Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon, Karen, or any related characters or
events; to the best of my knowledge, they're all owned by Natsume. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely
coincidental. This story is based primarily on the plot of Harvest Moon 64.
Wine Red no Kokoro
by flame mage
Part 23: Maybe, Baby
**********
The next day Jack got up and went outside, and I decided to start the laundry. A few minutes later he came in, tossed a piece of paper on the table, and flopped into a chair, looking like a storm cloud.
"What's up, Jack?" I asked.
He demanded, "Read it!"
I looked for a place to set the clothes down, finally gave up and piled them on the floor, and picked up the letter.
It read: "Jack: Congratulations on your wedding. Dad."
"His only son gets married and he sends me a postcard." His voice was bitter. "One line! Not even, 'I hope you'll be happy,' or 'I'll come to see you sometime' or 'I'm sorry I couldn't make it.' Nothing!"
"You're going to see him in a year," I told him, setting the letter back down on the table and coming over to him.
"That's right." He nodded savagely. "He figures he's going to come out here in a year and drag me home like a little kid."
"So don't let him." He didn't say anything, so I continued. "You told me before that this is where you want to spend the rest of your life! You have to save this farm. Wasn't that what your grandfather wanted?"
His shoulders slumped. "I don't know what my grandfather wanted!" He put his head in his hands, his eyes staring out, hollow, between his fingers. "When he died...I was there, at his bedside. He tried to reach out for my hand, but he was too weak...and he said something, and I knew that it was something important, but I...just couldn't understand him..." He broke off. "Then he just...stopped breathing and let go. And I never knew what his last words were..."
There was nothing I could say. I put my arms around him and we stayed like that for a few minutes.
When I could speak again, I said, "They said at the wake that he left you the farm in his will." He nodded, slowly. "You. He didn't want to sell it or leave it to your father. He gave you this farm because he wanted you to bring it back. Do it for him."
He stood up. "Yeah. I'll do it for him--and to prove to my father that I'm actually worth something."
He squeezed my hand and went back out. From the window I could see him in the field, bent over with the hammer, the chips of stone flying. I smiled and picked up the laundry again.
And so the days started to fall into a pattern. We'd wake up and start work--Jack in the fields and the barn, me at the vineyard or running errands around town. Around the end of Spring, we had enough saved to spring for a greenhouse and still have a pretty decent amount of cash left, and after that it got easier to find things to cook with. We had a different kind of vegetable every day, always fresh. After work, we'd meet, sometimes at home, sometimes at the beach or the mountain, and then we'd go home to cook dinner. After eating, we might go to the ranch or my parents' house, and then we'd have our dance lesson before going to sleep.
I still waited tables at the bar a few nights a week to make ends meet, but I started to watch Jack do the farm work more often, and after a few days I figured out what I could do to help out. So I crated and shipped the eggs every morning. Occasionally I'd drop one...okay, or two, and once I fell flat on my face and lost all of them, but I got better fast. I was voted the Goddess of the Spring that year, and it was the best Flower Festival ever. I felt a little dumb at first, but the dress looked beautiful and the skirt spun around me like the petals of a flower when I danced, as I had always known it would. Jack and I danced together, the King and the Goddess, and I remembered what it had been like flying in the balloon with him at the Sowing Festival, just the two of us soaring above the whole world with balloons floating past us. It was the best Spring I'd ever had, and for the first time, I realized I loved life.
And so life rolled by--if not perfect, definitely pretty close—until the sixth of Summer.
This happened to be the night of the Bamboo Float Festival, which is a special festival just for married couples. The idea is this: you construct a tiny bamboo float, and you wish on it and then set it off down the river. If it stays afloat until it's out of sight, you wish will come true.
We'd made the boat the day before, and that night, after dark, we made our way down to the river beneath Moon Mountain. On the way, we passed the Mayor and his wife, who were chatting with Lillia and Basil, as well as Ann and Cliff. Cliff appeared to have developed a bruise on his cheek, but he was smiling, his arm around Ann's waist, obviously in love. There are all kinds of marriages, I guess. And I saw my parents leaving the house.
But by the time we reached the river, we were alone.
"How do we do this?" Jack wondered.
"Ummm..." I thought. I'd never done it before either. "Let's hold the boat between us and wish, and then we'll set it down on the water."
"Might as well try it." He cupped one side of the boat between his hands, and I took the other side.
"Okay, you first," I told him.
"All right." He closed his eyes. "I wish...I wish that the farm and the vineyard will be successful...and I wish for a family."
He nodded at me. I closed my eyes too. "My wish is that we'll stay together for the rest of our lives and have a family..." I motioned for him to bend down. Carefully, we knelt and set the little boat adrift on the river.
I looked at it as it picked up speed and sailed downstream. "You think it's against the rules if I catch it as it's about to sink?"
Jack laughed and shook his head. "Definitely not."
I was about to say something when I felt it. It was practically burning a hole in my stomach. I could feel it so strongly I could taste it.
"I could kill for some cake," I announced.
"What?" he asked.
"It's funny. I just felt this really strong craving for something sweet. I don't think I've ever wanted a pastry this badly in my life."
He put his arm around my waist and we started home. "Let's go home for now. Tomorrow, Karen, tomorrow we will go put Elli's future children through college."
Jack was out before dawn the next morning, doing the farmwork. I got the eggs--managed to get all six crated without dropping one--and, feeling restless, put in a few hours of work at the vineyard. The work felt pretty good, and it helped take my mind off the desperate desire for something sweet. We both finished up around noon and went into town for lunch.
"Hello," Jack called as we came into the bakery.
Elli came around the counter. "Howdy. You guys here for lunch? We have a special today."
"Actually, I just really felt like something sweet today," I told her.
Her face lit up, which was a sure sign that there was a new recipe in the works. "That's great! I have just the perfect thing for that!"
"What?" I asked, a little warily.
"A brand-new recipe!" Yep. I was the guinea pig here. Elli's philosophy is that anything you bake will taste good if you make it with love. This may well be the case for her, since Ellen and Jeff will smile and burrow their way through whatever sugar-drenched offerings she comes up with. The rest of us, though...we're just lucky most of Elli's experiments turn out well.
She brought a plate around. "Here. Jeff brought back some tropical fruit when he was down by the river fishing on Monday. So here's my special tropical cake!" I could just hear the little heart floating in the air after her sentence.
The cookies were orange. I stared at them. They stared back at me, the little round lumps looking ready to get up and walk off at any moment.
"I haven't got the look worked out yet," Elli explained. "Once I perfect the recipe, I'll shape them, maybe put some food coloring in to change the color."
My stomach was howling for sugar, and the master chef was standing there expectantly, watching me. Oh, well. Goodbye, cruel world. I picked one up and took a bite.
Jack and Elli both leaned in to gauge my face. I chewed deliberately for a few moments, then picked up two more and scarfed them down.
"How are they?" asked Elli.
"Mmhg! Gmmd!" I enthused.
"Really?" As a baker, she translated mouth-full-speak pretty well. "You don't think they're too tart?"
"Not at all!" I'd finished the plate. "Do you have any more?"
She shook her head. "I only made what I could with one fruit--that's all that grows there in a day. If people like the recipe, we'll plant a tree in the side yard...is there anything else you want?"
"The cake looks good," I said, still looking for something to shut my sweet tooth up. She brought it; I ate it. Nope. Still there.
Jack ordered an iced tea and sat to watch me devour a slice of pie, a second piece of cake, and half a bag of honey cookies. The craving was still there; eventually we gave up and left.
"I don't understand it," I said as we headed back to the farm. "After all that sweet stuff, I still wanted more."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Jack reassured me. "It's probably normal. Watch it go away in a few days."
But it didn't.
And then, one bright fall morning, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror and moaned.
"Whazzat? What's wrong?!" Jack bolted, appearing instantly behind me to steady me in case I fell.
"Look at that!" I wailed. "It must be all that junk food I've been eating. I must've gained ten pounds at least!"
He put his arms around me. "It's all right, Karen. The same thing happened to my mom once. She started jogging and worked it off in no time."
I whirled around. "Do I look fat?!" I demanded.
"No, you look great. You always look great," he added quickly.
"You're lying." I stomped out, yelling behind me, "I'm gonna go work!"
Which I did for a few hours, before giving up and going back home with a bottle of wine. I got back in bed, pulled the covers up over my head, and tried to sleep, but even that didn't work. Eventually I got up, sulky and tired, and stalked off to complain to Ann.
She listened sympathetically and suggested, "You should go to the potion shop."
"For what?" I asked. "It's not like I have a cold. And if they had a weight-loss potion...I mean, come on, look at the Gourmet judge." Yeah, I had it in for the Gourmet Judge. You should've heard what he said about my cooking at the last Vegetable Festival.
"You got a better idea?" Ann asked. "Come on, Karen, we don't even have a doctor around here." She paused for a moment, and I knew she was thinking: 'If we did, my mom would still be alive...' Then she continued. "If you think something's wrong, about your only options are the potion shop or your mother."
"I think I'll go with Mom," I told her, and so I hit the crossroads for the umpteenth time that day to get to the vineyard.
Mom was still standing by the stairs, as usual, but today she was wearing an old leotard, and she was practicing steps. Her face was flushed, and she looked beautiful. "Hi, Karen," she greeted me.
"Mom, I really think something's wrong with me," I told her flatly.
She stopped moving, instantly in Full Mom Alert Mode. "What is it, dear?"
I sighed and flopped on down lethargically on the blue sofa. "I dunno...ever since the start of summer, I've had this incredible craving for something sweet. But then I go down to the bakery and eat and nothing satisfies it. And then today I noticed...just look at this!" I exhaled and pointed to my stomach. "I'm putting on so much weight!"
She crossed the room quickly to feel my forehead. "Have you felt sick to your stomach at all?" she asked. "Maybe early in the morning?"
"Yeah, but that's just because of all the junk I've been eating," I told her.
Mom studied me thoughtfully. "I have an idea."
"What?" I asked, putting my hands over my eyes. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and smoothed my hair.
"This is just a hunch, Karen," she began slowly, "but if I'm right... I think maybe you should go talk to the midwife."
"What?!" I sat up violently, which was a mistake because it made my stomach ache again. "What are you saying?" I asked, a little calmer.
"The cravings, the weight, the morning sickness...that's the only way I can think of to explain it." She grabbed my hands and pulled me up. "Go see if I'm right, then."
The midwife, a tiny woman with thick gray braids, looked up at me. "Yep," she said, nodding sagely. "Yep. It's a baby."
It was almost dark by the time I got home, but then I checked my watch and smacked myself on the forehead. The seventh of Fall...it was the night the Kifu fairies would come! I dashed inside.
Jack looked up as I entered. "So you remembered, then," he said.
"Come on!" I practically dragged him out the door, Ann-style. "It's almost time!"
We ran to the vineyard. I could see the Spirit Tree at the edge of the vineyard, an almost imperceptible glow already radiating from it. I motioned for Jack to kneel just off the path and stay silent.
As we watched, a silver mist began to fade up on the horizon. Slowly, it came nearer, rising and ebbing like a tide of stars, until it dissolved into the hundreds of tiny fairies. Softly, beautifully, they descended and swept in to begin their work.
I stood, slowly, and came closer.
Jack followed, a few steps behind me. And then I turned back to him and I was in his arms and we were dancing again, the way it had been a year ago.
And there, surrounded by shimmering fragments of starlight, I whispered, "Jack...I have something to tell you..."
"Yes, Karen?" I could see the lights and the glow of silver on rich purple grapes in his eyes.
"We're...we're going to have a family, Jack."
His mouth opened in surprise and amazement, and then he jumped up into the air, a wordless cry of joy escaping him.
"Our wish came true!" He was shaking, and I realized both of us had tears in our eyes. "When?"
"Winter."
We both tried to speak; we both couldn't. Finally we just held each other, rocking back and forth while overhead, a thousand shooting stars completed their work.
Wine Red no Kokoro
by flame mage
Part 23: Maybe, Baby
**********
The next day Jack got up and went outside, and I decided to start the laundry. A few minutes later he came in, tossed a piece of paper on the table, and flopped into a chair, looking like a storm cloud.
"What's up, Jack?" I asked.
He demanded, "Read it!"
I looked for a place to set the clothes down, finally gave up and piled them on the floor, and picked up the letter.
It read: "Jack: Congratulations on your wedding. Dad."
"His only son gets married and he sends me a postcard." His voice was bitter. "One line! Not even, 'I hope you'll be happy,' or 'I'll come to see you sometime' or 'I'm sorry I couldn't make it.' Nothing!"
"You're going to see him in a year," I told him, setting the letter back down on the table and coming over to him.
"That's right." He nodded savagely. "He figures he's going to come out here in a year and drag me home like a little kid."
"So don't let him." He didn't say anything, so I continued. "You told me before that this is where you want to spend the rest of your life! You have to save this farm. Wasn't that what your grandfather wanted?"
His shoulders slumped. "I don't know what my grandfather wanted!" He put his head in his hands, his eyes staring out, hollow, between his fingers. "When he died...I was there, at his bedside. He tried to reach out for my hand, but he was too weak...and he said something, and I knew that it was something important, but I...just couldn't understand him..." He broke off. "Then he just...stopped breathing and let go. And I never knew what his last words were..."
There was nothing I could say. I put my arms around him and we stayed like that for a few minutes.
When I could speak again, I said, "They said at the wake that he left you the farm in his will." He nodded, slowly. "You. He didn't want to sell it or leave it to your father. He gave you this farm because he wanted you to bring it back. Do it for him."
He stood up. "Yeah. I'll do it for him--and to prove to my father that I'm actually worth something."
He squeezed my hand and went back out. From the window I could see him in the field, bent over with the hammer, the chips of stone flying. I smiled and picked up the laundry again.
And so the days started to fall into a pattern. We'd wake up and start work--Jack in the fields and the barn, me at the vineyard or running errands around town. Around the end of Spring, we had enough saved to spring for a greenhouse and still have a pretty decent amount of cash left, and after that it got easier to find things to cook with. We had a different kind of vegetable every day, always fresh. After work, we'd meet, sometimes at home, sometimes at the beach or the mountain, and then we'd go home to cook dinner. After eating, we might go to the ranch or my parents' house, and then we'd have our dance lesson before going to sleep.
I still waited tables at the bar a few nights a week to make ends meet, but I started to watch Jack do the farm work more often, and after a few days I figured out what I could do to help out. So I crated and shipped the eggs every morning. Occasionally I'd drop one...okay, or two, and once I fell flat on my face and lost all of them, but I got better fast. I was voted the Goddess of the Spring that year, and it was the best Flower Festival ever. I felt a little dumb at first, but the dress looked beautiful and the skirt spun around me like the petals of a flower when I danced, as I had always known it would. Jack and I danced together, the King and the Goddess, and I remembered what it had been like flying in the balloon with him at the Sowing Festival, just the two of us soaring above the whole world with balloons floating past us. It was the best Spring I'd ever had, and for the first time, I realized I loved life.
And so life rolled by--if not perfect, definitely pretty close—until the sixth of Summer.
This happened to be the night of the Bamboo Float Festival, which is a special festival just for married couples. The idea is this: you construct a tiny bamboo float, and you wish on it and then set it off down the river. If it stays afloat until it's out of sight, you wish will come true.
We'd made the boat the day before, and that night, after dark, we made our way down to the river beneath Moon Mountain. On the way, we passed the Mayor and his wife, who were chatting with Lillia and Basil, as well as Ann and Cliff. Cliff appeared to have developed a bruise on his cheek, but he was smiling, his arm around Ann's waist, obviously in love. There are all kinds of marriages, I guess. And I saw my parents leaving the house.
But by the time we reached the river, we were alone.
"How do we do this?" Jack wondered.
"Ummm..." I thought. I'd never done it before either. "Let's hold the boat between us and wish, and then we'll set it down on the water."
"Might as well try it." He cupped one side of the boat between his hands, and I took the other side.
"Okay, you first," I told him.
"All right." He closed his eyes. "I wish...I wish that the farm and the vineyard will be successful...and I wish for a family."
He nodded at me. I closed my eyes too. "My wish is that we'll stay together for the rest of our lives and have a family..." I motioned for him to bend down. Carefully, we knelt and set the little boat adrift on the river.
I looked at it as it picked up speed and sailed downstream. "You think it's against the rules if I catch it as it's about to sink?"
Jack laughed and shook his head. "Definitely not."
I was about to say something when I felt it. It was practically burning a hole in my stomach. I could feel it so strongly I could taste it.
"I could kill for some cake," I announced.
"What?" he asked.
"It's funny. I just felt this really strong craving for something sweet. I don't think I've ever wanted a pastry this badly in my life."
He put his arm around my waist and we started home. "Let's go home for now. Tomorrow, Karen, tomorrow we will go put Elli's future children through college."
Jack was out before dawn the next morning, doing the farmwork. I got the eggs--managed to get all six crated without dropping one--and, feeling restless, put in a few hours of work at the vineyard. The work felt pretty good, and it helped take my mind off the desperate desire for something sweet. We both finished up around noon and went into town for lunch.
"Hello," Jack called as we came into the bakery.
Elli came around the counter. "Howdy. You guys here for lunch? We have a special today."
"Actually, I just really felt like something sweet today," I told her.
Her face lit up, which was a sure sign that there was a new recipe in the works. "That's great! I have just the perfect thing for that!"
"What?" I asked, a little warily.
"A brand-new recipe!" Yep. I was the guinea pig here. Elli's philosophy is that anything you bake will taste good if you make it with love. This may well be the case for her, since Ellen and Jeff will smile and burrow their way through whatever sugar-drenched offerings she comes up with. The rest of us, though...we're just lucky most of Elli's experiments turn out well.
She brought a plate around. "Here. Jeff brought back some tropical fruit when he was down by the river fishing on Monday. So here's my special tropical cake!" I could just hear the little heart floating in the air after her sentence.
The cookies were orange. I stared at them. They stared back at me, the little round lumps looking ready to get up and walk off at any moment.
"I haven't got the look worked out yet," Elli explained. "Once I perfect the recipe, I'll shape them, maybe put some food coloring in to change the color."
My stomach was howling for sugar, and the master chef was standing there expectantly, watching me. Oh, well. Goodbye, cruel world. I picked one up and took a bite.
Jack and Elli both leaned in to gauge my face. I chewed deliberately for a few moments, then picked up two more and scarfed them down.
"How are they?" asked Elli.
"Mmhg! Gmmd!" I enthused.
"Really?" As a baker, she translated mouth-full-speak pretty well. "You don't think they're too tart?"
"Not at all!" I'd finished the plate. "Do you have any more?"
She shook her head. "I only made what I could with one fruit--that's all that grows there in a day. If people like the recipe, we'll plant a tree in the side yard...is there anything else you want?"
"The cake looks good," I said, still looking for something to shut my sweet tooth up. She brought it; I ate it. Nope. Still there.
Jack ordered an iced tea and sat to watch me devour a slice of pie, a second piece of cake, and half a bag of honey cookies. The craving was still there; eventually we gave up and left.
"I don't understand it," I said as we headed back to the farm. "After all that sweet stuff, I still wanted more."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Jack reassured me. "It's probably normal. Watch it go away in a few days."
But it didn't.
And then, one bright fall morning, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror and moaned.
"Whazzat? What's wrong?!" Jack bolted, appearing instantly behind me to steady me in case I fell.
"Look at that!" I wailed. "It must be all that junk food I've been eating. I must've gained ten pounds at least!"
He put his arms around me. "It's all right, Karen. The same thing happened to my mom once. She started jogging and worked it off in no time."
I whirled around. "Do I look fat?!" I demanded.
"No, you look great. You always look great," he added quickly.
"You're lying." I stomped out, yelling behind me, "I'm gonna go work!"
Which I did for a few hours, before giving up and going back home with a bottle of wine. I got back in bed, pulled the covers up over my head, and tried to sleep, but even that didn't work. Eventually I got up, sulky and tired, and stalked off to complain to Ann.
She listened sympathetically and suggested, "You should go to the potion shop."
"For what?" I asked. "It's not like I have a cold. And if they had a weight-loss potion...I mean, come on, look at the Gourmet judge." Yeah, I had it in for the Gourmet Judge. You should've heard what he said about my cooking at the last Vegetable Festival.
"You got a better idea?" Ann asked. "Come on, Karen, we don't even have a doctor around here." She paused for a moment, and I knew she was thinking: 'If we did, my mom would still be alive...' Then she continued. "If you think something's wrong, about your only options are the potion shop or your mother."
"I think I'll go with Mom," I told her, and so I hit the crossroads for the umpteenth time that day to get to the vineyard.
Mom was still standing by the stairs, as usual, but today she was wearing an old leotard, and she was practicing steps. Her face was flushed, and she looked beautiful. "Hi, Karen," she greeted me.
"Mom, I really think something's wrong with me," I told her flatly.
She stopped moving, instantly in Full Mom Alert Mode. "What is it, dear?"
I sighed and flopped on down lethargically on the blue sofa. "I dunno...ever since the start of summer, I've had this incredible craving for something sweet. But then I go down to the bakery and eat and nothing satisfies it. And then today I noticed...just look at this!" I exhaled and pointed to my stomach. "I'm putting on so much weight!"
She crossed the room quickly to feel my forehead. "Have you felt sick to your stomach at all?" she asked. "Maybe early in the morning?"
"Yeah, but that's just because of all the junk I've been eating," I told her.
Mom studied me thoughtfully. "I have an idea."
"What?" I asked, putting my hands over my eyes. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and smoothed my hair.
"This is just a hunch, Karen," she began slowly, "but if I'm right... I think maybe you should go talk to the midwife."
"What?!" I sat up violently, which was a mistake because it made my stomach ache again. "What are you saying?" I asked, a little calmer.
"The cravings, the weight, the morning sickness...that's the only way I can think of to explain it." She grabbed my hands and pulled me up. "Go see if I'm right, then."
The midwife, a tiny woman with thick gray braids, looked up at me. "Yep," she said, nodding sagely. "Yep. It's a baby."
It was almost dark by the time I got home, but then I checked my watch and smacked myself on the forehead. The seventh of Fall...it was the night the Kifu fairies would come! I dashed inside.
Jack looked up as I entered. "So you remembered, then," he said.
"Come on!" I practically dragged him out the door, Ann-style. "It's almost time!"
We ran to the vineyard. I could see the Spirit Tree at the edge of the vineyard, an almost imperceptible glow already radiating from it. I motioned for Jack to kneel just off the path and stay silent.
As we watched, a silver mist began to fade up on the horizon. Slowly, it came nearer, rising and ebbing like a tide of stars, until it dissolved into the hundreds of tiny fairies. Softly, beautifully, they descended and swept in to begin their work.
I stood, slowly, and came closer.
Jack followed, a few steps behind me. And then I turned back to him and I was in his arms and we were dancing again, the way it had been a year ago.
And there, surrounded by shimmering fragments of starlight, I whispered, "Jack...I have something to tell you..."
"Yes, Karen?" I could see the lights and the glow of silver on rich purple grapes in his eyes.
"We're...we're going to have a family, Jack."
His mouth opened in surprise and amazement, and then he jumped up into the air, a wordless cry of joy escaping him.
"Our wish came true!" He was shaking, and I realized both of us had tears in our eyes. "When?"
"Winter."
We both tried to speak; we both couldn't. Finally we just held each other, rocking back and forth while overhead, a thousand shooting stars completed their work.