The moon was, at last, full after nearly two weeks of anxious waiting. Audrey, Jane, and their father gathered just past the modest garden on the side of the house. They'd chosen a space far enough from the tomatoes, squash, carrots, and potatoes they grew, just in case the bean proved to be the real deal.

The night was still and quiet as if nature held her breath. It was humid, moisture filling the air, and cooling rapidly from the springtime warmth of the day. To Jane, it was a tad chilly; there'd be dew on the grass come morning.

Audrey tugged on the hem of her sister's shirt. "Do you think we'll get a beanstalk? Like Jack?" she whispered.

"Maybe," Jane answered in an equally hushed tone. "It was dropped by a fairy, after all."

Their father stepped back from the modest hole he had dug. "Okay, it's ready. Audrey, did you bring the watering can?"

The young girl hefted the heavy container and grinned. "Yep!"

"Jane, you do the honor," her father directed.

Stepping forward quietly, Jane placed the bean in the hole, right in the center. He scooted the dirt back over it and then motioned Audrey to gently pour some water on the mound. She did so with a concentrated seriousness, making Jane smile and suppress a chuckle.

"Good job, Audrey!" she encouraged.

Her little sister nodded, and they all waited, reluctant to leave. "It all seems so anti-climatic," her father pointed out. "We've waited and waited to plant it, and now... nothing."

"Maybe it has to germinate, just like other seeds?" Jane offered, trying hard not to be disappointed.

He nodded. "Yes, I suppose so. Makes sense."

Still, they waited... and waited... and waited some more. Just as they were ready to give up, magic rewarded them for their patience after all. A rumbling began, deep in the dirt under their feet. It grew, and Jane urged, "Stand back! Something's happening!"

The three of them all scrambled away, working to keep their balance while being shaken.

"Look!" Audrey pointed at the small tendril of green that sprouted from the hole. "It's growing! It really is magic!"

A giant stalk grew, in a matter of minutes, reaching into the night sky. Jane craned her neck, trying to follow it up, but it was so high it faded from sight into the night. "Wow," was all she could manage to say.

"You took the word right out of my mouth," her father said, his head bent back in an identical pose.

"Jane! Are you going to climb it?" her sister wanted to know. "I want to go!"

"No!" Jane and her father immediately said. "It's too dangerous, Audrey," Jane explained. "Besides, someone has to keep up with things around here."

Audrey deflated. "Oh. I guess you're right." She brightened. "But, you're going to climb it, right?"

Jane grinned at her. "Of course! But, I need some supplies. What do you think I should take?"

Audrey looked up into the sky again. "Umm... rope, I guess? And food. Definitely food. Maybe a knife? You know, to cut the rope if you need to."

"Good choices!" Jane agreed. "Maybe a hat? To help shade me when the sun comes out. And I'll need to wear pants. I wonder if I should wear gloves, too?"

The three of them continued to gawk at the stalk and talk about what Jane needed until she laughed. "The pack will be so heavy I won't be able to carry it! Let's go and gather all the things and see."

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Shelly gaped at the beanstalk from where she sat under the bush at the edge of the yard, watching Jane's family return inside. This is bad. Real bad, she worried. She had been sent to recover the bean but had arrived too late. Now, what do I do?

Her mission was to make sure no mischief was afoot. It seemed an impossible task. At the very least, she knew she had to see if she could keep harm from coming to Jane; Shelly had dropped the bean, so now Jane was her responsibility. She fluttered to the window where she had made her escape on the fateful night and squeezed through the crack.

She breathed a sigh of relief to see the family dog occupied by Audrey's skritches. Even so, she stood very still in the corner of the windowsill, quiet as a mouse. Maybe even quieter. She listened in on the family and their packing.

"No, I don't think I will need to take a coat. I think if it had been cold, Jack would have said something about it," Jane said, turning down the garment her father held out to her.

"What about a cooking pot? You know, in case you get hungry and want to fix something?" Audrey asked, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Shelly saw Jane and her father exchange an amused glance. "No, I think maybe I'll take food I don't have to cook. We have some bread, cheese, and deer jerky I can take."

"Oh," Audrey nodded, crestfallen. "Yeah, that makes more sense."

Jane ruffled her hair. "How about you and dad go to the barn and find that rope and a knife for me?"

Audrey brightened and flashed a smile. "Okay! Come on, dad. Let's go!" She walked with a kind of seriousness that made Shelly smile. Audrey was a good kid, and she liked her. I should have given her more for that tooth.

Shelly watched Jane, now alone, began to go through her clothes. She changed first, putting on pants and a loose-fitting shirt. She picked out work clothes and packed them by laying them out flat, then rolling them up, so they took up less space. In the kitchen, she wrapped up the food she had mentioned, adding some dried fruit to the stash. By the time she finished, Audrey and their father had returned with a coil of sturdy rope and a sharp knife in a leather sheath. Jane slipped that onto her belt, then, as her last choice, put on sturdy boots.

She did a turn in front of Audrey. "I think I'm ready. What do you think?"

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on! This isn't a fashion show!"

Shelly giggled at the sisters.

Jane mussed her sister's hair again. Audrey swatted her hand away but was grinning.

"You're going to be careful, right?" their father asked, the creases in his forehead showing how worried he was.

Hugging him, Jane promised, "I'll be very careful, Dad."

Jane was ready to climb. Now, all she had to do was wait for dawn. She and Audrey fixed breakfast with their father and talked, wondering what Jane would find. As they ate, Shelly hid in Jane's pack and waited.

When the sky began to lighten, Jane stood beside the beanstalk again. Shelly was tucked away under the flap of the pack, sitting on the roll of soft clothing, munching on a piece of dried apple from the fruit. She settled in for the adventure.

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Jane concluded that the enormous green vine was even more impressive in the daylight. It went as high as the cloud it seemed connected to, anchoring it in place. She wondered if whoever, or whatever, lived at the top could tell they were no longer moving.

Audrey threw her arms around Jane's waist. "Be careful!"

She hugged her sister back. "Always." She smiled. "I'll try to bring you a present!"

The younger girl grinned. "Okay!"

She turned to the stalk and set her jaw. "Well, I guess it's time for me to go." She stepped up on the base and quickly found handholds. Just as she made to find her next footing, the stalk rumbled gently, and then she began to move upward.

She gasped. The beanstalk was going to carry her up into the sky by magic! Oh, this is so much better than climbing.

Up and up, the vine took her until she could no longer see her family, and still, it took her up. She had found a place to sit, resting in a nest of leaves that cupped just right to be comfortable and sturdy. She began to watch the cloud as she got closer, and she wondered where the stalk would take her. Jack had talked about the castle, so she assumed it would be there. I'll have to be careful; there's a giant up there!

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Orson drew up short as he closed in on closet number forty-two. A thin tendril of green with a tiny leaf attached curled through the crack in the door jamb. His shoulders slumped.

Dang it. So close.

He'd made it through forty-one of fifty-six closet inspections without incident. But, could it stay that way? Oh no. Can't have that. And on my birthday, no less! He heaved a sigh as he checked his watch. He was going to miss the laying of the golden egg, a gift his father had promised to bestow. There was nothing to be done, however, but to examine the invading beanstalk, documenting his findings for the castle Gardner and the Captain of the guard.

He tried not to feel bitter; closet inspection was an important job, and he was grateful the Gardener had given him a duty demanding his wholehearted dedication. This was a good way to garner his father's more favorable attention. But, with great responsibility often came great aggravation, especially on birthdays.

Despite the special day, he had to write the report. Which meant he had to inspect the tiny storage room to see what kind of foothold the stalk had managed to develop. I hate these things. There are always Englishmen! They might be small, but they're violent suckers. Not to mention sticky-fingered thieves. Orson knew his father, a giant of a man, would beat him again if yet another Englishman crept into the castle. If he were lucky, he'd be able to capture the thief before his father, with his infamous nose, smelled the offending creature.

He grit his teeth, curled his fingers around the doorknob, twisted, and yanked the rough-hewn wooden plank door open to expose the plant within. He heaved a sigh of relief at the man-less state of the thick beanstalk. Not that he was grateful for the presence of the magic would-be-conquerer vine itself, but the lack of farm boy brought a bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, the inevitable infiltrator destined to climb it had yet to breach their home in the sky.

His stomach flip-flopped when he heard his father shout, "Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he 'live, or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread." The declaration sealed Orson's fate.

So much for earning praise.

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