Quiet Tenderness
A Harvest Moon fanfiction story
By, Vivat Musa
Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or its characters.
Part 1:
The pitter-patters of raindrops are the chorus.
The thuds of the boot are the tempo.
The unspoken words the lyrics.
Together, they design a song that resonates from deep within the earth, stirring up memories that linger like dust particles in the air. The notes are low and sweet and wistful of days of a younger time, with a younger man. And just for a moment, an aged bartender reverts into that man, a person he had not seen in the mirror for many tiring years. A person whose future had seemed as endless as the rolling tides. That is the gift of music: the chance to recreate a time where opportunities could be found as easily as lucky pennies.
Then a shout slashes through the rain. The spell shatters.
The clock skips forward by decades: smooth and sinewy hands become etched with deep lines and calluses; the luster of a polished guitar becomes coated with dust. The boot stops drumming on the floor. His fingers press against the guitar strings, quivering before falling silent. Only the rain and his beating heart dare to make any noise as he leans forward, listening.
The shout comes again, audible even from inside the bar. Griffin knows that sound. The memory is as clear as if it had happened yesterday, rather than a lifetime of winters ago. It takes everything for Griffin to stay seated and think. Maybe it is the alcohol deceiving his aging mind. That belief dies when Griffin looks down and sees the uncorked-and untouched-wine bottle next to his barstool.
In the second it had taken to confirm his sobriety, the sound changes. This time it no longer echoes with memories. It is different and real, tinged with real sorrow.
Both the barstool and his joints creak when Griffin stands, leaning his guitar against the wall. He crosses the room in two strides and throws open the door. A shaft of light spills out from the bar at the same time the cold rushes in, nipping at his cheeks. Suddenly Griffin wishes he had grabbed his jacket before he had stepped outside. Rain drums on the awning overhead. The little bit of cover does nothing to prevent his boots from becoming speckled with black drops.
His eyebrows furrow as he peers through the downpour, but with only the watery light from the lanterns, he can make out nothing. He shakes his head, ready to go back inside and wash away his delusions with wine, when a flash of green shoots out from the darkness.
A choked noise rumbles in his throat as he jumps back. His brain calms down before his heartbeat does, and he realizes the green he had seen are actually a pair of eyes. Even in the middle of the night they sparkle as clearly as the sea. The face they are set in is pale and almost perfectly heart-shaped, adorned with the delicate features of a woman. And a very wet one, at that.
Griffin clears his throat, but before any words could come, a voice as sweet and high as a child's drifts from the stranger. "E-e-excuse me," she stutters, lips trembling with cold. "I d-d-don't mean to cause any t-trouble, but my b-b-boyfriend—" The woman casts her eyes downward. Even in heels she barely comes to his chest. With her head tilted, Griffin could see her locks of hair, golden despite its wetness, streaking down a sweater that had no business being worn in this weather. The thin material clings to her petite, shivering frame. Just a few minutes outside and he could already feel his bones aching with cold. Griffin could only imagine how she must feel.
"He's not…c-c-coming." She let her words fade with a puff of fog. The woman remains silent, but words are no longer required. Griffin may be an old bachelor, but he does remember enough to fill in the blanks. He fumbles for words to say, but they are blocked by the questions racing through his mind. Where had this woman come from? She is certainly a stranger to Forget-Me-Not Valley, and although it was not uncommon for the natives to travel to the city for work or friends, the reverse rarely occurred. The only visitors that come to such a small town are from the equally humble Mineral Town. Griffin did not recognize her from there anymore than from Forget-Me-Not.
Any thoughts of turning the woman away did not last more than a second. She is at a bar and Griffin is a bartender. And it is a bartender's duty to lend a soothing drink and a listening ear, even when the sign out front reads closed. Griffin opens the door wider, and clears his throat again. "It looks like you could use a hot drink, ma'am. It's awfully cold out here."
The woman's lips part in surprise in the way one unused to small-town hospitality would when confronted with it.
"You would-you would really let me inside?" she says.
"Would be a disgrace if I didn't," Griffin chuckles.
The woman hesitates just for a moment before whispering, "Thank you. Thank you so much."
Griffin simply tilts his head like a gentleman as she steps inside.