Ethan rubbed the back of his neck then retreated to the first row. He clasped his hands together and stared at the grooves in the floorboards, flexing his fingers as though he could wring the tension out through his knuckles.
One by one, the folding chairs around him filled. Neighbors streamed in with their chatter and casseroles and complaints about potholes. Voices overlapped, and the air was thick with the usual chaos, but Ethan heard none of it clearly. His mind kept dragging him back to the last time he’d stood in this very room and asked for something.
Back then, he’d wanted the bureau kept away. He’d wanted Honey kept away.
He remembered how bitter it had tasted when they couldn’t help. He’d walked out convinced it had been proof of what he’d always known, that asking for help was pointless. That it only led to disappointment, and he was better off handling things himself.
But tonight was different. Damn it, it had to be.
He rubbed his palms against his thighs and looked toward the front where Juniper and Poppy were fussing with the gavel and clipboards. He thought of Honey again, the sting of losing her still sharp enough to knock the breath from his chest if he wasn’t careful. And yet…as much as he missed her, as much as it hurt to picture her walking away, he couldn’t deny that some part of him was glad the town hadn’t been able to help back then.
Gavel in hand, Poppy strutted up to the podium, and Ethan straightened in his seat.
“Order!” Poppy smacked the gavel down, the sound cracking through the gym. “Brim’s Hollow Town Meeting is now in session! And unless you’ve got better cookies than the Hales, you’d best hush and listen.”
A wave of chuckles rippled across the folding chairs. Poppy gave a pleased nod, then stepped aside with a flourish, gesturing for Juniper to take her place.
But Juniper didn’t rise. She adjusted her glasses, leveled her gaze directly at Ethan, and said, “Mr. Hale?” In lieu of an opening statement, she was handing him the floor.
He pushed himself to his feet. Murmurs flickered through the crowd as he straightened, and the scrape of chairs echoed as people craned to see him. Ethan’s heart pounded in time with the second hand of the clock above the bleachers.
Dozens of faces turned toward him. Familiar ones. The neighbors who had dropped casseroles at his door after Leticia left. The BooBees who made sure his girls had mittens when the winter set in. Theo’s mom, who always slipped a pack of fruit snacks into Melly’s hand at school pickup. People who had turned a blind eye to mismatched socks and late arrivals, and who pretended not to notice when he was too stubborn to ask for help. They had given him more grace than he thought he deserved.
He cleared his throat, wiping his hands against his jeans, and forced himself to speak.
“First off,” he began, “I need to thank you. For looking after me and the girls this past year. I wasn’t good at sayingit before. Hell, I wasn’t good at even accepting it. But you were there anyway.”
A few people nodded. Someone clapped softly.
For a second, Ethan almost left it there. He could sit back down, pretend this was nothing more than a belated thank-you. His chest ached with the temptation to retreat, to swallow the words pressing against his ribs and let life carry on as it always had. Alone. On his shoulders.
But there was too much on the line. The orchard. The well. The only home his daughters had ever known.
“I’m not just here to thank you.” Ethan curled his fists to keep from shaking and in a breath. “I need help.”
From somewhere near the back, Theo shouted, “We’ll help you get your girl back, Hale!”
Laughter rolled through the crowd, but Ethan shook his head.
“It’s not that.” He swallowed. “This isn’t about Honey. This is about the bureau and the orchard.”
The gym hushed.
“They’re not just threatening a fine anymore,” Ethan went on, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “The bureau’s moving to seize the land outright.”
Gasps. Mutters. A rustle of shock.
“Why would they do that?” Juniper asked, her voice sharp but calm, as if directing the outrage before it could boil over.
Ethan shifted his weight, forcing himself to keep his gaze forward. “Something to do with the magic beneath the land. They say it isn’t safe.”
That broke the murmuring wide open as people began calling out toward the three Marrows whose magic flows beneaththe town.
“Juniper, tell them!” someone called from the second row.
“Clover, can’t you help?”
“Runa, you know it better than anyone?—”
