Among Claire's modest array of fall vegetables, a large field of dead plant matter left over from summer remained. Eager to have her fields clean by the time cooler weather came around, the farmer was carrying an armful of withered tomato plants in her arms to her compost heap. She added them to the pile with a loud sigh.

Only a million left to go…

She whirled around and almost bumped into the young man standing behind her.

"Ah, s-sorry about that…" Gray took a small step back and gathered a few loose tomato vines that had missed the heap with his free hand. He tossed them atop of the compost and tugged down on the bill of his cap. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The young woman was slammed with a wave of nostalgia. It had felt like an eternity since she had longed for Gray to visit her on the farm, almost like part of another life. She wracked her brain, trying to recall the last words the two of them had spoken to each other, and she found that she hadn't hung onto them like she had in the past.

"Uh, hi…" He cleared his throat, shifting the small parcel in his hand.

"Hello," she returned, her posture becoming more erect as she looked at him curiously, trying to puzzle out why he was going out of his way to see her.

He handed her the box with a lavish pink bow, nearly thrusting it into her chest with shaking hands. "I wanted to give this to you. I know it's nothing fancy, but still…"

Her birthday wasn't for another few weeks, and she was certain he didn't know that date anyway. She accepted the box, which was lighter than she was expecting. "Thank you," she stammered, a little unsure of what to do. Her fingers moved to untie the ribbon, but she froze. "I… don't understand," she admitted.

His face turned pink and he averted his eyes. "I suck at this… I mean, I know it's not much, but I just wanted to thank you for everything…" He jammed his hands into his pockets. "For helping me not lose my best friend, really… I… I couldn't talk any sense into Cliff when you could," he stammered quickly, the color draining from his face.

She gave him a sad smile. "I think he wanted to stay all along, but he didn't feel like he was allowed to feel that way." She paused, her eyes drifting out beyond her fence to the vineyard. "I'm really grateful that Duke needed the extra help." A lump formed in her throat and her voice unexpectedly cracked.

"Y-yeah…" Gray's voice was husky and he quickly cleared his throat. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks." His eyes moved to the box in Claire's hands, not-so-subtly asking her to open it already.

Claire complied, untying the ribbon as she spoke. "I'm glad that there are other people here that care about him a lot, too." Her eyes rested on a dozen delicate cookies and she felt herself drool. "Oh, macarons! Thank you very much!" They were a definite step up from the sleeves of sugared biscuits she had bought recently as a treat.

Relief swept over his face. "They're all lavender flavored. Karen mentioned you liked that kind of stuff." He had wanted to purchase her something she would enjoy, and his trip to the store that day made him realize how little he actually knew about the young woman despite her earlier attempts to garner his attention. He flushed with embarrassment; had he really been that eager to shut her out, even as a friend?

He snapped to attention as she held the box out to him, offering one.

He shook his head. "Oh, no. They're yours."

She took one from the box herself and bit into it, still holding out the package to share. "They're really good." The cookie dissolved in her mouth and the rich cream reminded her of tea with her parents. She felt a jolt of guilt as she remembered the last time she saw them and the letter sitting in her nightstand drawer.

"Oh, okay, fine," he stammered, selecting one of the sweets. His thumb promptly went through the cookie and he cursed in surprise. "What are these, puffed up air?" A hint of a smile played at his lips.

Claire couldn't help but giggle as he popped the whole thing in his mouth, licking the cream and pale purple crumbs from his thumb. "They're made with meringue, so they're light and fluffy. What do you think of macarons now that you've tried one?"

Gray swallowed with a smirk. "Lavender, huh… A few years ago, I would've asked why they make cookies flavored like bubble bath."

Claire's giggle turned into a snort as she closed the box. "Well, I suppose it would be best to leave the rest for someone who appreciates them." She cradled the package in her hands protectively.

"They're not bad," he insisted. "I'm a lot more used to eating things with herbs and flowers now…"

"I can imagine Mary's opened your eyes a bit to that," Claire replied, taking another small bite of her macaron.

He gave a nod, surprised she had mentioned his girlfriend. After all, it hadn't been that terribly long ago since Claire wanted to be his. His eyes searched hers and he saw that they no longer held that special spark that they used to when she spoke to him. He realized with a bit of sheepishness that she had been giving a more doting look at Cliff lately, and Gray was the first to admit he normally didn't notice those kinds of things. His roommate's eyes had been positively sparkling since the evening before, and he had gushed that it had gone very well despite not providing much detail. Gray found himself refraining from asking Claire anything about it to avoid any discomfort.

Awkwardness was still determined to settle in as a young horse trotted to Claire's side, looking curiously at the box of sweets his master was carrying. The blonde let out a chuckle as she tucked the box under her arm and popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth, rubbing Tucker's nose. He gave her a playful bump with his head.

Gray watched the woman and horse together among nuzzles and laughter. She had a different aura about her than he remembered and he realized with a bit of shame and regret that he had never really gotten to know what she was really like. When she wasn't obsessing and stalking, it seemed Claire was very gentle-hearted and kind, and despite that, she even seemed to have a tiny bit of sass. Her expressions were more genuine now, her voice less hesitant and shy… She was happy now, and while the main reason was probably her closeness with Cliff, perhaps one of the bigger reasons for that was because Gray no longer spent time with her.

He tore his eyes from the young horse and the woman. It would be selfish to even hope she'd be interested in cultivating some sort of friendship with him after everything they had been through together. Ever since he had helped her prepare Cliff's things when he was injured, he had reflected on the strong, thoughtful woman that he had rejected. She didn't stir his heart the way Mary did, but he couldn't deny that he was curious to see what it would be like to have a friend like her. Why did Claire have to be interesting to him now that he had made things awkward between them?

"Gray?"

Her voice startled him, and he chided the heat he felt in his cheeks. The last thing I want to do is give her the wrong idea… "Huh?"

"You don't think that Tucker needs to get shoes already, do you? I read that some people think you should avoid it as long as possible, and others say to start right away. I know there has to be a happy medium, but I don't want to shoe Tucker if he doesn't need it."

His ears perked up at the comments she was making; she had actually read the book on horses he recommended her and wasn't getting it just to impress him. Moreover, it sounded like she had gotten information from more than one source… Gray bit his lip; perhaps he had never given her enough credit.

"Let's take a look."

Gray had suggested they go to Yodel Farm where he could access the proper tools for trimming Tucker's hooves. They agreed that the lush grass on the farm kept the colt from requiring shoes. The young man's face lit up as he led Tucker into the barn with Barley. Claire watched with curiosity as Gray deftly worked the large file, speaking in soothing tones to the young horse.

"Just as mellow as he was when I first met him." His pale blue eyes were positively shining as he doted on Tucker – he had long forgotten to keep himself composed around the horse.

Claire couldn't help but smile at him. She could tell that he had been dying to spend time with Tucker, and while she didn't regret avoiding Gray for a while, she began to wonder if things would be more comfortable with him from now on.

Claire watched as he worked at filing the hoof to avoid sharp points and her attention was drawn toward Barley, who was walking toward them with a concerned look on his face.

"Gray, your Grandfather mentioned that he's got a lot of orders coming in for the holiday season already."

The young man let out a grunt of affirmation. "I swear it gets earlier and earlier every year… Yeah, we're getting more orders. He's got me staying after a few days a week right now."

The old man frowned. "I'm going to be shearing soon. I'd ask Rick to help, but I know he's getting ready to winterize at his place."

May was sitting on a wooden stool and she picked up a loose piece of straw, waving it around like a tiny wand. "You can always ask Mr. Zack, Grandpa. I bet he'd be happy to help."

A strained smile worked its way across Barley's lips. "Ah, that's a possibility, I suppose." He turned toward the farmer. "Claire, I was going to ask if you were interested as well. You probably have room on your farm to raise sheep when you're ready, so why not get a little practice in? I would pay you for your trouble, of course."

Her eyes traveled to the flock of sheep out in Barley's field. It already looked like a daunting task. It looked as if shearing season was an equivalent to her tomato season. Her own crops were easy enough to manage this time of year anyway, and she felt a little nervous about making it through the winter on her savings. Every bit of money surely helped.

"Sure, I'd be happy to help out."

Before she knew it, a ewe was brought into the barn as a demonstration. Gray watched with amusement as he continued to file at Tucker's hooves.

"I bet you can clip as fast as Grandpa!" May cheered, bouncing on her feet.

Claire bit back a smirk; she wished she shared the young girl's optimism…

I didn't even know sheep could move that way – it's as if they don't have any bones! Am I even doing this right?

Claire held onto the sheep's front legs and bit back a squeak as the creature wriggled in her grasp.

"Ah, I don't want to hurt her!" She immediately let go and the ewe flailed on her back before scampering up and attempting to bolt.

The sheep was immediately stopped by Barley, who flipped her back over with a thud and pinned her between his knees. The ewe immediately calmed down.

"See this pressure? It keeps her from panicking. If I'm not confident, then she could flail and get hurt when I'm clipping. It's important to remain firm at first so she mellows out. That being said, flailing is a bit of the process, but you'll learn to roll with it. The clippers please."

Claire reached for the tool resting on the workbench with a bit of what she decided as sheepishness. Her amusement at her pun faded as she quickly realized she had failed. He accepted the shears in his weather-beaten arthritic hands and set along to clipping. "See, I'm just doing a few blows across the stomach to open it up."

Her eyes widened at his terminology, but she quickly saw that he was referring to the fleece being free from the body.

Barley continued. "With this technique, I can get all of the wool off in one piece."

She watched in amazement as Barley set to work, moving as if the clippers were simply an extension of his hand. "May I ask why you don't use an electric trimmer?"

"A good question." He flopped the ewe on her side and she flailed for a moment before calming down in his grasp and he continued as if nothing had happened. "The buzzing of the trimmer can agitate them more than I think is necessary." He worked his way up the ewe's side, snipping along. "Also, when I trim them like this, I am able to leave them with a couple weeks' worth of growth to keep them more comfortable."

May had joined Claire's side and wrapped her fingers around the young woman's in a silent hello. Just as Claire's heart began to melt, May let go and grabbed a small push-style broom specially shortened for her. She moved it along the floor clumsily, clearing the straw.

"If we don't sweep now, we have to pick out the straw later," she explained. "This is the part where I help," she added proudly.

Claire watched the ewe wriggle on the floor as Barley deftly turned her over before continuing his clipping.

"May's right. This job can get a bit messy sometimes. But I can imagine you're quite used to messy jobs by now, eh?" Barley let out a soft chuckle that sounded more like a wheeze than anything else.

Claire blushed as she attempted to dust the dirt off the bib of her overalls, realizing with embarrassment that it would need to be scrubbed before the spot was removed. "Ah, I suppose so," she confessed.

Her shame faded immediately as the animal was turned on her side once more. "This breed needs to be sheared twice a year. I usually do it in the fall and spring. My other sheep only get one shearing in the spring. It really depends on lambing season, too, though." His hands moved fluidly as he worked his way across the ewe's sides, clipping away. "I like to give them a trim around a month before they're due. Makes for a cleaner birth."

"Baby lambs are the cutest!" May leaned on the handle of her broom, forgetting how helpful she wanted to show Claire she could be. "Ambrosia had a baby lamb that I got to name Marshmallow! She is the best! I know! I'll show you Marshmallow!"

"Maybe in a little while, May." Her grandfather's voice was kind but firm as he continued his work. Claire watched his eyebrows immediately furrow as he looked up, speeding up his work. He said nothing as he moved the shears, removing the fleece in one large piece. The old man gave the sheep a half-hearted pat as he gave the man standing in the barn doorway a curt nod. "Ah, Zack, I'll be right with you."

Claire took a step back as she watched the old man swiftly set aside the fleece, giving May a pat on the shoulder as she stopped sweeping. He gave the young woman an expression she couldn't recognize right away.

"I bet Claire would love to see Marshmallow now, May."

The young woman found she was giving him a sympathetic nod as she silently agreed to his pleading request. She watched as the two men disappeared into the house.

"Thank you for coming, Zack…" Barley sat down in his chair heavily with a sigh. "Now that we know what we do… I'd really like you to give Joanna a call and see if you can convince her to come back."

Zack's posture stiffened and he struggled to keep his jaw from dropping, nearly missing his chair as he sat down. "Are you serious? Why do you think that she'll say anything different?"

The old man laced his gnarled fingers together and closed his eyes, partially to avoid seeing his companion's reaction. "Because you're going to ask her to marry you."

The blood drained from his face. "Wh-what?! I-I can't do that!"

"Of course you can." Barley's voice was level. "If the two of you can make a child together, you can make a family together."

Zack felt a little lightheaded; hearing aloud that he had fathered a child felt a little surreal, and frankly, it was terrifying. A faint image of the beautiful Lillia fluttered on the edges of his consciousness, but he pushed it away. "You don't understand!" Zack shook his head so vigorously he made himself a little dizzy. "She left because she was unhappy here. She didn't feel safe. No one would take the time to understand that. She told me that-"

"Was that before or after you tore off each other's clothes while you were out at sea?" Barley's eyes were hard and unyielding. "May needs a mother and a father! You can't tell me that you look at that little girl and feel nothing!" His throat tightened.

Zack moved his eyes to the floor, rubbing his arm. Her laughing dark eyes looked so much like her mother's, but they still had an innocence to them. Since he had been by to visit more, May had accepted his company without question and she loved without bias. It was still hard to believe that she was related to him. A few months ago, he had never considered the thought that his one-time fling with Joanna would have produced a child. It wasn't until that fateful day that he had come into contact with the compass he had left with Joanna.

He could still remember the last time he had seen her around six years ago, watching her tuck her untidy dark hair behind her ears with a sigh as their breathing had slowed down. She let out a surprised squeak as he placed the cold metal compass between her bare breasts.

"What is this?" she asked with a chuckle, picking it up and flipping it open, her fingers exploring the shiny brass.

He grinned at her smiling face – her removal from Mineral Town had left her with nothing but laughter and lightheartedness. He knew life would only get better for her.

"It's for you. You need to do what makes you happy, Joanna… I want you to follow your heart…"

"Follow my heart…" she repeated softly. She held the compass with outstretched arms in front of her face, as if asking it for direction. "That's really sweet, Zack, but maybe a little far-fetched. Do you think… I can really be happy out there?"

He gave her hand a friendly pat. "Yeah, I do."

"Thank you, Zack… Thank you for tonight. I needed to tell myself this doesn't have to be scary and bad…" Her lips trembled as she scrunched up her face, trying to avoid spilling any tears.

Zack wrapped his muscular arms around her as she quietly cried, staring up at the ceiling.

"Ah, I'm sorry…" She gave a weak laugh that quavered.

He stroked her hair. "It's fine. Let it out, Joanna…"

He felt her silently sob against his chest as the waves gently rocked them. He thought of the woman with the soft pink hair that had escaped his thoughts while he and Joanna were tangled together under the bed sheets. He felt a mild wave of guilt, as if he had betrayed her somehow. He quickly shoved it away; this moment with Joanna wasn't about forming a bond of love – it was about celebrating freedom and overcoming her past. She had surprised him with the suggestion for their activities after the anchor was set. Drinks were poured and protection was provided, Joanna rolling her eyes at him as he expressed interest yet shock.

What could go wrong? Just a little fun and celebrating… Besides, she needed this…

Zack snapped back to reality.

Joanna, his wife? He got along with her alright, but…

He thought of Lillia and felt a mild stab of pain. Despite his friendship with Rod, something about his wife's gentle kindness had drawn him in. He shook his head; regardless of whether or not Rod ever returned, she would never be his and he knew it. The very thought made his heart heavy.

His dark eyes flicked outside at the young girl petting sheep with Claire. These past couple of months with May and Barley had been different than any in his entire life. Her pure smile, her musical giggle, the way her small fingers would wrap around his when they walked across the farm… His anxiety over whether or not he was her parent gradually faded as he let himself get lost in her beautiful world.

While having a generally sweet demeanor, she had a sassy side as well. She reminded her so much of Joanna in this sense that he had slipped a couple of times, nearly calling her by the wrong name. One day she had sent him home with a single daisy and a wish for him to feel better, as May had caught him frowning when he remembered his anxiety.

When he went home that night, he found himself wishing that she was indeed her daughter.

May doesdeserve a family – she deserves all the love in the world… Maybe I'm being selfish. Still…

"If her own daughter isn't enough to make her come home, why do you think I'll be able to convince her?"

"Because you're going to tell her you're May's father and you are going to propose to her!" Barley hardly felt like he needed to explain himself. How could Zack not see that she needed a proper family?

"There was nothing going on between us! We weren't in love or anything! Besides, she knows I'm the father! Joanna gave May that compass I gave her years ago, saying her dad gave it to her."

Barley's voice was taken aback. "Not in love?! H-how can you even say that, knowing that May is yours?"

"That doesn't change the past and the fact that Joanna and I were never interested in each other that way," Zack replied firmly, cutting him off.

"And people wonder why the older folk are disgusted with the younger generation…" Barley looked as if he was going to vomit.

Zack bit his lip, his voice soft. "Look… I… I think we can agree that you think I made some stupid choices – that Joanna and I probably shouldn't have… well, you know…" He shamefully looked away; it didn't do well to tell Barley that they had tried to be careful. "But I don't regret May being born."

Barley's expression was unreadable behind his glasses. "It's simple for you to say because you haven't been involved up until now. Joanna has been nothing but a source of heartache for that girl. I raised May myself and all she has ever longed for is her mother…" His wrinkled lips became a thin line as memories flooded his head of his daughter's behavior. "I'm just an old man who has experienced too much… who has seen his daughter change into someone he doesn't know anymore… You… you should go before I say something I'm going to regret." He cleared his throat. "I just ask that you think over my proposal. I will pay for the marriage certificate. It can be a small, private ceremony…"

Zack stood up stiffly. "I suppose I should be going then…"

After all, he was moments away from saying something he was going to regret as well.

Author's Note: I watched sooo many sheep shearing videos and tutorials for clipping horse hooves, haha. I was surprised to learn how rarely sheep actually need to be clipped!

Not a lot of writers touch down on the Joanna/May/Barley situation, and I really didn't have any plans to until my friend and I were brainstorming a while back about the different relationships between HM64 and Mineral Town/Back to Nature. I certainly didn't plan on writing out much about Joanna, but lo and behold, she now has a back story, or at least the beginnings of one on her. Her story's mostly in my head at this point. I really wanted to give her some of the characteristics May has, and I found myself falling in love with this version of Joanna. As I write more of her, I hope you like her, too. I want to write her as not necessarily a bad person, but someone who has been through some hard times and is doing what she thinks is best.

Also, there is a bakery at our local farmer market that sells lavender macarons. Ah, macarons…

Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear what you think about the whole Zack/Barley/May drama going on!