4: Harvest Festival

Mirabelle, Natalie, Taro and Julia were all waiting at the dock when I got off the boat that night. I'd originally planned to stay in the city one more night – I wasn't sure how long it would take to gather all my belongings – but I came back early.

There was no way I could ask Vaughn to let me stay at his apartment again, especially after the previous incident. Questions were still bouncing around in my head, but thinking about them was pointless. It wasn't like I'd get answers anyway.

I couldn't ask Vaughn, I couldn't ask Julia, I couldn't ask Mirabelle . . . and I doubted anyone else on the Island knew.

I was probably getting worked up over nothing. Everybody has pictures in their houses; maybe he'd just placed it there until he found a better place to put it. Maybe the girl in the picture was nobody important at all.

But then I remembered what he'd said. "That drawer was closed for a reason."

And then when I'd asked him what that reason was – stupidly – he'd snapped, "None of your damn business."

So it wasn't nothing. It meant something to him. I also remembered what I'd had little time to ponder over before: thinking that the girl's features were vaguely familiar, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

Thinking about it is pointless, I reminded myself yet again. If I mused over it too much, I'd drive myself insane. And there were much bigger things to be considering now; my new life, for instance.

The desire to succeed was gnawing at me mercilessly, and I was eager to get started. A small part of me was annoyed because it knew most of my impatience came from simply wanting to prove Vaughn wrong. And that was stupid. Because I didn't care what he thought.

Did I?

I scowled to myself as I was walking towards the dock and the Island residents. This was exactly the sort of thing that wasn't supposed to happen – he wasn't supposed to get inside my head, to infuriate me and make me wonder about things that really weren't my business at all.

"Hi, Chelsea!" Julia said, happily throwing her arms around me.

I hugged her back for a moment, and then stepped away. I had my rucksack with me, but I also had a black shoulder back containing everything I'd gotten from my parents' house.

"You ready for lessons, girlie?" Taro asked, leaning on the gnarled old cane.

I nodded. "Yup."

"Follow me, then."

"Come by the Shop afterwards, Chelsea," Mirabelle said sweetly, "I'll make us lunch."

I thanked her and followed Taro to the old farm, where lessons would soon begin.

***

Though Taro knew a lot of things – and was a good teacher – it became apparent to me after approximately three minutes with him that he was also very bossy.

For the next week, I learned how to do a lot of things – how to properly till the land, how much water to give crops, and Denny was trying to teach me how to fish after I bought a fishing pole from the lumbering carpenter, Gannon.

I hung around Julia whenever I could, and sometimes Natalie as well. I gathered pretty fall flowers and gave them to my friends; they were the best thank you I could give for their kind welcome and wonderful offer. Both of them found sunstones over the course of the next week, and they immediately gave them to me.

Taro had given the sunstone he'd first shone me before I went back to the city, so I currently had three. I only needed a few more to raise Volcano Island. But I wasn't really raising this particular Island first under my own free will.

Regis had come looking for me on several occasions, asking that I raise it first.

"If there are riches here like my instincts tell me," said the creepy man, "you can bet they'll be on Volcano Island. Who knows what sort of valuable treasures are trapped within its depths?"

I'd shuddered and promised to get his Island first, if only to get away from him as soon as possible. But he'd been breathing down my neck for the past few days, dropping subtle hints about how I shouldn't change my mind.

I worked like mad this particular week; it was around the middle of Fall now and the crops needed more water than they would typically need during this season because of the abnormally high temperatures.

When I woke up on Monday, the first thing I had planned – after watering the crops, of course – was to go to Meadow Island and attempt to contact a Harvest Sprite. Taro had approached me once and told me that, if I went there, sometimes the little men would appear and offer helpful advice about where to find more sunstones.

I'd had difficulty resisting the urge to roll my eyes; I just didn't believe in Harvest Sprites, any more than I believed in the Harvest Goddess. Both of those things were just old folk tales made up to entertain the Islanders.

Still, I wanted to appease the old man, so I was going to try. I hurried up to Kirk and asked him to take me to my destination. When I arrived, I took a moment to simply walk around the huge, wide open space.

There had never been such an enormous clearing in the city – the land had numerous buildings, restaurants and condos everywhere. It was surprising enough if someone owned a backyard. The air was a bit to warm for my taste, but it was peaceful to walk around in the sun and listen to the waves of the ocean crash against the Island.

Finally, though, I allowed my eyes to focus on the beautiful white shrine set at the northernmost point of Meadow Island. Hesitantly, I approached it, looking around for a sign or something that would tell me how to summon Harvest Sprites.

My efforts were proved unnecessary, though, because, as I watched, a shape began to form before my eyes. One moment he was wasn't there, and the next, he was. The Harvest Sprite was dressed in bright blue clothes and a tall, pointed hat.

He smiled at me, flashing a set of brilliantly white baby teeth. I stumbled back, stunned. I'd expected this whole idea to be a complete waste of time, but apparently I was wrong.

Apparently Harvest Sprites did exist.

Or perhaps my mind had snapped from stress and I was suffering a delusion. I hoped desperately that it wasn't the latter. As I studied the little face closer, I saw that it was distinctly feminine. Long black eyelashes, small red lips, and little pink cheeks – it was a female Harvest Sprite.

"Good morning, Chelsea," she said nicely.

If I'd had any doubt about her gender from my observations, it was confirmed for me when she spoke – her voice was high and melodic, like a bell.

I managed to find my voice. "Um, hi."

"I'm Vi. What can I do for you today?" she asked professionally.

"Erm . . ." I looked away, embarrassed to be asking for information from a stranger. "I was told that you might know where I can find more sunstones," I mumbled.

She laughed sweetly. "Oh, of course. Check the bushes set between Chen's and Mirabelle's Shop. You might also look around the well in front of Gannon's home."

I blinked, surprised she'd told me so willingly and nicely. "Oh. Well . . . thanks." I turned and began walking away.

"Chelsea!" Vi called after me. I turned reluctantly.

"Yes?"

"Building friendships and getting close to the Islanders might help you as well. You never know when they'll find what you want," she said.

"Any one of them would give a sunstone to me right away, no matter how little they know about me. They know I'm just trying to raise the other Islands," I argued.

Vi chuckled and raised a delicate eyebrow. "They would, would they? Sunstones are very beautiful, Chelsea. What's the harm in keeping only one?"

I paused and considered what she was saying. "You're right," I admitted. I'd be tempted to keep one myself, if I wasn't so focused on my goal.

Vi nodded, satisfied. "See you. Perhaps when you raise Mystic Islands and meet the Harvest Goddess, my companions and I will be more inclined to show you where we live."

I shrugged. "Whatever you want," I said, put off by the mention of the Harvest Goddess. On that note, Vi smiled politely, and then disappeared into thin air.

As soon as I got back to Vendure Island, I began searching. First, I looked around the bushes between the Shops. I found a sunstone entangled in the roots of the third bush; I had to take a knife and cut it free.

But when I held in my hands at last, my smile stretched from ear to ear. I hurried to the well outside Gannon's house, sure I would find another treasure. And I did; the second sunstone was resting at the bottom of the bucket hanging inside the well.

Joyfully, I put the two new stones with the rest; I would raise Volcano Island in the morning.

***

I'd been foraging for many things and shipping them in the past week to make money. They were about half my income right now – the other half was the small fish I caught with Denny's assistance. I gathered wild herbs, chestnuts and sea urchins.

I also fashioned material stone and lumber from the branches and boulders that were lying around the Island without any apparent purpose. The money was good, and I if I kept it up and combined it with the money got from my crops, it would be enough to work with, enough to start a ranch with.

I was going to buy a chicken coop first – chickens were the easiest livestock to care for, and it didn't cost much to feed them if you had a little fence to let them outside. Yes, I liked to think I was doing well, especially after only one week.

One of the disadvantages to shipping everything edible, however, was that I grew hungry often, and I didn't want to use my money to buy things from the Café or the Diner. I never allowed the hunger to get so bad I passed out or get painful, but still . . .

On this particular Monday afternoon, my stomach was twisting and growling at me, demanding I eat something. I ate a small wild herb I'd saved, but it did nothing but wet my appetite.

Grudgingly, I admitted to myself that I'd have to ask Julia for food again. Honestly, I hated asking anybody to do anything for me, but if I went much longer without a meal, I wouldn't be able to think straight.

Mirabelle wasn't behind the counter when I went into the Animal Shop, and there was a divine smell coming from the kitchen. I heard two voices coming from there, and when I heard the second, I froze.

"Vaughn, can't you stay this one time? You're never on the Islands when all the good festivals happen," Julia was saying persuasively.

"I'm around often enough," Vaughn's voice grumbled back.

My stomach twisted again, but this time it had nothing to do with hunger. Flashes of our previous meeting went through my head, along with the same questions I'd been ignoring for the past week.

It was amazing how simply hearing his voice could bring on such a reaction.

"But the Harvest Festival will be so fun," Julia whined, "Pierre is bringing some special spices to make it even better than it was last year."

"No, Julia. I have other business to take care of that day anyway," Vaughn snapped.

I almost turned around and walked back out, but the hunger wouldn't let me. So, I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen with my head held high.

"Hi, Julia," I said nicely, ignoring the urge to let my eyes flash over to where he sat at the small square table.

It irritated my how tempting the idea was. He'd been so cruel on the boat – just thinking about the words was enough to madden me. I wondered idly if I'd always experience such conflicting emotions every time I saw him.

Julia's cheerful voice broke through my reverie. "Hey, Chelsea. Did you find any new sunstones?"

I smiled widely. "Two new ones. I'm going to raise Volcano Island tomorrow."

"Why Volcano Island?" Julia wondered, carrying the pot of boiling noodles over to the sink, and then dumping them into a colander.

"If I raise the Island he wants, Regis will stop bugging me," I mumbled, shuddering slightly.

Julia laughed. "Regis is harmless, you know. A little disconcerting, I'll admit, but . . ." She shrugged.

I shrugged, too, and looked away, mumbling "Sure" under my breath.

Just then, Mirabelle walked into the kitchen with a happy grin. "Good afternoon, Chelsea. Staying for lunch?"

I blushed slightly and stared at my shoes, losing my nerve. "No . . . it's alright . . ."

"Nonsense, you'll stay. Julia always makes too much food anyway." Mirabelle laughed and sat down beside her nephew; Vaughn was staring at the window, but he must have felt my eyes on him, because he glanced my way.

I was surprised to see that he didn't look truly irritated; merely curious. Of what? I wondered to myself. I dared to stare at him for just a few moments, marveling yet again what an odd and beautiful color his eyes were.

Finally, though, I had to look away, because Mirabelle was motioning for me to sit by her.

"I made spaghetti," Julia announced, setting down the plates.

I began eating a bit sooner and faster than necessary, but I couldn't help it. None of the others commented on my table manners, to my relief.

"Mom," Julia said, sitting down between Vaughn and myself, "I was asking my dear cousin if he'd stay on the Islands the day of the Harvest Festival. It's going to be extra delicious this year, because of Pierre's new spices. But he keeps saying no."

"Oh really?" Mirabelle asked, smirking at her nephew.

Vaughn sighed heavily. "I have things to do that day, Mirabelle."

"That's all you ever do, Vaughn – work, work, work," Julia complained, "Loosen up once in a while."

He didn't answer.

"I think it would be good for you, dear. Please do stay with us," his Aunt asked sweetly.

"I can't."

"Your boss will understand – he thinks you're a workaholic, too. He'd be delighted if you took a day off to do something enjoyable," Mirabelle insisted, "If you stay this time, I won't ask again, I promise."

Vaughn's eyes instantly narrowed suspiciously. "Never again?"

Mirabelle chuckled. "Never again, dear," she assured.

He nodded once, and went back to eating.

"Sabrina will be there," said Julia softly.

Vaughn looked deep in thought for a minute, but then he shrugged and looked uninterested again. My mind went into overdrive without my permission. Sabrina? As in, Regis' daughter, the shy girl with black hair and glasses? I leaned back in my chair, frowning slightly.

Was he with her?

Or was Julia just attempting to play matchmaker?

I tried to picture the two of them together; kissing, holding hands, smiling and laughing, the way a normal couple does. The very idea of Vaughn laughing in itself was difficult to picture, but picturing him laughing with someone else was even harder.

Especially Sabrina.

As far as I could tell, she was a shy, respectful girl who obeyed her father's every wish. No, the two of them didn't belong together. They just didn't. Still, I found myself wondering if they were together, if something would happen . . . but of course, there was that one familiar question too, one that I often asked myself whenever Vaughn was around.

Why do I care?

***

The pot that was placed in the exact center of Meadow Island on the day of the Harvest Festival was something to see. I didn't even know a pot could be so big. Everyone had brought something nice along with them to contribute to the stew, and the aroma coming from it was almost intoxicating.

I myself had simply purchased some buckwheat noodles from the Diner and was carrying them with me in little Styrofoam boxes. Pierre had made good on his promise; the spices he brought were very rare, he said, and they tasted absolutely heavenly.

Everyone I knew on these Islands was gathered around the pot, eyeing it hungrily.

Vaughn, I noticed, was sitting next to his Aunt and his cousin, looking bored. Soon after the buckwheat noodles slid into the pot, Taro announced that it was time to begin. Everyone got a good-sized bowl, and it was filled by Felicia with a bright red ladle.

I wanted to sit by Julia, but the presence of her cousin would fluster me, no doubt. Just as I was turning away, though, she saw me. "Chelsea! Come over here!"

I walked over to them, managing a smile.

"Eat with us," Julia commanded, patting the grass next to her.

"It'll be evening soon, and the temperature will go down, so eating here will be more comfortable," Mirabelle commented, sipping the broth of the stew.

I sat in between Vaughn and Julia, and it was impossible not to be aware of him, sitting so close, silently as usual.

"Did you say hello to Sabrina, Vaughn?" Julia prodded gently.

"Yes," he replied curtly.

Julia sighed and moved the vegetables around in her bowl, obviously discouraged. As evening drew closer and everyone was going to get seconds, Pierre came around with a large bottle of red wine.

A few people accepted – Vaughn among them – and when the child-like chef asked me, I shrugged. "Sure."

Vaughn's eyes were instantly on my face. "You old enough?" he asked.

I bristled and snapped, "Yes, I'm old enough. I'm twenty one."

Pierre waited through our little exchange, before shrugging and giving me a tall pretty glass with the red wine inside.

Vaughn's gaze lingered on me disapprovingly. "Doesn't take much of that stuff to get someone like you drunk, you know," he said.

I pursed my lips. "Even if I did, it wouldn't be your business, now would it?" I wanted to say something hurtful, but I doubted there was anything I could say that would affect him as deeply as his words on the boat had affected me.

This fact irritated me beyond belief. I began to sip the wine. It didn't taste as bad as I thought it would.

Natalie came over to where we sat and made small talk, dropping her voice whenever she spoke of Pierre, almost shouting when she talked about how clumsy her brother was.

"He's not that bad, Natalie," Julia defended, "Elliot is actually very cute."

Natalie almost chocked on her stew. "To each his own, I guess," she mumbled.

I offered my opinion occasionally, and they listened to everything I had to say, but as I took more and more sips from my glass, my mind began to feel fuzzy, so I spoke less often.

Vaughn stared out the ocean a lot, but every so often his gaze flickered over to me, his expression almost worried. By the time I was finished with this very tall glass, it was as if a haze had settled over my brain. I wasn't thinking clearly at all.

So after everyone had cleaned up and Taro told everyone to head home for the night, I had to replay his words in my head for a few minutes before I grasped what they meant. Julia had gone had gone off early with Elliot, and Mirabelle was on the other side of the Island, laughing with Felicia and Chen.

The fog was so thick – it was almost as if I was half-asleep. Vaughn got to his feet and brushed off his clothes, sighing when he looked at me.

"Feel okay?" he asked.

"Of course I do," I snapped, but the words came out slurred and funny. I got to my feet slowly, staggering slightly.

He smirked. "Walk in a straight line," he challenged.

I blinked, and took a step forward. How was I supposed to walk straight when my brain seemed to be disconnected from my body? After about four steps, I thought I was doing pretty well…but then somehow my right foot tripped over my left and I fell to the ground with a loud thump.

I blinked again and saw someone standing above me. I saw several of that person at once before the images came together to make one picture.

"Can you . . ." Vaughn sighed. "Can you make it home?"

"Yes," I garbled.

I got to my feet again and managed to make it to the bridge. Lethargically, I trudged forward, in the bridge's general direction. Somehow my feet took me to the Island's edge rather than my destination; my foot came down on empty air and I was falling forward, towards the ocean. I felt an arm around my waist, jerking me back.

Disoriented by the suddenness, I leaned backward, against whoever had caught me.

Vaughn supported my weight for a moment before sighing again. "Come on – let's get you home."

I felt his hands under the backs of my knees, under my shoulders, and I didn't even try to resist him picking me up. I didn't want to walk anymore. He attempted to carry me with his arms outstretched, but it was too much weight, so he grudgingly held me against his chest. I sighed and allowed my head to rest on him.

Some small part of my mind that was still sane wondered what the other Islanders would make of Vaughn carrying me away from the Harvest Festival, but decided that it really didn't matter. He carried me all the way home, even holding me to him while Kirk took us to Vendure Island.

As we began walking towards my land from there, passing Pierre's house, I thought about how nice-looking he was, especially in this light. I found myself wondering what it might be like to kiss him. I didn't even stop to tell myself to stop thinking about it, because it was pointless. I simply didn't have the energy.

So I was fantasizing when something occurred to me. I was drunk (like he'd predicted I would be, I added sourly), so I wasn't really accountable for my actions at this point, was I? I could at least kiss his throat, or his jaw, and claim to remember nothing about it in the morning.

But we were in front of my farmhouse now, so I never got the chance. He opened the door without even asking, moving forward in the dark, possibly looking for a light switch. Lazily my hand reached out and managed to turn on a lamp after a minute of fumbling.

He placed me on the bed and stepped back, burying his hands in his pockets and biting his lip.

I forced myself to sit up, and to form whole sentences. "See, Vaughn? You can do something nice for other people sometimes . . . I bet you're not as big of a jerk as you seem." Despite my efforts, the words were still garbled.

A slight blush darkened his cheeks, and he seemed to be looking everywhere but at me. "Go to sleep, Chelsea," he sighed, beginning to turn.

"Wait," I breathed, "Thanks. I woulda ended up in an ocean, if you weren't around."

He shrugged and placed a hand on the doorknob, muttering "you're welcome".

I was very aware of the soft, comfortable mattress I was on; the haze in my mind seemed to be growing thicker and thicker with every passing second. I was so close to simply passing out . . . my question came out unclear and indistinctly, but I think it was enough for him to understand.

"Vaughn . . . who was that girl in the picture? Was she i-important to . . . you?"

Emotion flashed through his eyes briefly before he pulled out that infuriatingly familiar indifferent mask. I'd been quick enough, however – amazingly – to see exactly what that emotion was.

Pain.

He stared at me for a long moment, possibly waiting for me to pass out so he wouldn't have to reply. My eyelids drooped and shut without my permission. He switched off the lamp. Just before I slipped into the sweet relief of unconsciousness, though, I heard his voice, soft and broken in the darkness.

"Yes."

A/N: I've decided to use Will. His personality is perfect for the type of drama I have in mind ;). Even though he brings about…problems in this story, he won't be portrayed as a bad guy. I do actually like him in SI. (Just not more than Vaughn, Shea and Denny. XD)