Chapter One
Rose woke up to birds chirping in a field, leaves swaying in a breeze, and a small hand tapping her on the cheek. She opened her eyes, only to see a fat little old woman looming over her, a worried look on her face. “All right, Rosie girl. Whatever you do, don’t panic.”
“Panic…?” She sat up, her muscles aching and stiff. She frowned at her pastoral
surroundings, trying to place them. Birds. Trees. Breeze. Deer and rabbits frolicking nearby.
Rolling fields full of flowers. This wasn’t familiar. At all. What was going on? “Am I in a Disney movie?”
The old woman gave a high-pitched, nervous giggle. “Oh mercy. That’s a new one. No, not quite, my dear. You’re not panicking, are you? We can’t start things until I’m sure that you’re calm.”
Rose looked around, squinted at the bright sunlight, then stared down at the small woman at her side. The woman was elderly with white curls drawn into a hairdo that might politely be called a cornucopia… if one was being polite. And she wore a bright green toga of some kind.
Under her arm was a purse… at least Rose thought it was a purse until a second glance showed that it was a book looped on a chain and settled on her hip like a purse. Rose frowned at the woman. “I think I’m calm?”
The woman beamed. “Good. I have this handled. It’s a big assignment, but the man upstairs thinks you’re up to it. He has a soft spot for people who have been in a coma for years and years.”
Rose yawned, stretching. She rubbed her eyes. “Coma?”
The old woman stilled. She stared at Rose for a minute and then shook her head. “I don’t think we’re on the same page here, dearie. Why don’t you tell me what you know?”
She blinked. “About what?”
“Oh boy. All right, honey. Who are you and how old are you?”
“Rose Hawthorne. I’m twenty-one. Who are you?” She rubbed her eyes again, still feeling a bit sleepy, as if she’d come out of a long nap.
“I’m Muffin, your fairy godmother. And you’re thirty. Sort of.”
Rose frowned and rubbed her ear, not sure she heard her correctly. “Come again?”
“I said…” The old lady yelled into Rose’s ear as if she were senile. “I’m your fairy
godmother and you’re thirty.” After a moment, she added, “At least, you were thirty when you died.”
“Died…?”
“Sort of. It’s complicated. Basically I needed a helper for a job, and you were just sort of lying around, so I thought I’d tap you to do it.”
Rose rubbed her eyes again. “Wait, what? I’m not following.”
Muffin rolled her eyes as if she were dealing with an idiot. “I’m explaining. Try and keep up.
I’m your fairy godmother. You were in a coma for nine years and then you died. I need someone to pluck a flower from the underworld, so here you are.”
“I died?” Rose clutched her chest, as if trying to determine if her heart was still working. It pounded in response to her anxiety as she stared at the elderly woman.
Dead? She thought back. She could have sworn that she’d been sleeping and just woken up from a nap. A really, really long nap. Muffin had said she’d been in a coma for nine years. She stretched an arm out and winced at her sore muscles. “I’m dead?”
“Not really.” Muffin waved a hand at her dismissively. “I fixed that for you. Can’t really have a zombie lumbering around here trying to do tasks for me, can we? I’ve tried it and it doesn’t work.” She wrinkled her nose. “Plus they tend to leave body parts everywhere. It’s really unsanitary.”
“But I’m dead? What happened?”
“Well, you were in a coma for nine years. I’m guessing someone turned you off, honey.” She patted Rose’s arm sympathetically. “Hospital bills get expensive.”
“I don’t even remember going to the hospital!”
“I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version. You drowned, got revived, coma for nine years, blah blah blah blah.”
Rose burst into tears. “Oh my god,
Rose woke up to birds chirping in a field, leaves swaying in a breeze, and a small hand tapping her on the cheek. She opened her eyes, only to see a fat little old woman looming over her, a worried look on her face. “All right, Rosie girl. Whatever you do, don’t panic.”
“Panic…?” She sat up, her muscles aching and stiff. She frowned at her pastoral
surroundings, trying to place them. Birds. Trees. Breeze. Deer and rabbits frolicking nearby.
Rolling fields full of flowers. This wasn’t familiar. At all. What was going on? “Am I in a Disney movie?”
The old woman gave a high-pitched, nervous giggle. “Oh mercy. That’s a new one. No, not quite, my dear. You’re not panicking, are you? We can’t start things until I’m sure that you’re calm.”
Rose looked around, squinted at the bright sunlight, then stared down at the small woman at her side. The woman was elderly with white curls drawn into a hairdo that might politely be called a cornucopia… if one was being polite. And she wore a bright green toga of some kind.
Under her arm was a purse… at least Rose thought it was a purse until a second glance showed that it was a book looped on a chain and settled on her hip like a purse. Rose frowned at the woman. “I think I’m calm?”
The woman beamed. “Good. I have this handled. It’s a big assignment, but the man upstairs thinks you’re up to it. He has a soft spot for people who have been in a coma for years and years.”
Rose yawned, stretching. She rubbed her eyes. “Coma?”
The old woman stilled. She stared at Rose for a minute and then shook her head. “I don’t think we’re on the same page here, dearie. Why don’t you tell me what you know?”
She blinked. “About what?”
“Oh boy. All right, honey. Who are you and how old are you?”
“Rose Hawthorne. I’m twenty-one. Who are you?” She rubbed her eyes again, still feeling a bit sleepy, as if she’d come out of a long nap.
“I’m Muffin, your fairy godmother. And you’re thirty. Sort of.”
Rose frowned and rubbed her ear, not sure she heard her correctly. “Come again?”
“I said…” The old lady yelled into Rose’s ear as if she were senile. “I’m your fairy
godmother and you’re thirty.” After a moment, she added, “At least, you were thirty when you died.”
“Died…?”
“Sort of. It’s complicated. Basically I needed a helper for a job, and you were just sort of lying around, so I thought I’d tap you to do it.”
Rose rubbed her eyes again. “Wait, what? I’m not following.”
Muffin rolled her eyes as if she were dealing with an idiot. “I’m explaining. Try and keep up.
I’m your fairy godmother. You were in a coma for nine years and then you died. I need someone to pluck a flower from the underworld, so here you are.”
“I died?” Rose clutched her chest, as if trying to determine if her heart was still working. It pounded in response to her anxiety as she stared at the elderly woman.
Dead? She thought back. She could have sworn that she’d been sleeping and just woken up from a nap. A really, really long nap. Muffin had said she’d been in a coma for nine years. She stretched an arm out and winced at her sore muscles. “I’m dead?”
“Not really.” Muffin waved a hand at her dismissively. “I fixed that for you. Can’t really have a zombie lumbering around here trying to do tasks for me, can we? I’ve tried it and it doesn’t work.” She wrinkled her nose. “Plus they tend to leave body parts everywhere. It’s really unsanitary.”
“But I’m dead? What happened?”
“Well, you were in a coma for nine years. I’m guessing someone turned you off, honey.” She patted Rose’s arm sympathetically. “Hospital bills get expensive.”
“I don’t even remember going to the hospital!”
“I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version. You drowned, got revived, coma for nine years, blah blah blah blah.”
Rose burst into tears. “Oh my god,
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