A note from your author: I have tossed this idea around for a long time. Once upon a time, I thought to write a Harvest Moon fan-fiction. For some reason I thought it was good. Certain individuals reinforced this belief, and I dead-ended myself into a story that I really hadn't planned out. Though it started easily enough, I quickly realized I didn't know where I was taking the story and everything screeched to a sudden halt, and it was over just as quickly as it began.

I occasionally thought about plot twists and other such things but the prospect of having to build up to- and ultimately reach them, just didn't carry the same appeal. Since I didn't really have any planned course of plot leading the way in, my only option was to abandon it until such a time came when I would be able to properly convey my story.

However, my ideas and standards have changed since my first foray into fan-fiction 12 years ago and it no longer withstands my scrutiny. Therefore, I am restarting from scratch. I left the old work on the site for anyone who wonders why I don't like it and for nostalgia.

I will be taking liberties here. I'll be adding characters that do not necessarily belong, but they will be from the Harvest Moon series. There will be a more complete, expanded Flowerbud Village. I can't bring myself to deviate from the standard Season calender though.

Last but not least, I do not own any of the Harvest Moon intellectual properties, obviously, but disclaimers are pretty standard fare.

Chapter 1

Beginning of the End: A New Start -Part 1

Friday, Winter 28

5:47 PM

I opened the front door of my mother's apartment and shoved it back behind me, almost slamming it shut. On most days, I am a relaxed and easy-going guy. Not today. Ohh not today. As I walked in, I tossed the car keys loudly on the island counter separating the kitchen from the den, eliciting a startled reaction from my mom. She whirled around in front of the stove to see what the ruckus was. Her dusty blond hair was still tied in the ponytail from when she got ready for work this morning. I noticed she still hadn't changed out of the white blouse and navy blue skirt she wore to work either.

"Hey, be careful!" she called out, but in my current state of mind I didn't offer her even a glance back as I walked towards my bedroom. I should know better by now not to simply ignore her, as she quickly left dinner cooking on the stove to follow me. "Shane! What's got into you today? Did something happen at your dad's?"

"Mom, I don't want to talk about it! I just want to go to my room and get my mind off of it for a while," I snapped as I reached the bedroom door. I wasted no time opening the door and closing it behind me. I sat my wallet on the dresser, grabbed the stereo remote, and sat on the corner of my bed. I heard the doorknob jiggle once; I glanced across my room at the door, but it didn't swing open. I guess she was giving me space after all, so I clicked the power button on the remote and settled on my bed to relax as the sounds of music started to drown out my problems.

My name is Shane Parker. Born on the 25th of Spring. Twenty-one years old and struggling in that critical time between high school and the rest of my life. I stand at 5' 11", weighing in at around 190 lbs. Hazel eyes and brown hair and, come to think of it, it's about time for another hair cut. I usually just have Mom buzz it all off every time it gets long enough for me to have bed hair in the morning.

My parents, David and Lisa, separated about 15 years ago and I was raised by my mom while spending summer vacations with my dad. I did well in school, not at the top of my class, but not terribly far off either. College had been something I never could make a real decision on, and none of the jobs I had worked were right for me. So here I was, still living at home.

That brings me to today. My dad offered me a job at the local shipping company he managed. A great opportunity, he called it. When I arrived, I was presented with a broom, the prospect of earning minimum wage, and laughter from the other workers there. A joke. At my expense, of course. After I informed Dad exactly where he could stick that broom, I came straight home. Little did I know that my life was about to change forever.

I heard the telephone begin to ring in the den, but I felt no concern to get up and answer it. Anyone would know to call my cell phone if they needed to get in touch with me anyway. Probably some stupid telemarketer anyway. Always calling near dinnertime. Nonetheless I heard the ambiguous, muffled sound of my mother's voice through the wall, spurring me to increase the volume on my stereo. However, to my increased dismay, there was an abrupt knock at my door. Probably my dad on the phone. Either calling to apologize or, more likely, further infuriate me. It didn't matter to me. There was nothing he could do right now that would make me care about anything he had to say.

Though I didn't really want to be disturbed, I stood and walked to the door, muting my stereo on the way. As I expected, Mom was standing at the door with the phone when I opened it, wiping her free hand on the floral-patterned apron she wore when cooking. She reached the phone to me silently, which struck me odd. I covered the transmitter with my palm and gave her a questioning glance, hesitant about raising the receiver to my ear.

"It's your father. It's important," she said, with an ever-slightly shakiness to her soft tone. I rolled my eyes instantly and sighed in exasperation.

"I have nothing to say to him!" I growled, keeping my voice low so as to not let him know I had the phone. "Tell him I left. I don't want to hear anything he has to say!" I reached the phone back to her, but she shook her head. I sighed again. "Fine."

I slid my hand off the transmitter and held the phone to my ear.

"What do you want now?" I asked, almost shouting, my anger still fresh.

"Son, I have something to tell you," Dad's tone was unsettling. He, too, sounded a little shaky. I glanced at my mom, who had taken a couple steps back and had a look of genuine sadness on her face. She instantly reacted by raising her left hand to cover her mouth and lowered her gaze.

"Dad, what.. is going on?" A sinking feeling began gnawing at the pit of my stomach.

"Do you remember your grandpa, Jack, out in Flowerbud Village? My father?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I remember him. It's only been a few years since he came to visit."

"They're calling the family in. He's dying."

There was a loud clatter as the stereo remote fell and the battery cover popped off and sent the batteries scattering across my bedroom floor. I lowered the phone as the realization of what he was saying impacted me.

"What..?" I choked, turning away from my mother as today's troubles suddenly became trivial in comparison to the bomb that had just been dropped on me. I felt as if my stomach had hit the floor. "When did he.. I didn't know he was..." My voice was starting to crack, and a flood of thoughts and emotions started to tear away at every defense I had built up, my composure now destroyed.

"Look, I'm coming to pick you up. Pack some clothes, we will be gone a few days. ..And damn it, be ready when I get there for once."

I didn't answer him, just letting my arm fall to my side. Eventually the dial tone faintly hummed from the phone but I still stood there in shock. I felt my mom take the phone from my hand, and then when she pulled me into her embrace for a hug, only then did the flood of tears burst free. I cried like a baby in her arms, drawing a comfort from her silence that no words could have granted. The moment was cut short though; the smell of scorching vegetables wafted into my bedroom from the kitchen. We both caught the scent at the same time, pulling away from each other and I rubbed my eyes.

"Shit.." Mom swore, bolting from my room and leaving me to my thoughts. I slowly backed towards my bed and sat hunched over with my elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands. Instinctively, I reached to the side for the remote without even realizing I had dropped it in the middle of the floor. I was too disconnected from my surroundings to even care. I was descending into the swift rapids that were the racing thoughts in my mind. I was losing my grandpa. Damn it! He was dying right now..

I hadn't been out to Grandpa's farm in 16 years, since my parents split. I had always wanted to go back but with the custody arrangement, Dad never surrendered any of the time he had with me to my grandpa. Mom, on the other hand, chose not to have anything to do with Dad's side of the family whatsoever. Only in recent years did they even begin speaking to each other again. I was too young to understand what had driven my parents apart back then, but it must have been bad because neither of them ever told me. When they separated, Mom had moved as far away from my dad as she could afford.

My grandparents would visit me when I was with Dad for the summer every year until I turned 15. Then without warning, the visits stopped unceremoniously. I learned then that Grandma had passed away just before the start of that year. No one even told me. I was so angry, both at my dad and my mom. Dad had, of course, called but Mom simply told him I wasn't home and didn't give him time to explain.

In retrospect, I believe that is when Mom began to reconcile with my dad. Didn't matter by then. The damage was done. Grandpa never visited me again and life, as they say, went on. After that, Mom found a job here in Sarisburg, about 25 miles from Dad's house in Castorville. Even after I had graduated school, I never went back to Grandpa's farm. It wasn't even that I couldn't go; I guess I didn't want to leave the conveniences I had here behind. That's me. Just some kid spoiled on technology. I always felt guilty for not being at the funeral when Grandma passed too, and I felt that he was disappointed in me and maybe even angry. Just couldn't take that first step..

Now though, it was time to lay the past to rest. I would never again have an opportunity to see or talk to him and I could never forgive myself if I didn't go.

"Shane?"

My mind didn't really register that Mom was calling me, although I did hear her. I didn't even realize my bedroom door was still open until Mom sat beside me and put her arm around me.

"Come on, honey. Supper is ready," she spoke softly, the expression on her face that of sorrow and concern.

"Do you think he's mad at me?" I asked, wiping my misty eyes and placing my hands in my lap.

"Who? Your dad?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, my grandpa. I haven't seen or spoken to him in so long.."

"Of course not, honey.. Don't even think like that," she replied gently, though it did little to reassure me.

"But when Grandma..-" I began, but was immediately interrupted by Mom pressing her finger to my lips.

"Shh.. don't worry about that. Just come eat supper and pack for your trip, and not another word about it. Your grandpa, Jack, loves you very much."

I didn't protest, and Mom kissed me on my left temple before standing and leaving the room. Not before I wiped my forehead with my left wrist, earning a half-smile from her as she left.

Dinner wasn't bad. It was pretty good even. Herb-baked chicken with sauteed veggies and rice. I couldn't even tell the vegetables were overcooked; if there was one area Mom could truly shine, it was the kitchen. She loved watching those cooking shows on television, and she could truly make even a simple recipe into something special.

Mom smiled at me while I ate, a twinkle in her blue eyes. She took great pleasure from others enjoying the fruits of her labor. Or in this case the vegetables, I thought to myself, managing a faint smile of my own. Neither of us spoke during dinner, but the peaceful quiet was pleasant and not at all awkward. The words were there, of course, but we didn't need to speak them out loud. It is hard to explain it, but we just 'got' each other sometimes like this.

"You did great, Mom. It didn't taste burnt at all," I teased, as I gathered up the dirty dishes from our small dinner table.

"Oh hush, you," she scolded, with a mock frown. Then she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Shouldn't you be getting ready? Your dad will be here in about 15 minutes, you know."

"I guess, he used to be a real asshole when I wasn't ready to walk out the door the instant he honked the horn."

Mom chuckled and mischievously grinned.

"When you were younger, I would always make sure you weren't ready when he got here. It was so easy to push his buttons."

I sighed, shook my head, and laughed.

"I wish you had to ride with him all those times. He always complained that you were doing it on purpose. He was soo busy. Didn't have all day. All that crap. And you always told me he was early," I retorted and laughed again, laughing felt good.

"I'm sorry, honey," Mom apologized, still snickering.

"No you're not! Apologize with a straight face!" I accused, in my best over-the-top tone.

Mom burst into giggling and snorted suddenly, sending both of us into a fit of laughter.

"Have you been drinking, Mom?" I asked, catching my breath.

"Many times," she chimed in, still chortling. "Okay, I maaaay have had a little wine while I was cooking."

"A little, Mom..?" I sighed, "What am I going to do with you?"

"You, young man," she began, gesturing towards me with her left index finger, "are going to go to your room and get ready for when your father shows up. Now go. Your father is a very busy man. He doesn't have all day. All that crap," Mom finished with a surprisingly straight face. Then giggled and snorted again the instant she convinced me she wasn't going to laugh.

I laughed to myself as I went to my bedroom to pack. I took a deep breath when I got there; Mom always found a way to brighten my day when I needed it. I shut off my still-muted stereo and grabbed a duffel bag from the closet, glancing back and forth between the clothes on the rack. Indifferently, I began stuffing t-shirts and jeans into it; I dressed pretty basic and casual most of the time. That is what most of my closet was. T-shirts and jeans. I hastily grabbed a pair of black dress pants and a white button-up dress shirt as well, trying not to think about why I would need them. Hell, maybe I wouldn't. Miraculous recovery. Always think positive, right?

That's when I heard the 'trademark Dad arrival.' The sound of a car horn from the parking lot. No, not a quick beep. Dad laid on the horn for a full two seconds. Just long enough to be obnoxious and then a little extra just because it's Dad. I could hear Mom rolling her eyes in the other room. I zipped the bag up after double checking I had enough underwear and socks and slipped my cell phone and wallet into my pockets, making sure I grabbed my ear buds on the way out the bedroom door as well. Long trip, busy man, waiting all day and crap. A lot to tune out, you know?

I made my way to the front door, dropping my bag there. Mom was coming to me so I waited there for her and wrapped my arms around her, sharing a big hug.

"I love you, Mom. I'll see you when I get back."

"I love you too, honey. Now run along before your dad freaks out," Mom smiled at me as she stepped back, moving her hands to my shoulders as she did. She then stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my forehead. "You behave yourself while you're gone, alright?"

"Mom..," I objected halfheartedly, "I'm not ten. I am an adult, remember?"

"You didn't forget your little tantrum already, did you?" she smugly taunted, putting her right hand on her hip like she usually did when she knew she was right.

"Yeah, okay Mom. I gotta go. I'll call you when we're on the way back, alright?"

"I'm serious, stay on your best behavior while you're gone," she reiterated.

"Alright, alright," I relented, turning to grab my bag.

I gave her a glance over my shoulder and a half-wave. She raised her hand to wave back, but the actual waving motion never came. She was starting to miss me already. She was in-between boyfriends right now, and would probably stay in apartment by herself until I returned home. I once suggested taking Dad back and she told me to shut up and go to my room. I wonder what happened between them back then..

When I left the apartment, I saw Dad parked out front in his red Chevy Silverado. He instantly motioned for me to hurry up. Something about being within 500 feet of Mom clearly made Dad anxious. It's not like she is going to jump out and bite him. Hell, if she did he'd probably enjoy it anyway. Ugh never mind. Really don't want to think about that one.. I opened the door to the truck and tossed my bag into the crew cab behind the seat and climbed in. With a good swing, I pulled the door shut behind me and gave Dad a quick glance.

Dad was my height and, like me, he kept his brown hair fairly short. He maintained a well-groomed goatee though, while I was typically clean shaven. He was wearing a brown tweed suit, well most of it. His jacket was in the back seat, under my duffel bag. He was obviously more professional-minded then I was when it came to wardrobe. Something I really didn't envy one bit, preferring the simplicity of my t-shirts and jeans. Which I no longer allowed Dad to shop for ever since that time he brought me a t-shirt that said "I'M WITH STUPID" featuring an upward-pointing arrow.

"What took you so long?" Dad didn't waste any time getting started on me. "Do you have any idea how busy I am? I can't just wait around for you all day you know. I'll have you know..." Dad continued, but I wasn't really paying attention anymore.

This was going to be a long trip. Very long. Without a word of response, I slipped the ear buds in.

Closing Note: I actually had fun writing this. I figured for it to be a chore, and though it took longer to write this than I expected, I hope you're still reading and enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you think.