An Unnatural Beanstalk: A Retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk (Entwined Tales Book 2) Read online

  “Woodcutting,” Eva managed to whisper.

  But Mortimer was already walking in a circle nodding to himself again. “So . . . farming and a harp. Farming and a harp.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it.”

  Sophie stepped forward. “Mortimer, mark my words. If you do this to Eva, I will haunt you every day until you remove the curse!”

  Mortimer snorted. “It’s not a curse, it’s a gift. Besides, you’re human. You can’t haunt anyone.” Still, he paused and gave her a second look.

  Sophie just gave him a dark grin that made her freckles stand out even more than usual. “Every. Single. Day.”

  Mortimer shook his head. “Look, girls. I don’t have time for all of this. The fairy council says I’m supposed to give you gifts, so here is your gift.” He began to make little circles with his hands. “Eva of the once-farmers, I give you this gift for your generosity. Play your harp with fingers or bow, plants will wither or plants will grow. All that’s needed is music and mood, whether your mood is bitter or good.” And with that, he waved his hands in the air, throwing a sheet of sparks over Eva and disappearing into the afternoon sky.

  “Alright, what’s this about?” Rynn put down her broom and looked at Eva. The little hen house wasn’t swept clean yet, but when Rynn wore that look of determination, nothing would deter her.

  “What do you mean?” Eva kept her eyes on the basket as she gathered the eggs.

  “You hate the chickens. You wouldn’t be here unless . . .” Rynn quirked an eyebrow. “You’re hiding from Mother and Father, aren’t you?”

  Eva simply kept gathering. “I’ve never disliked finding the eggs. It’s the droppings I take issue with.”

  Rynn laughed. “Then I suppose you owe Mortimer a thank-you for removing us from the woods.”

  Eva shivered. She knew her sister was just trying to cheer her up, but she couldn’t find it in herself to laugh.

  Rynn nudged her and then put an arm around Eva’s shoulders. “Hey, it could be worse. It’s such an obscure gift . . .” She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe no one will even notice.”

  Eva put down her basket and sighed. The chicken coop was certainly not her favorite place on the mansion grounds. The corners were too close, and that was just an invitation for spiders. And the smell was gut wrenching. The chickens themselves weren’t so bad, as long as none of them decided to peck at an arm or fingers while one was gathering. And she was telling the truth about the eggs. The blue ones were her favorite.

  She sighed again. Just like her beautiful dress.

  “Eva, I know you’re out here somewhere!” Sophie shouted. Eva cringed as her sister came stampeding through the door, nearly stepping on a chicken in the process.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Why did you run off like that? Mortimer disappears and so do you! I thought at first that he’d taken you!”

  “To avoid something like this,” Eva muttered, but Sophie seemed in no mood to listen.

  “Why didn’t you fight it?”

  “No need to get so worked up.” Rynn put her hands on her hips. “Eva just needed some space. I knew that, and you should have, too.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Rynn.” Sophie glared at Eva.

  Eva raised an eyebrow. “Really? You wanted me to fight Mortimer? He’s a fairy!”

  “He could use a good slugging, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  Sophie put her hands on her hips and huffed. “You didn’t even protest! You just took the gift as it was and took the low road, just like you always do!”

  “Hold on, now!” Eva put her basket down. “I do not always take the low road!”

  “You play it safe, and you let people run right over you.”

  “I—” Eva started, but Sophie shook her head emphatically.

  “You did the same thing when Elizabeth White called you Lumber Man. Not once did you stand up for yourself. She only stopped when I started putting ants in her rouge.”

  Rynn opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say was drowned out by the sound of their parents calling Eva’s name outside. Eva looked up at Rynn. Hide me, she mouthed. But it was too late. Her parents were nearing the hen house. So she picked up her basket again and forced a smile on her face.

  “Eva! Eva where—oh, there you are.” Her mother stopped so fast in the doorway that her father ran right into her from behind. Eva and Rynn exchanged an amused glance as their parents glared at each other before jumping right back into whatever they had chased her down for.

  “Eva,” her mother waved a fistful of papers in the air, “would you like to explain to me why we have received marriage proposals from thirteen farmers, three florists, and a witch doctor?”

  “Not that we’re complaining, of course.” Their father grinned. “All honest, hard-working stock these folks are.” He grabbed the papers from his wife and thumbed through them before pulling one out. “Except for maybe this witch doctor fellow.” He shuddered. “Never liked them.” He looked up at his wife in confusion. “Who claimed to be a witch doctor? They don’t even exist!”

  “Some poor sap who wants to con people,” Martin said.

  “Martin’s right. You shouldn’t marry that one, Eva” Penny said.

  Their mother briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. “For just a moment, let’s forget who you have proposals from, and let’s return to the question of just why you have been proposed to by seventeen men in one afternoon.”

  Rynn stepped forward. “It wasn’t her fault—”

  But Eva put a hand on her sister’s arm and pulled her back. It took everything in her not to cringe visibly at what she knew her parents would say, or to cringe at the fact that her father was delighted with these sudden proposals, but the sooner she got this over with, the better.

  “Do you . . .” She swallowed hard, as her voice suddenly fled her. “Do you remember that blue dress that you ordered for me?”

  “Yes,” her mother said. “Didn’t you go with the girls to get that finished today? I meant to tell you I was hoping to see it.” When Eva said nothing, she added slowly, “Where is it?”

  Eva looked at her feet. If this had been any other family, she wouldn’t be having this stupid conversation. What parents got upset when their children did something kind? In a small voice, she finally managed to squeak, “I might have given it away.”

  Her parents squinted at her then understanding dawned on their faces.

  “Oh, Eva,” her father groaned, “you didn’t.”

  “Eva! You know better! Mortimer hasn’t been around in over a year! What if he decided—” Then she put her hand over her heart. “Who did you give your dress to?”

  “Elizabeth White,” Eva mumbled.

  Her father rubbed his chin with his hand. “Isn’t she the one that—”

  “Yes! Yes.” Eva wanted to scream. “She called me Lumber Man the entire year I was ten because I was a skinny, shapeless beanpole who towered over everyone else. Now, can we please get on with this?”

  Her mother stepped forward and took Eva by the shoulders. But this time, her eyes were sad and gentle. She placed a hand softly on Eva’s cheek. “Did Mortimer visit you after you gave your dress away?”

  Eva’s eyes pricked, and all she could do was nod.

  Her father drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What did that blasted fairy do this time?”

  Rynn made a face. “He’s been experimenting again, and he got pretty creative. Even for him.” She picked her broom up and attacked the floor with a vengeance.

  “He . . .” Eva said softly. “He said that whenever I play the harp, depending on my mood, plants will either wither or grow.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It didn’t make sense.”

  “Well,” her father scratched the back of his head, “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  Soon everyone, including Eva’s brother and sisters, were gathered in her room all a
round her harp. Eva sat down and bit her lip. Her father held a baby pumpkin plant in a pot.

  “All right, Eva,” her mother said. “Let’s see what happens.”

  Trembling, Eva raised her fingers to the strings. But she couldn’t bring herself to play.

  “Pretend you’re at the Winter Ball,” Ellie offered kindly. “Pick one of the pieces you’ve been practicing.”

  Taking a deep breath, Eva nodded and straightened her shoulders. It didn’t matter whether she played now or an hour later, the truth would come out somehow. And so she began to play.

  About four lines into the song, her father let out a cry of dismay. “The pumpkin!”

  Eva stopped playing and stood to see what everyone else was crowding around. There, in her father’s pot, lay the baby pumpkin. Or what used to be a pumpkin, at least. Her stomach dropped as she examined the charred, crumbled remains of what had been a beautiful little squash.

  “Father!” Her hands flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry . . .” She looked up at her mother, who looked equally shocked, and then at her siblings.

  “Didn’t Mortimer say something about making plants grow?” Martin asked. “Maybe if you played something happier?”

  Liesa huffed at her brother. “You weren’t even there. How would you know?”

  Martin scowled at his younger sister. “I listen more than you think I do.”

  “No,” Eva said as she sat back down at her harp, “I think Martin’s right. Or at least, I hope he is,” she muttered, placing her fingers back on the instrument.

  Which song should she play? But no, Mortimer hadn’t said to play something happy. He had said her mood had to be good. For one brief moment, Eva wished she had smacked the fairy when she had the chance. Leave it to Mortimer to base magic on feelings instead of actions. They were so much harder to control. How in the blazes was she supposed to feel happy at a moment like this?

  After a moment of thinking, she began to plug away at the harp again. Only this time, she kept her eyes closed. For when her eyes were closed, she wasn’t sitting in her room, surrounded by her family after being cursed by the family’s incompetent fairy godfather. Instead, she was at the Winter Ball, wearing her beautiful crystal-studded gown once more, and she was playing her music for the entire city, praying they would all feel the same way about the songs as she did.

  “I don’t see anything changing—” her mother was saying when Penny shrieked.

  “Out the window! Look at Mother’s rose outside the window!”

  Eva stopped playing and turned to look out of the window by her bed. She gasped along with her family. Their mother’s favorite yellow rose bush had climbed all the way up the sill and to the roof.

  “Of course that had to be the one to grow,” her father mumbled, but her mother only stared at Eva with a look of horror on her face. For a moment, no one said anything.

  “I’m not marrying any of those suitors,” Eva finally managed to squeak.

  “They must have either seen or heard the story from people who were in the square, the same way I did,” Martin said, glaring out the window at the rose bush. “They weren’t interested until they thought she could make them rich.” He turned to their parents. “You’re not going to make Eva marry any of them,” he paused, “are you?”

  Their parents shared a look. As she often did, Eva wondered what they were saying in their silence.

  Finally, her father slowly looked away from her mother and straight at Eva. “As much as your mother and I approve of the kind of fellows these gentlemen are . . . all except that witch doctor fellow . . . I’m afraid we can’t let you be taken advantage of here.”

  Eva let out a deep breath of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

  But her mother was already shaking her head. “In order to do that, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”

  “Leave?” Eva blanched. “You mean, as in . . . I have to move?” She looked around at her brother and sisters. “Away from all of you?”

  Her mother’s eyes were already filling with tears. And yet, she nodded.

  “Immediately.”

  One year later…

  1

  You Stay Out of This

  Jack paused on the threshold of the big tavern and dusted himself off. He’d done his best to wash and air out his father’s old trousers and what had been his favorite shirt, white with blue buttons, before the dance, but the long walk from his house to the tavern had made them all dirty again. Still, they were a far cry nicer than anything he had ever owned.

  Two sets of footsteps ran up behind him.

  “I made it first! You have to muck out the horse stalls tomorrow!” Jack could hear the smirk in the boy’s voice.

  “Did not! We tied!” A younger voice cried.

  Jack turned to face his brothers. “Look at you! You’re both filthy!” He knelt and tried to dust them off, too, but it was little use. “Did you look for every mud hole to splash in on the way?”

  “If Mother would buy us new clothes, it would be easier to stay clean,” Larry grumbled.

  “Well, she isn’t going to do that anytime soon, so you’d do best to try and keep clean what you have,” Jack replied, running his fingers through their fine blond hair in vain attempts to comb it.

  “If she worked more instead of staying inside all day, we’d get to go to more fun nights like this,” Ray added with a scowl.

  “None of that now. We should just be grateful she let us go out tonight. While we’re here, we’re going to have fun and not think dreary thoughts like that. Yes?” He did his best to put on a convincing smile. When they nodded, he gave them each a playful shove and led them inside.

  The tavern was already abuzz with people, drinking and laughing and dancing. Older women and young mothers stood in one corner and gossiped as they watched their children play, while most of the men stood over by the bar and drank ale.

  “There’s Reddick!” Larry pointed. “Can we go?”

  “Just stay in the tavern. No sneaking out for pranks. And Ray, mind Larry. Do what he says.”

  “Aw, do I have to?”

  “He’s older. Now go play.”

  As soon as his brothers were with their friends, Jack turned to search for his own friends among those drinking ale. Sure enough, he spotted two men waving him over.

  “Well, look who finally showed up!” Johnathon slapped him on the back as Jack raised his hand for a mug and then leaned back against the counter.

  “It hasn’t been that long. I came two months ago.”

  “No,” Kayden shook his head and took a drink. “You haven’t been to one of these since last winter. I remember because we’d just had that big freeze.”

  Jack nodded in thanks to the tavern keep as he took his mug. “Whatever the time, it’s good to be back.” He studied the people in attendance. “I see a few new faces. But where’s Aaron?”

  “Wow,” Johnathon shook his head, his red hair shining in the light of the wooden chandeliers above, “you have been gone a long time.”

  “I’m not gone. Just busy.”

  Johnathon shrugged. “He left early last spring for the university in Tulkarnie.”

  Jack nodded and swigged some ale, hoping his disappointment wasn’t written all over his face. Unfortunately, his friends had known him too long to be fooled.

  “You could go, too, you know,” Kayden said, his dark eyes intense. But then they were always that way. The man could talk about corn and look excited. “He’s only two years your junior, and you were always smarter than him.”

  “With what money?” Jack asked, surveying the room again. Anything to avoid looking his friends in the eyes.

  Johnathon hailed the tavern keep for another round. “I’ve heard some of the universities are always looking for unexpected students, people they can educate and shove at their kings as advisers. It makes the crown more likely to pay for the university’s expenses. Or something like that.”

  Jack shrugged. “I a
ppreciate your confidence, but they wouldn’t want a backwards farmer from middle-of-nowhere Guthward.”

  “You never know until you try.” Kayden peered up at him more closely, his bright eyes searching Jack’s face. “But we all know that’s not the reason you won’t go.”

  “He’s right,” Johnathon said. “You’re twenty and one years! How long are you going to let her run your life?”

  “As long as she owns the deed to the land.” Jack put his mug down just a little too hard on the counter. It clinked loudly, gaining him a quick glare from the tavern keep. “If I left, Larry and Ray would have to run the whole blasted farm themselves. And Larry won’t even be ten for another six months.”

  “You could always take them with you. Let your mother run that piece of garbage on her own for a while. It would do her some good to work, instead of letting you do everything around there,” Kayden said.

  “He’s right,” Johnathon added. “Besides, you’ve talked about having a family one day. What self-respecting woman in her right mind is going to marry you when your mother is still telling you what to do?”

  “Look,” Jack said, downing the rest of his ale in one swallow, “can we not talk about this? I came here to have a good time tonight.” As he spoke, a flash of gold caught his eye, and though he knew it was rude, Jack couldn’t help staring.

  He’d seen the young woman numerous times throughout the year at town-hall gatherings, the market, and even at a few berry-picking parties. She lived with her cousin, Tamra, and her husband and children in their farmhouse on the other side of town. He’d been trying to work up the courage to speak to her, as she was one of the few young women who hadn’t grown up with him and probably wasn’t aware of the war he and his mother had been waging for almost a decade, but every time he went to speak with her, she was called away, usually to watch her cousin’s children. And from what he could see, this night was no different.

  “What are you waiting for? If you want to dance with her, just go over and ask her.” Jonathan gave him a shove. He gave Jack an evil grin. “She doesn’t know your mother. You might stand half a chance.”