Fix everything up and probably still have a bit left over on the other side. Youâre also probably aware that I did nothing of the sort. Instead, I watched those lights flash. I reached out and took those beans. I dipped into my pouch and gave overseven gold coins. And the beans snuggled into my palm like little piggies snuggling into their mother.
ââJust plant them,â Jack said as he pocketed his money, âand youâll have more to sell than youâll be able to carry, plus magic besides.â And, clearly pleased with himself, Jack went whistling off down the road.
âIt was hard to plant those beans. My hand didnât want to give them up. I sat and held them and watched them for the longest time, thrilled by the colors, loving the feeling of them against my skin. Finally I sighed, got up, and dug three small holes in the sunniest spot of my motherâs herb garden. I dropped one bean into each hole, although letting go of them was like prying gold from a dead manâs fingers, and I added a bit of water from the rain barrel.
âThe next morning, on my way to the necessary, something in the garden caught my eye. In the spot where Iâd dropped the beans, there were now plants. Three-inch-high plants, strong and healthy, with thebarest touch of shimmering black on the stems. I stood looking at them for so long, I almost forgot why I was outside in the first place.
âBy that afternoon, those plants were three feet tall. The leaves were glossy and flowers were popping out everywhere. Purple flowers, with mouths like snapdragons. I touched one and felt its warmth; squeezed its sides. It looked like a tiny lion yawning.
âMy mother had noticed by now. How could she not? There were aliens in her garden.
ââJohn? Where did these come from?â Sheâd spoken from behind me, and I must have jumped a good six inches.
âWhen my heart returned to normal, I mumbled, âLazy Jack.â
âMumbling didnât work. She heard me.
ââLazy Jack?â she cried. âOh, John, I hope you didnât pay him good money for them. Theyâre sure to be exactly the opposite of whatever he promised.â
âI didnât answer, which was a good enough answer for her. âOh, John,â she sighed.
âSince there didnât seem to be anything more to say, we stood shoulder to head (my mother is a tiny thing) and simply looked at the plants. In seven minutes I saw them grow another inch and a half.
ââJohn?â said my mother. Her voice sounded the way it did when she used to ask me about the girls Iâd been seeing, back before she decided she didnât want the details. âDid those plants just get bigger?â
ââTheyâre supposed to be magic,â I said, which was a rather feeble explanation.
ââSon, donât be ridiculous. YouâOh!â This as the bean plants jumped once again.
âI stepped back a few paces, moving briskly, and said, âLetâs leave them for now. Theyâre probably just fast starters.â I didnât sound convincing, not even to myself.
âBut my mother agreed, and together we went back to the house.
âThat evening, in the light of a waxing moon, those plants seemed to climb forever. They didnât need stakes, either. They were thick and strong and straight, and I couldnât see the tops no matter how hard I tried.
âBy the next morning the little lion blossoms were gone, replaced by the most beautiful rich-purple pods. They glowed with an inner light that we could see just by looking out the windows.
âMy mother followed me out of the house, close enough that I could feel her toes against my heels. Christobel, our cat, who had stayed carefully removed from the plant situation until now, walked on my right-hand side. We were all moving slowly, as if we could sneak up on the pods from their blind spots.
âWhen we
ââJust plant them,â Jack said as he pocketed his money, âand youâll have more to sell than youâll be able to carry, plus magic besides.â And, clearly pleased with himself, Jack went whistling off down the road.
âIt was hard to plant those beans. My hand didnât want to give them up. I sat and held them and watched them for the longest time, thrilled by the colors, loving the feeling of them against my skin. Finally I sighed, got up, and dug three small holes in the sunniest spot of my motherâs herb garden. I dropped one bean into each hole, although letting go of them was like prying gold from a dead manâs fingers, and I added a bit of water from the rain barrel.
âThe next morning, on my way to the necessary, something in the garden caught my eye. In the spot where Iâd dropped the beans, there were now plants. Three-inch-high plants, strong and healthy, with thebarest touch of shimmering black on the stems. I stood looking at them for so long, I almost forgot why I was outside in the first place.
âBy that afternoon, those plants were three feet tall. The leaves were glossy and flowers were popping out everywhere. Purple flowers, with mouths like snapdragons. I touched one and felt its warmth; squeezed its sides. It looked like a tiny lion yawning.
âMy mother had noticed by now. How could she not? There were aliens in her garden.
ââJohn? Where did these come from?â Sheâd spoken from behind me, and I must have jumped a good six inches.
âWhen my heart returned to normal, I mumbled, âLazy Jack.â
âMumbling didnât work. She heard me.
ââLazy Jack?â she cried. âOh, John, I hope you didnât pay him good money for them. Theyâre sure to be exactly the opposite of whatever he promised.â
âI didnât answer, which was a good enough answer for her. âOh, John,â she sighed.
âSince there didnât seem to be anything more to say, we stood shoulder to head (my mother is a tiny thing) and simply looked at the plants. In seven minutes I saw them grow another inch and a half.
ââJohn?â said my mother. Her voice sounded the way it did when she used to ask me about the girls Iâd been seeing, back before she decided she didnât want the details. âDid those plants just get bigger?â
ââTheyâre supposed to be magic,â I said, which was a rather feeble explanation.
ââSon, donât be ridiculous. YouâOh!â This as the bean plants jumped once again.
âI stepped back a few paces, moving briskly, and said, âLetâs leave them for now. Theyâre probably just fast starters.â I didnât sound convincing, not even to myself.
âBut my mother agreed, and together we went back to the house.
âThat evening, in the light of a waxing moon, those plants seemed to climb forever. They didnât need stakes, either. They were thick and strong and straight, and I couldnât see the tops no matter how hard I tried.
âBy the next morning the little lion blossoms were gone, replaced by the most beautiful rich-purple pods. They glowed with an inner light that we could see just by looking out the windows.
âMy mother followed me out of the house, close enough that I could feel her toes against my heels. Christobel, our cat, who had stayed carefully removed from the plant situation until now, walked on my right-hand side. We were all moving slowly, as if we could sneak up on the pods from their blind spots.
âWhen we
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