Fortune's Magic Farm

by Suzanne Selfors

  “He doesn’t want you here, either,” she told Rocky. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.” Rocky seemed to understand, for she stared sadly at Isabelle with her round black eyes. Then she touched her wet nose to Isabelle’s freckled one. Together, they climbed out the bedroom window and started across the yard.

  Each footstep felt heavier than the last. She didn’t dare look back, knowing that she’d start to cry again. She wanted to stay, with all her heart. There, in that fairy tale place, Isabelle knew that she would never run out of things to collect and take care of. She’d never run out of songs either. She’d never run out of interesting.

  Her intent was to walk straight through the orchard and find the path that led up to the ridge and tunnel, but Rolo flew from the barn and circled her head. “Caw, caw.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Sage hurried from the barn, bits of straw hanging from his hair. “Were you trying to leave without me?” He grabbed Isabelle’s arm.

  “I’m not going back to Runny Cove,” she said, yanking away from his grip. “Never. Do you hear me. Never!”

  “Shhh. You’ll wake Nesbitt. Let’s talk inside.”

  “No.”

  “If you don’t come inside and talk to me, then I’ll wake Nesbitt anyway,” he threatened.

  She didn’t want to talk, but she didn’t want to wake her grandfather either. She followed Sage to the barn. As he lit a candle, some of the animals awoke. The oxen snorted a greeting. The goats raised their bearded faces.

  Isabelle stood in the doorway. If she went inside, he might trap her. “No one can make me go back.”

  Sage rubbed sleep from his eyes. “You won’t survive out there. Not without me.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said, scowling. “You think I’m just a stupid factory girl.”

  Sage folded his arms and shook his head. “I don’t think you’re stupid, Isabelle. It’s just that you don’t have the survival skills. I know. I ran away when I was seven. If it hadn’t been for Nesbitt, I’d be dead.”

  The chickens clucked softly, repositioning themselves on their roost. Isabelle took a cautious step inside. “What happened?”

  Sage pushed aside a blanket and sat on a pile of straw. Dim candlelight flickered, throwing shadows across his dark face. “I grew up in a port town, way down south,” he said. “My parents indentured me to a seaweed soup factory when I was six years old. Do you know what that means, to be indentured?” Isabelle shook her head. “It means that they sold me to the factory’s owner. I don’t know how much money my parents got for me but that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I knew, even at age six, that I wasn’t about to work in that factory for the rest of my life, standing at that conveyor belt every day, pressing labels onto soup tins. So, when I turned seven, I ran away.”

  Isabelle was too stunned to speak. Sage had been a labeler?

  “I figured that the best way to get out of a port town was by boat, so I stole aboard the biggest ship I could find, a Magnificently Supreme Shipping Company ship.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. I stole food every night from the kitchen and slept down below where they kept the ropes. After thirteen days at sea I overheard some of the crew saying that we’d reach the next port by morning. I knew they’d need the ropes to dock the ship and I didn’t want to get caught. I waited for nightfall, then crept up on deck. I could see land and it didn’t seem very far away, so I climbed over the railing and jumped into the water.”

  Sage picked a piece of straw from his hair and rolled it between his long brown fingers. His eyes took on a faraway look. “I made two mistakes that night. I miscalculated the distance and I didn’t realize that the water would be so cold. My arms and legs started to feel like stone and the land didn’t get any closer. I went under. The next thing I knew I was lying across the back of an elephant seal with a man who introduced himself as Mr. Nesbitt Fortune.”

  “He saved your life,” Isabelle whispered.

  “Yep. And he gave me a home. And I’ve worked hard ever since because I love this place. But you can’t imagine how bad it’s been with Supreme searching all the time. We can barely leave the farm anymore.” Sage flicked the piece of straw.

  “I’m sorry about the farm,” Isabelle said, pulling the marmot away from a chicken’s nest. “I really am. But I’m not going back to Runny Cove. You of all people should understand why.”

  “Runny Cove is a rotten place; I know that. But at least you have a home there. You have people to watch over you. That’s something.”

  “But I don’t have a home. Grandma Maxine is dead and the room on the fourth floor is destroyed,” she said. “And Mr. Supreme will make me work until my fingers fall off. I won’t go back and that’s final.” With Rocky tucked under her arm, she started walking toward the barn door.

  “There’s still something I haven’t told you,” Sage said.

  “It won’t change my mind.”

  “I think it will.”

  Isabelle hesitated. She didn’t want to know anything more. She didn’t want to feel any sadder or any more frightened. But curiosity pushed the word “What?” out of her mouth.

  “Your grandmother is not dead.”

  For the first time in her life Isabelle wanted to hurt another human being—not just dump porridge on his head, or kick him in the shins, or say something mean, but to physically cause pain. Anger shot through her body. She clenched her jaw and fists. How dare Sage say that her grandmother was still alive? Of course he was lying again, trying to trick her so she’d go back to Runny Cove. Then he could tell Nesbitt that he had taken her back, just like Nesbitt wanted. How could he be so cruel?

  She was done with him. Done with them all. Enough with the lies and sad stories and fake friendships. She broke into a run.

  “Don’t run off. Just listen to what I have to say,” Sage pleaded.

  Isabelle ran across the yard and toward the field that sparkled in the silver moonlight. Though she pumped her legs with all her might, Sage’s legs were longer and faster and he didn’t have an overfed marmot in his arms. He ran ahead, then turned, blocking her way.

  “That day, when you were at the factory, I went to see your grandmother.”

  “I’m not listening,” Isabelle said, weaving around him.

  Sage followed, blocking her again. He spoke so quickly she could barely understand. “I knew that if I could get her blessing, it would be easier to convince you to go to the farm with me.”

  Again, Isabelle tried to scoot past, but this time he reached out and grabbed her around the waist. They tumbled into the tall grass. The marmot whistled as Isabelle struggled to break Sage’s grip, but he easily pinned her to the ground. The marmot climbed onto his back and bit his ear. “Ouch,” Sage cried, releasing one hand to push the marmot off. But still Isabelle couldn’t break free.

  “Listen to me,” he begged. “You’ve got to listen. Then I’ll let you go.”

  “I don’t want to listen,” Isabelle hissed. The marmot scurried around in circles, searching for a rock.

  “You don’t have a choice! Just sit there and listen to me and then you can run off to wherever it is you’re running off to.”

  “Fine!”

  They glared at one another, their faces so close that Isabelle could see the moon in his brown eyes. He released her and she scooted away, hugging her knees. Sage put out his hand, deflecting a perfectly aimed rock. The marmot whistled, then wedged herself between Isabelle’s feet.

  Sage’s expression darkened. “Like I said, I knew that you wouldn’t leave Runny Cove without your grandmother’s permission, so while you were at the factory, I knocked on Mama Lu’s door.” He relaxed a bit, his breathing slowing. “Mama Lu opened the door and said, ‘Who are ya and what do ya want? I ain’t lettin’ ya in unless yer the new cheese delivery man or yer the undertaker come to take away that old lazy bag of bones upstairs.’”

  Isabelle shivered, for he had mimicked the landlady’s voice surpr
isingly well.

  “I didn’t have any cheese so I told her that I was the undertaker. ‘Well it’s about time she died,’ Mama Lu said. ‘She was a useless, good-fer-nothing invalid, that’s what she was. It’ll be good to get rid of her.’”

  That sounded exactly like something Mama Lu would say. Isabelle clung to every word.

  “Mama Lu told me I’d have to go up to the fourth floor to collect the body. I hadn’t realized how sick your grandmother was until I saw her. She couldn’t even open her eyes. Walnut had packed a Curative Cherry so I could give it to you, Isabelle, but I gave it to your grandmother instead. She seemed so close to dying. It worked immediately. She got right out of bed and gave me a hug. Then she walked around the bedroom and said, ‘Isabelle was right. This moss carpet makes my feet feel wonderful.’”

  Isabelle gasped. “You’re lying,” she whispered. “You only know about the moss carpet because you sent Rolo to look in my window. Why are you doing this?”

  Sage continued. “I told your grandmother that I knew your real family. That I had been sent to collect you. I told her that you would live on a farm where you could grow all sorts of plants. She was thrilled. ‘Will you give her a magical cherry?’ she asked. I promised that I would. ‘Could she go to school?’ I answered yes. ‘Would she have to work in a factory?’ I told her never. ‘How did you get up here?’ she asked and I explained that I had pretended to be the undertaker.

  “Your grandmother sat quietly for a while, then made a decision. ‘Isabelle must go with you. There’s nothing for her in this place. She’s an intelligent girl. She deserves a better life. But she’ll never leave, not as long as I’m alive. She must think that I am dead and that the undertaker came and got me.’

  “I didn’t argue with her. I knew it would be easier for you to leave if you believed that your grandmother had died. It wasn’t the right thing to do, I realize that now, but I was thinking about the farm, Isabelle. You must believe me. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Isabelle said nothing. She thought only of Grandma Maxine, standing in moss, feeling better after eating a Curative Cherry. Could it be true?

  “Your grandmother and I decided that I would continue to play the part of the undertaker. I carried her downstairs, past Mama Lu, who clapped her hands as if she were watching a parade. Then I carried your grandmother around to the back of the house and through Boris and Bert’s basement door. ‘I’ll hide here,’ she told me. ‘Take Isabelle away from Runny Cove with my blessing. One day you can tell her how proud I am of her and that I hope she’s found the life she deserves. Tell her that I hope she finds her own apple tree.’”

  Isabelle knew, with that last statement, that Sage was not lying. She hurled herself at him. “I hate you,” she screamed, hitting his chest with her fists. “You should have told me that she was alive. I hate you, hate you, HATE YOU!”

  He didn’t defend himself, but sat rigid as she hit him one last time. Then she staggered to her feet. “Don’t follow me. I don’t want to see you or this place ever again.”

  This time she didn’t want to look back. This time the farm could burn, for all she cared. She couldn’t trust any of them. They were no better than Mr. Supreme, willing to do whatever it took to get what they wanted. Willing to tell her anything to save their precious farm. Willing, even, to break her heart.

  Isabelle reached the orchard and stumbled down its path, Rocky following along. The fruit trees rustled as she passed, their leaves whispering, Tender, tender. She ignored them, running as fast as she could until she came to the Curative Cherry.

  She stopped running. Cherry-covered branches hung high above her head. Nesbitt didn’t need those cherries, not as long as he planned on letting the farm die. But she knew people who desperately needed them, people who spent every day of their lives weakened by coughs and congestion. Why should she keep her solemn promise? She owed the Fortunes nothing. But she owed the people of Runny Cove everything because she was the reason why the sun never shined. Nesbitt thought that Isabelle was just like her mother. Maybe she was. But by breaking the solemn promise she wouldn’t be helping a greedy businessman. She’d be helping her friends—her true friends.

  “Tree,” she said. “May I have some of your cherries?”

  The tree shuddered, then lowered a branch. Isabelle quickly plucked as many cherries as she could and stuffed them into her kelp suit’s pockets. But surely she needed more than what her pockets could hold? A basket sat beneath a nearby tree. She grabbed it and filled it as fast as she could.

  “Thank you, tree.”

  You’re welcome, Isabelle the Tender. I wish you success with your quest.

  Clutching the basket, Isabelle started up the steep road toward the ridge. She looked back a few times to make certain that Sage wasn’t following. She searched the sky and didn’t see any sign of Rolo, either. Her legs were already worn out from the climb up the mountain to deliver the spool of thread, but she pressed on. As she walked, the light began to change. Morning was on the way, bringing with it the tendrils of orange and gold that had first greeted her arrival—when she had believed that her future was as bright and shiny as the sun itself.

  Upon reaching the top of the ridge, she didn’t linger or gaze out at the valley. I don’t want to look, she thought. I want to forget.

  She crouched and waited as Rocky climbed onto her shoulder. Then, hugging the basket to her chest, she entered the tunnel. Her eyes hadn’t forgotten how to see in dim light but she made her way carefully, catching her boots only a few times on jutting rock. When she came to the end of the tunnel she took a deep breath and held out her hand. One touch would part the Camouflage Creepers and reveal the tunnel’s exit. One touch from a tender.

  As she hesitated, her palm floating a mere inch from the wall, her old song came to mind:

  Beyond the town, beyond the mill

  beyond the river, beyond the hill

  lies the land of Nowhere

  and Nowhere lies there still

  for no one goes to Nowhere

  and no one ever will.

  Nowhere had turned out to be a place called Fortune’s Farm, a place protected from the outside world for a good reason. If Isabelle broke her solemn promise by taking the cherries, then the spell would be broken and outsiders would come to Nowhere. Rotten, evil outsiders like Mr. Supreme. He’d steal seeds and plant Cloud Clover everywhere. He’d turn the world into a landscape of rain and umbrella factories. In her desire to help the people of Runny Cove she’d make it possible for Mr. Supreme to hurt countless others. No matter how angry she felt, how betrayed or used, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t break the promise.

  Though her outside had changed, inside she remained good and true.

  Isabelle turned the basket upside down. The cherries fell to the ground, their quiet plunks echoing along the cave. She emptied her pockets. She’d have to find another way to help her friends. Somehow, she’d find another way.

  She touched the rock wall. It trembled as vines appeared, twisting and fanning until enough space had opened for her to step through.

  Clutching Rocky, Isabelle Fortune took a long sad breath and stepped out of Fortune’s Farm. The vines settled as the tunnel closed behind her. She shut her eyes and pressed her face into the marmot’s warm fur. Worry, doubt, and fear washed over her. What if she couldn’t find Neptune? What if she ran into one of Mr. Supreme’s gyrocopters? What if… ?

  “Isabelle.”

  Isabelle slowly raised her face, fearful of what she would find.

  Her grandfather, Nesbitt Rhododendrol Fortune, stood in the clearing. Eve the cat brushed against his leg. He held his arms wide and laughed the deep hearty laugh of a man whose faith had just been restored.

  “You’ve done it, Isabelle. You’ve passed the test!”

  Isabelle thought that a Vice Vine had attacked her, but it turned out to be a hug.

  Her grandfather smelled like dirt and grass and fireplace smoke. “Oh, sweet, sweet Isabelle
,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please forgive me for putting you through all this, but I had to be certain.”

  Her face squashed against his cape. The marmot chirped nervously.

  “My granddaughter. My beautiful granddaughter.” Nesbitt squeezed again, then released his arms.

  Isabelle stumbled backwards, taking a deep breath. Was her grandfather crazy? He had yelled at her, had told her to go away. But no anger blazed across his face, no venomous words shot from his mouth. His green eyes twinkled, his wrinkled face crinkled joyfully. “You’re a true tender,” he said. “The truest of us all. Look at you. Look at your hair. That is the most magnificent hair I’ve ever seen.” Eve purred in agreement.

  It wouldn’t have been possible for Isabelle to feel more confused than she felt at that moment. Of all the twists and turns her life had taken over the last few days, this was the most puzzling. She strained her neck to look up at Nesbitt’s face. Like a tree, he towered over her. “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I had to test your loyalty, Isabelle. Hold no grudge against your great-uncle or against Sage. They acted on my orders.”

  Sage and Walnut stepped out from behind some bushes. Each wore a long, hooded cape. Walnut skipped forward, dancing the same jig he had danced on the bridge when Isabelle’s hair had turned green. “She did it, she did it. I knew she would, I knew she would.” His wispy hair floated as he twirled around.

  “What did I do?” She searched through the kelp suit’s pockets, worried that she might have missed a cherry. “I didn’t take anything. I promise.”

  “Exactly,” Nesbitt said. He bent down on one knee, bringing his face level with hers. “You had all sorts of reasons to break your promise. But in the end you proved yourself honest. I almost gave up. I fired all the farmhands and stopped working because I thought it was over. But then Sage found you.” He spread his arms out like branches. “The future of the world can’t lie in just anyone’s hands, now can it? Certainly not. But a Fortune with a curious mind and a hero’s heart and a head of brilliantly green hair, now that’s the kind of person the world can rely upon.”