Well, here's my update! I won't lie to you all—I've been lazy. It's been finished for a week… but I couldn't come up with a good title. And, honestly, I didn't think very hard on it until tonight! But, all in all, laziness aside, I'm satisfied. Plus, I like the chapter title a lot better than the old one. Fits the chapter more! Anywho, read on, faithful readers, and do review! Makes happiness wash over me. But, please… there's not really any point in asking me specifics about my story in a review—not if you really want answers, anyway. If you must, PM me with your questions and I'll answer them… if the answers don't contain real spoilers.
Now… I don't own Harvest Moon or its characters. This is merely a fan work made to honor the great series of Harvest Moon.
Chapter 3: She Works With Eager Hands
A thin pillar of wavering steam rose from a bowl of oatmeal sitting on the circular table in the middle of Jack's house. The smells of apple and cinnamon filled his nostrils and his stomach growled. Without any hesitation, Jack plunged his spoon into his instant breakfast and began shoveling into his mouth. It was like an angel descending from on high, gracing his taste buds with the rich tastes of the first and most important meal of the day.
After a few minutes passed, Jack finished his oatmeal and leaned back, sighing happily and rubbing his stomach. He picked up a newspaper that he had dropped onto the table and looked at the front page.
Amnesiac woman thought dead for three years reunites with fiancé.
He flipped the pages absently, looking for anything that might catch his eye. When he found, though, that the local paper lacked comics, he sighed and closed it, placing it back on the table. He stood and stretched, groaning loudly, and looked at his watch. Celia would be arriving in only a few minutes and today he was determined to show her that Miles, his new four-legged companion, could indeed sit on command. The only problem, of course, was that Miles was incredibly stubborn on the subject of doing anything on command.
Outside, Miles began to bark excitedly and Jack smiled, quickly pulling his suspenders onto his shoulders and briefly checking himself in the mirror. He opened the door, his smile broadening when he saw Celia kneeling beside Miles, scratching him behind his ears. She looked up, seeing Jack, and returned the smile.
It had been a full week since first arriving in Forget-Me-Not and already Jack was becoming used to the small town lifestyle. Waking up at five in the morning was growing easier, and, often, people would wander onto his farm just for the sake of greeting him during the day. It was refreshing and energizing and Jack enjoyed wondering who would be visiting each day.
"Have you seen the crops yet?" Celia asked, excitement snaking its way into her voice, her eyes, and her lips. Jack blinked blankly at her and her smile grew. She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards his field, pointing at the parallel lines in the dirt where the tomato seeds had been planted. At first, Jack didn't see the significance of this, but upon a closer inspection, he found the source of her excitement.
Little seedlings, tiny green sprouts, had pushed through the topsoil and glinted bright in the morning dew. Jack's heart skipped a beat and his face split into a grin. His plants were growing. In another couple weeks' time (more like a couple months, according to Celia) he would be feasting on some huge, juicy tomatoes. Life was good.
His spirits rose and all fatigue disappeared. His lips curled into a large grin and he laughed excitedly. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Celia, laughing and hugging her tightly. After a few seconds, though, they both parted, blushing deeply, and unsure really of what to say. They both silently agreed to merely get on with the farm work. Jack began by pulling up weeds that were already threatening to overcome the tomato sprouts while Celia carefully and meticulously provided them with the ideal amount of water.
"It's hard work," she said softly, running the watering can over another line of tomatoes. "But you see why I enjoy it, don't you?" Jack nodded and gave another weed a tug. "It's more than fun for me, though."
Jack looked at her curiously and she smiled at him before pressing on. "All my life I've been a sickly child. I was a bit premature and my immune system has always been weak because of it."
"I'm sorry, Celia," Jack started, but she shook her head.
"No, no, that's why I'm here in Forget-Me-Not! My parents felt that the country would be a great way to build my immune system as well as teach me some important lessons." Her smile became a bit sheepish. "I'll admit; I used to be a bit whiny."
Jack began chuckling and shook his head. "Somehow, I just can't see that."
"It's true! I was a bad little kid—I was spoiled! But sending me out here to live with Vesta and Marlin—it's been an amazing experience, you know? My health's doing a lot better too—I haven't gotten really sick in a long time!"
"The country air, huh?"
"Some people might say that, but I like to think it's the plants. You might think I'm silly, but, in a way, I feel like plants are giving me part of their energy. I help them and they help me—we rely on each other."
Jack looked at her with a small smile and shook his head. "I don't think you're silly at all. Why would I?"
"I get a lot of strange looks, that's all." Celia blushed and looked back at the sprouts. "Well, I think we got these taken care of. Do you need to take care of Schala?"
"Yeah, I suppose I should," Jack said, looking over at his cow, who was contently grazing in the field. "I ordered a rooster and a hen, you know."
"Oh, really?" Celia asked, raising her eyebrows. "You followed my advice!"
"Yes, I did." Jack rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. "My alarm clock is ridiculously annoying, anyway. Five rolls around and beep, beep, beep! It just doesn't end—and it's a royal pain to turn off. Like I can find the off button when I'm too tired to even open my eyes!"
Celia giggled and grinned widely. "Well, I should get back to the plantation. Vesta's wanting to start getting one of our fields ready for corn planting and that's a lot of work!"
"Do you think you could bring me some other vegetable seeds tomorrow?" Jack asked, looking at the other two fields he had.
"Of course. I can't give them to you for free, though."
"Yeah, I know—but I need more to do. One field of tomatoes is giving me way too much free time, and this place doesn't have cable, the TV doesn't have a VCR, much less a Gamecube, and if I get grabbed by Rock one more time to hang out, I swear, I'm going to get Schala to sit on my face."
Celia giggled and nodded. "I will make sure to bring some, then." She paused, trying to word her next words carefully. "Do you want me to show you something cool?"
"Well, sure!" Jack said.
"Tonight, after dark, I'll come by your farm, okay? I think you'll like it." Jack frowned slightly in confusion, but Celia shook her head. "It's a surprise. Just be here, all right?"
"All right…" Jack said, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion.
"Good. And I need to get back to the farm, so I'll see you then?"
"Right. Around six, I guess?"
"Yes, that's perfect! Good bye, Jack!" Jack replied with his own farewell and Celia hurried off the farm, leaving him alone with Schala and Miles, whom he had forgotten to show to Celia.
"Tomorrow," Jack said, looking at Miles. "Now, sit!" Miles wagged his tail and completely ignored Jack's command. Jack sighed and climbed over the fence, intent on milking Schala for all she was worth.
Cliff Andrews walked down from his room in the Mineral Town Inn, yawning, but blinked in surprise when a very excited breakfast crowd in the dining area below greeted him. Nearly every table was full of the men and women of Mineral Town, heads all bent low, and a low rumble of indiscernible words being emitted from their mouths.
He stepped down onto the main floor and looked around for an empty table for him to sit at, but found nothing. Cliff sighed and walked along the outside of the room, reaching the bar, and sat on the far stool. He was separated from the other people at the bar by two stools and they paid him no mind, all of them content to whisper amongst themselves.
A pretty young lady with striking orange hair and a cute smile, dressed in a yellow shirt and blue overalls, stepped up to the counter with a notepad in her hand. However, she wasn't smiling this morning and her hair was pulled back in a much sloppier-than-usual ponytail. She looked tired. "Good morning, Cliff," she said. "Do you want the usual?"
Cliff blushed and looked down at the table. "That's fine," he said, but his voice was barely audible above the din of the crowd.
"What was that? I didn't catch it," she said, leaning a bit lower in order to see his face better.
Cliff nodded quickly and muttered, "Sorry." Ann took this to mean that he wanted the usual—although not without a small frown and a sigh—and jotted it down on her notepad. She hurried off into the kitchen and Cliff sighed, running his hands through his hair. He was such an idiot.
From where he sat, he could just make out phrases and whispers from his neighbors of two stools away.
"…says he might not make it."
"…his crop?"
"No idea. I suppose we'll…"
"Here's a coffee, Cliff." Doug, Ann's father, set a cup of coffee in front of him. Doug was an older man with a receding line of the same orange hair that Ann had as well as a bushy mustache.
"Thanks," Cliff whispered, smelling the coffee.
"Quite the crowd today," Doug said, smiling. "You'll find that whenever the village wishes to discuss something, this is the place to come. I stay up to date on all the news of town and never have to leave the building." He laughed, but it faded sooner than normal.
Cliff poured some cream into his coffee and stirred, saying nothing.
"It's not a bad life, really, if you're okay with hours of slaving over a stove and then, in the evening, breaking up bar brawls. I get by, though."
Cliff nodded and sipped his cup.
"Are you planning on getting a job here? Settling down?" Doug asked, leaning closer so he didn't have to yell.
Cliff frowned and looked at his tan colored drink. "I don't know," he said finally. He took another sip. Doug didn't say anything else, but didn't move away. Even though Cliff would have preferred to just say nothing at all, he felt it might be rude to say nothing, so he changed the subject to something Doug might perhaps like to talk about without expecting much from Cliff. "Why are all these people here? Because that farmer's dying?"
"I suppose it is," Doug said, standing up straight. "Enjoy your meal." He moved on to some of the other customers, and Cliff frowned deeply. This was why he didn't like to talk to people. He always made idiot comments that touched a nerve. What a stupid question! Doug and the old farmer were probably friends—it had to be killing Doug for Louis to be dying!
Cliff sighed and closed his eyes, forcing himself to tune out the inn's noise. Memories flooded his mind and he winced. A slap. A cry of pain. A little boy's sobs drowned out the voices—one male and one female—arguing.
"Here's your meal…" Ann's voice brought him from his memories and the smell of freshly cooked pancakes, eggs, and bacon rose to his nostrils. Cliff nodded, his face neutral and his eyes sad. "Shall I add it to your bill?" He nodded again, already cutting into the pancake. "Enjoy!"
Finally, Cliff sighed and looked up at her. "Thank you," he said softly, but just loudly enough for her to hear. Ann's face lit up at this and she set some napkins down in front of him before hurrying off to help another customer. Cliff finished his pancakes quickly and stood, pushing his plate forward to where Doug graciously grabbed it and put it at the top of a growing stack of plates that needed to be washed.
His head down and hands shoved into his pockets, Cliff walked out of the inn and into the sunshine. He found the streets empty, void of life on a morning upon which life should have been overflowing. Not a cloud was in the sky, the morning chill was fighting a losing battle against the midday warmth, and gulls squawked above, looking hungrily around for anything left behind.
Cliff frowned, but took a deep breath and turned left, walking slowly along the brick road until he reached Rose Square, a very large, open area on the edge of town. It was here, Cliff heard, that most festivals were held. However, festivals just weren't Cliff's sort of thing, so he really didn't care too much. Instead, he walked quickly through it, heading towards another street that turned left again.
It was this street that led him to his destination—a small church on the northeast corner of town. Just like every morning, he opened the doors and stepped into the dimly lit sanctuary, intent on spending his time deep in thought and in prayer, but found that this morning was indeed unlike every other morning in every way. Instead of being empty with the exception of the pastor, anyone who wasn't currently at the inn seemed to have holed themselves up in the church, praying in little groups of two or three.
Are they like this with every villager at death's door? Cliff wondered to himself as he turned and walked back out of the church. His heart sank and he walked back in the direction he had come from. Or is there something else going on that I just don't know about?
Van is coming back into town today. I'm going to buy a fishing rod—I'm sick of that stupid piece of crap I have now. I might as well use it to play fetch with a dog or something.
Nami held the pen above the page in her diary, nibbling gently on her lip. Finally, she shook her head, placed the pen down, and closed the book, locking its clasp into place. She shoved it into her bag, twisting and drilling it deep past the other few belongings she had, releasing it when she was certain it was surrounded on all sides by other things, hiding it from anyone that might look into her bag.
She stood and looked around her room in the Inner Inn, taking in the sight of two beds—one messy with sheets thrown about, while the other was spotless with the exception of a few articles of clothing that had been laid on top of it. The room was over laden with artifacts from Tim and Ruby's travels—a short totem pole, an abstract painting of what Nami swore was a cat, an end table with gold trim, and many more than Nami cared to pay attention to—and had the air of a culture clash. Still, she had to admit, Ruby makes it a good culture clash. Just like her cooking.
She crossed over to her balcony door and opened it, stepping out into the late morning. Already, people were milling about beside the inn, waiting for Van to arrive and ready to purchase his latest wares, if not sell off some of their old knickknacks. She looked to the right and saw, just coming down from the path that led up to Mineral Town, a man that was quite fat with thin, black hair, and bushy eyebrows and mustache. He was dressed in a fancy red and blue shirt and nice jeans. His nose was adorned with small, circular spectacles and his hand gripped the reins of a mule that was pulling a covered wagon.
"On time, as always," Nami muttered. Down below, she heard a familiar voice and scowled.
"Why is everyone standing around here?" Jack asked Muffy, who was standing on her toes in order to see if Van was coming yet.
"Van's coming!" Muffy said, smiling at him.
"Van?"
"He's this traveling merchant that comes through here every few weeks. Usually he has some really good stuff and with summer coming, I want to see if he's got any good bathing suits."
Nami turned away from the scene and walked back into her room, only to leave the room again at once, heading downstairs and out of the inn. At the sound of the door's opening, Jack turned to look at her and his smile faded.
"Nami," he said, nodding curtly. Nami merely grunted and walked past him, heading to a tree that stood between the Inner Inn and the Blue Bar. It was here that Van liked to set up shop and she realized that she'd have to move soon, but she enjoyed leaning up against it, so she did just that.
Muffy looked at Jack and giggled softly. "You really get on her bad side, don't you?" she asked, smirking at him.
Jack rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. "I guess you could say that. First time she said anything to me, she asked me if I was blind."
"Must be something about you that just ticks her off," Muffy said, smiling sweetly at him.
"Have to say the feeling's mutual." Jack glanced over at Nami and frowned. She glanced back at him, but looked away indifferently.
"She comes to the bar a lot. Rarely gets drunk, really, but every once in a while, she just won't stop. She doesn't talk much about her past, but the whole angry thing drops. A lot of times, she seems sad."
Jack frowned and resisted the urge to look back at Nami. He opened his mouth to speak, but any words he had were swept away by a current of excitement that seemed to pass from person to person. Chattering among the crowd escalated and even Jack felt a twinge of excitement—for what reason, he really didn't know.
A glance to the right, though, revealed the source of the villagers' glee—a portly man that could have only been the Van that Muffy had spoken on—had just crossed over the bridge. He grinned and waved at the people of Forget-Me-Not. Though he'd certainly not call Van a celebrity in the town—no, teenagers were not shrieking his name and asking for autographs—he was most definitely a popular face. Or at least his wares were popular, as already people had begun attempting to peek inside the covered cart that his mule was pulling.
"Oh, I hope he has some really pretty bathing suits," Muffy said, stretching to see his cart better. "Come on—there's going to be a line if we don't try to get to the front."
She grabbed his wrist, causing Jack to blush a tad, and pulled him past unsuspecting villagers, stopping as close to the tree that Nami was leaning under as she could. Nami, however, was no longer leaning under it, but was standing calmly in the front of a quickly forming line. The only person Jack saw ahead of her was the little boy Hugh, although the boy's parents, much to Jack's confusion and slight amusement were a few spaces behind him in the line.
Van arrived at his spot below the tree and pulled the covering off his cart. At once, Nami and Hugh stepped forward. Hugh pointed at a softball on one of the cart's shelves while Nami grabbed a fishing pole off it. She paid for both items and walked away, leaving with a fishing pole slung over her shoulder. Hugh waved at her as she left and quickly ran back to rejoin his parents.
Soon the line in front of Muffy and Jack dwindled and Muffy stepped up to Van, who greeted her with a smile. "Good morning, Muffy," he said happily. "Who's this?"
"This is Jack," Muffy said, grabbing Jack's arm again and pulling him closer. "He just moved into the old farm."
"Then you'll be interested in this sickle I've just acquired!" Van exclaimed, grabbing a small sickle off the shelf. It had a metallic black handle and its blade glinted in the sunlight. It was much better than the sickle that Jack had now, although, admittedly, he hadn't even used it yet.
"I already have a sickle," Jack began, but Van pressed on.
"This one is very lightweight and extremely sharp. Guaranteed to remain sharp for a minimum of five years. Its handle will never bend or lose its shape or your money back in full. Competitors will sell it for a thousand gold, but I'll give it to you for seven fifty."
"Thank you very much, but—" Jack started, but was silenced by Van again.
"Since you're a new customer, I'll even give you a third off whatever you purchase today as a one time offer."
By now, Muffy was looking expectantly at Jack, hoping that not only would he buy this sickle, but also a shimmering bathing suit that was hanging off the side of the cart…
"Well, all right. I'll take that and the bathing suit there." Muffy released a bit of a happy sigh as Jack gave Van the money. Van handed him the sickle and then handed Muffy the bathing suit.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Van said, smiling at them. He moved on to his next customer—a short, balding man dressed in blue overalls with a big, yellow smiley face on the front. Jack and Muffy walked in the general direction of the bar, Muffy placing the bathing suit against her, making sure it'd fit.
"How do you think I'll look in it, Jack?" she asked flirtatiously. Jack's eyes widened and he stammered for a moment before Muffy giggled again. "Maybe once it warms up a bit more, we can go swimming together sometime?"
Jack blushed a tad, but smiled at her. "Yeah," he said. "That'd be fun." She giggled again, waved a quick good-bye, and disappeared into the bar. Jack rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to the line in front of Van's cart. He walked back towards his farm, his new sickle in hand. As he walked past the line of people, he smiled and shook his head slightly.
They have little information of the goings on outside this island, he thought to himself. That's why men like Van are such a big deal to them, I suppose. He's not just a merchant—he's a lifeline to these people.
As he entered the farm, he looked across the way to Vesta's farm and smiled. Celia was out among the crops, crouching and inspecting some of the plants that were already growing. His smile faded, though, when he saw her cover her mouth and cough. The coughing continued for a few moments before, finally, she took a deep breath, wiped her mouth, and stood.
Jack frowned and turned away, heading into his tool shed. She was sick. He sighed and shook his head. She of all people didn't deserve to be sick. But that's the way life is, isn't it, Jack? He grimaced at the thought. A lot of people don't deserve the hands dealt them.
He had planned on exploring the town a bit more—there were still many places that he had hardly even seen. However, now, he didn't feel all that much like even leaving his farm, much less exploring. He put the sickle on its shelf next to his old one and walked out of the shed and into the house, closing the door softly.
Mom, Dad… Amber.