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

You made the solemn promise not to tell anyone about the farm and not to take anything from the farm. You have to speak to the Head Tender. Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No, not really.” She shuffled her feet, embarrassed by what she was about to admit. “He yelled at me. He told me to go away. Why doesn’t my grandfather like me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Not you. Someone else.” He stopped unwinding and tucked a rope of hair behind his ear. “Your grandfather has given up, Isabelle. He fired the farmhands because he thinks there’s no future for magic or the farm. He’s waiting to die and for the farm to die. That’s why all the plants are overgrown and why the garden is filled with weeds. That’s why the seeds are rotting and why the squirrels are getting fat. But Walnut and I don’t want the farm to die. Walnut believes that magic will have a place in the world again, and I… well, this is the only home I’ve ever had. So we went to find you, hoping that if Nesbitt met you, he’d believe in our future again.”

“But he doesn’t want to meet me. He told me to go away.”

“We’re hoping that you’ll be able to change his mind.” He threaded a silver needle. Then he stuck the needle into the air, pulled it, and stuck it into the air again.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a hole in the dome,” he said.

She leaned forward and looked at the place where he held the needle. “I don’t see a hole. It’s just air. How can air have a hole?”

“You can’t see the hole because you aren’t trained to see it. But I’ve been doing this for five years now, so trust me. It’s right there and it’s big. If I don’t fix it, it will get bigger and then someone could slip through and find the farm.” He chewed on his lower lip, concentrating on his task.

“Can I help?”

“I only have one needle. But thanks.”

Isabelle sat nearby, wishing she had another sandwich. “How come there’s a hole?” she asked. “And don’t tell me that I should know.”

Sage’s tangled hair hung down the back of his yellow shirt. His long legs didn’t look so skinny in regular pants. “It goes back to that promise.”

“Not to tell anyone about the farm and not to take anything from it.”

“Yep. Every tender has to make that solemn promise. The sorcerer set it up that way. If a tender breaks the promise then the spell that protects the farm is weakened and you get holes. Walnut didn’t have the Head Tender’s permission when he told you about the farm, but that didn’t weaken the spell because the sorcerer’s magic recognizes you as a rightful heir to the knowledge. You’re supposed to know the secret. You’re supposed to be here. Besides, the holes started appearing a long time ago.”

“Oh.” Isabelle thought she saw a stitched seam hover in the air in front of Sage’s face, but then it disappeared. “Then who broke the promise?” Silence followed her question. She threw her hands up. “Oh great. I suppose you can’t tell me. Of course not. No one tells me anything.” She folded her arms. “If I’m supposed to be the last tender and the only hope for magic, or whatever, then shouldn’t I know what’s going on?”

“Yes, you should.” He tied a knot and broke the thread with his teeth.

“Then tell me who broke the vow.”

“I can’t. Walnut wants to be the one to tell you.”

Isabelle stood. “Then I’m going back. He said he’d answer my questions when I got back.”

“Dusk will come before you’re halfway down the mountain,” Sage said, tucking the thread and needle into his satchel. “You could get lost. I’ll go with you. Hey, wait for me.”

Though her legs were tired and the marmot’s claws dug into her shoulders, Isabelle ran down that mountain. She was going to learn the truth about her parents, once and for all, and the reason why she was the only person in Runny Cove to ever have been left on a doorstep.

As the farm’s songbirds tucked themselves into their nests, and the pantry mice curled by the fire, Isabelle, Great-Uncle Walnut, and Sage sat at the kitchen table. Walnut dipped a ladle into a cast iron pot, filling three bowls with steaming potato stew. Sage sliced through a yellow round of cheese, handing Isabelle a wedge-shaped chunk. Mama Lu had never shared her cheese. It crumbled in Isabelle’s mouth, then melted into creamy deliciousness.

“You promised to tell me about my parents,” Isabelle said.

“We will eat first,” Walnut told her, blowing on his stew. “A tale of sadness is better endured on a full stomach.”

So they ate—Isabelle as quickly as she could. Rocky, who had uprooted the potted plant and had tossed it aside, dug joyfully. No one seemed to care, so Isabelle didn’t scold her.

Hurry up and eat. Hurry up and eat.

FINALLY, just when Isabelle thought she couldn’t sit a moment longer, the time came. Walnut unbuttoned his plaid jacket and swept his long white hair behind his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly. He began like any good storyteller, with a first line certain to capture a listener’s attention.

“Earthworms were especially fond of your mother.”

Isabelle leaned forward. “Did you say earthworms?”

“I did, indeed. Even when she was a baby, whenever she sat on the ground, all the earthworms would migrate toward her. Such a fantastic gift for a tender. She was a superb composter. Compost is derived from the Latin compositus or compostus, meaning to convert plant debris into dirt. Composting is a skill that all tenders must learn in order to condition the land for planting and to…”

Isabelle fidgeted. Sage cleared his throat.

“Oh.” Walnut paused. “I guess you don’t want to hear about that. You want to hear about your parents.”

“Yes. Please.”

Tears pooled on Walnut’s lower lids. He