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

stood behind the cottage. Its little thatched roof looked like a hat. At the edge of the valley, just below the mountain, sat a lake shaped like a half round of cheese with an island in the middle.

Still, Isabelle couldn’t find the words. “It’s so… It’s so…”

“Beautiful?” Walnut asked.

“More than that.”

“Splendiferous?”

“Much, much more.”

“Hmmm.” Walnut removed his knit hat and scratched his bald spot. “Radiant? Dazzling? Breathtakingly stupendous?”

“No. It’s… delicious.”

And so it was, for Isabelle’s puckered skin drank up the sun’s rays like a dried-out sea sponge drinks salt water. She rolled up the kelp suit’s sleeves and held out her arms. So this was what it felt like to be warm all over—like an enormous hug. She wanted to feel the sun on her face, so she took off the sunglasses. Something had changed and she didn’t seem to need them any longer.

Walnut pulled his glasses from his pocket and perched them on his nose. “How interesting,” he whispered, gazing through the thick lenses. “My oh my. What an unexpected change. Your eyes, my dear. They’ve turned green.”

“My eyes?”

Walnut stepped closer. “And your skin. Take a look.”

Isabelle inspected her arm. The skin that had always been as puckered as a dried-up slug and as pale as moonlight, looked smooth and slightly pink. Her other arm had transformed in the same way and the mold patches had disappeared. “You look lovely. Sage, doesn’t she look lovely?”

Sage stared from behind his tangled hair. Isabelle felt certain he’d tell her she was still as ugly as ever. But he just stared.

“Sage? Isn’t she lovely?”

Sage looked down at his feet. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you know. Just look at her. Why, she’s radiant.”

Sage cringed. “She looks… better, I guess.” He turned away. “What do I care what she looks like, anyway?” He and the oxen started down the path, with Eve the cat leading the way. Rocky the marmot followed, scurrying here and there, stopping to smell ox poop and everything else she encountered.

“Come,” Walnut said, tipping his hat. “There’s so much to show you.”

The path continued its steep decline, then leveled at the edge of the orchard. Sage unhooked the oxen. As they lumbered off, he shot Isabelle another puzzled look. He can barely stand to look at me, she thought. I’m the ugliest girl he’s ever seen.

“I’m starving. I need some breakfast,” Sage said. Abandoning the caravan, he ran off through the trees. Eve the cat hissed at the marmot, then followed Sage, bounding down the orchard path with her tail perched regally in the air.

“Don’t mind him,” Walnut said, taking Isabelle’s hand. “We haven’t had a girl around this farm in a very long time. Just been us three boys. Sage doesn’t quite know how to act around girls. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so rude.”

“No other girls?” He must have misspoken. “But what about my mother?”

Walnut let Isabelle’s hand drop. “Ah, your mother.” He looked away. “I’m sorry to tell you, dear Isabelle, but it’s just your grandfather and me. We are all the family you have.”

“What do you mean?” Isabelle leaned against the caravan, feeling faint. “I don’t have a mother or father?”

“Not any longer. Are you terribly disappointed?”

No mother? No father? Of course she was disappointed! She wanted to cry but she held back the tears. She pressed her lips together to keep the disappointment inside. After all, a grandfather and a great-uncle were more relatives than she had ever had in her entire life. So, she put on a brave little smile. “I’m not… terribly disappointed. But what happened to them?”

Walnut sighed. “We can talk about that later. Right now we both need some breakfast. Fortunately, there’s plenty to eat right here.” He spread his arms. “You’ve come at the peak of fruit season.”

Aside from the occasional apple at the factory store, the only fruit Isabelle had ever seen came in a tin labeled FRUIT COCKTAIL. Mama Lu served the treat to her tenants once a year, on her birthday. Before serving, she would inspect each bowl and pick out the cherries. “Them’s fer me,” she’d shout. “I’m the birthday girl.” Then she’d pick out the green grapes and the pears. “You all can have the peaches. I hate them peaches.”

Fruit in all shapes and sizes crowded the branches of the orchard trees. Some were golden, some orange, some striped red and white. Rocky sank her big front teeth into a purple fruit that had fallen to the ground. Isabelle’s spirits lifted as she pointed down the lane. “Are those Love Apples?”

“Yes. Help yourself.”

Isabelle’s mouth watered as she hurried to the tree, remembering the last juicy bite she had taken, which seemed like a lifetime ago. Dozens of red apples hung between shiny green leaves but the twisted branches grew too high for Isabelle’s reach, even on tiptoe. “How do I get one?”

“You’re a tender,” Walnut said, pulling a root out of his nose. “All you have to do is ask.”

Ask? But hadn’t he already given her permission to take one? “Great-Uncle Walnut, may I…”

“No, no.” He chuckled. “Ask the tree.” He wandered back to the caravan, leaving Isabelle to ponder this latest mystery.

Considering how much she wanted an apple, asking rather than taking did seem like the polite thing to do. Isabelle stepped closer to the knotted trunk. She didn’t know exactly what to look for—a face maybe, or a pair of ears sticking out of the wood. “Um, hello, tree.” She felt a bit silly. While she had had long conversations with barnacles, potato bugs, and slugs, she had never before spoken to a tree. This was not a prejudice on Isabelle’s part—trees simply did not grow in Runny Cove. “I was wondering if I could have one of your apples for breakfast?”

You may. The voice, wispy like a cloud, floated through the leaves. A little shiver ran up Isabelle’s neck.

The tree gracefully lowered a branch until it hung at Isabelle’s shoulder. She smiled and gently plucked an apple. “Thank you.”

You’re welcome, Tender.