed, well, that’s another story entirely. Only a tender can germinate a Love Apple’s seed. It has something to do with the fact that a tender’s hands are extra warm.”

Isabelle held out her hands and looked at them as if she had never seen them before.

Sage tucked the mug into his satchel. Then he stood and brushed sand off his cape. “Tenders grow things.”

Isabelle frowned, lowering her hands. How disappointing. He had the wrong person after all. “Well, that proves that I’m not a tender because I don’t grow things.”

He frowned. “Of course you grow things. Look at your room and your locker at work. And your body. You’ve got lichen growing in your hair and I bet you can grow mushrooms between your toes. Only a tender can do that.”

“But those things grow by themselves,” Isabelle explained, scratching a patch of mold at the back of her neck.

“Stop being so dense,” he said irritably. “You’re a tender.” And then he said the magic word. “Tenders are special.”

Isabelle had never known the sensation of standing beneath clouds at the very moment when they part and the sun breaks through—but that is how she felt. Her entire body tingled. “I’m special?” she whispered.

“Tenders are incredibly special. Only a few people get to be tenders. I wish I could be one.” He sighed. “But those are enough questions for now. Dawn’s almost here. We need to go.”

“Go?” Isabelle wanted to talk more about being special. “Are you going to Nowhere, too?”

“Nowhere?”

“That’s where I’m from. But I don’t think I should go with you. I don’t even know you.”

He folded his arms. “Actually, it’s not called Nowhere. And if you don’t know the correct name then how will you get there? You don’t have any supplies or anything. And which way will you go? The mountains that lie to the north will freeze you to death and the desert that lies to the south will cook you to death.” He smirked. “So? Which way will you go?”

Isabelle wrung her hands. Which way was north? Which way south? Dreaming about a journey was entirely different from actually taking that journey. Maybe she was the crazy one. No one but Mr. Supreme’s delivery truck drivers had ever left Runny Cove. What had she done? Going back meant work, work, work. No way did she want to spend another day standing beside that clunking conveyor belt. No way did she want to set foot in Mama Lu’s Boardinghouse again. Going back meant possible imprisonment for taking Mama Lu’s pickle jar. Going forward could mean freezing like an ice cube or sizzling like a piece of peat. Not much of a choice. She felt as stuck as a barnacle on a rock.

As if reading her mind, Sage’s voice softened. “Look, Isabelle. Your only chance out of this town is to come with me.” The cat stretched and rubbed against Sage’s leg. “I’m here to take you to your real home, to the place you came from. You have family there, waiting to meet you. But I can’t force you to go. You have to decide on your own.”

“Family?” Isabelle swallowed hard. Could it be true? “Waiting for me?”

Someone yelled in the distance.

Sage ran to the doorway. “Lanterns,” he said. Isabelle followed and peered around his arm. Two yellow lights bobbed near the factory. “They’re looking for you along the road. They probably won’t check the beach right away. That will give us enough time.” He turned to her. “So? What’s your decision?”

Now was the time to find out if what she had always believed was true—that she had not been left on that doorstep because she was an unwanted piece of garbage. Finding Nowhere was what she craved with all her heart. Her grandmother’s spirit had left for a better place and Isabelle was ready to leave too.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Then we’d better hurry.” He slung his satchel over his back and headed outside. The cat and raven followed.

“How will we get there?” Isabelle called after him. “Which way will we go?”

“We’ll go by sea.”

The first rays of morning filtered through the clouds, casting the beach in pale light. The rain had turned to mist, gently coating Isabelle’s face as she watched Sage disappear around the rocky bluff. She clutched the pickle jar and ran after him.

“By sea? But where’s your boat?” she asked.

Sage pointed to an enormous lump in the sand. “We travel by elephant seal.”