When We Plant the Apple Tree

Summary: Molly dies. Melody Farm falls into divine hands. A story about growing up, even if you're already a god.

VII: Tree

The first snowstorm of the season had come and gone, leaving in its wake slate gray skies and a bitter chill that put a clear glaze of ice on branches and frosted the sand on the beach. Fat snowflakes glided silently to the ground to form huge, fluffy drifts that had to be shoveled off of Harmonica Town's cobbled streets every morning. In the Clarinet and Flute Fields districts, the paths were all but impassable. Not a single footstep marred the pristine blanket of snow from one bridge to the other, and the only sound in the air was the occasional fall of snow off of a branch. Castanet was truly asleep.

Within the barn, Finn was brushing Perkins' silky brown fur while the other cows contentedly chewed their hay. Leeman and Abriel dozed by their mangers, nodding off to the rhythm of the coarse-haired brush and the faint hum of Finn's wings. It was another drowsy day at the farm, with nothing to do but stay warm and sleep. Finn envied the animals. With all of this year's heavy planting and harvesting behind him, he had nothing left to do but preen the animals and fret about the future. As exhausting as it had been, he wanted to keep taking care of Melody Farm. Alone.

His chin crumpled. He'd spent almost a year without Molly, and although it had been a year drenched in tears and sweat and rain, what he'd told Lord Ignis had been true. He didn't want anyone to take Molly's place. Besides, he could handle everything just fine—maybe with occasional help from the Harvest King. A little not-quite-fledged harvest sprite had carried the responsibility of the farm through all four backbreaking seasons of work. Hadn't he proved his worth?

So, even though the farm hadn't earned one cent of gold and the barn roof needed repairing and the farmhouse was filled with cobwebs, Finn felt cold dread seep through him whenever he imagined a new farmer claiming ownership of what was rightfully his—and Molly's. What other farmer would know how to shear Leeman as carefully as she had done? Who else could plant and grow such beautiful crops—who else could tend the orchard as dutifully? And most worrisome of all—who else would be as kind and loving and wonderful to him as she had been?

"Maybe no one will come," he whispered to Perkins. "Maybe the Harvest Goddess will give me more power so I can do everything by myself, so that way no one will have to come."

Perkins mooed unhelpfully.

Ignis was in the orchard, standing under the tree he had planted, watching it silently. No more would it be threatened by falling branches or the punishing winds of a storm. The break that he had mended was barely a raised line in the rich brown bark, and the rest of the branches fanned up and out like a many-spoked umbrella. Fully grown but still growing, it was already bigger than the other older trees. He wondered if the little bit of magic he had used to help it grow when he had first planted it had caused it to grow so big.

No, he decided. All of this was Molly's doing. The tree, the farm. Sephia's health, Castanet's revival. The ache in his chest.

It was all her fault.

"Why don't you like the Harvest King anymore?"

Molly, draped over the edge of their hot spring pool, cracked an eye open. Her vision was clouded with steam, but she could still see Finn on one of the rocks. He lay on his back, his hat folded into a pillow underneath this head. She shifted her legs, feeling renewed warmth as the water swirled around her, letting the heat seep into her skin and relieve muscles that felt like they hadn't relaxed since she had first picked up a hoe. "Why do you think I don't?" she asked stiffly.

"You haven't gone to see him in a while."

"Because we've been busy."

"We're always busy. Are you still mad at him?"

Molly lifted her head. At that moment, Perkins wandered by, shaggy brown coat flecked with white, her black nose rooting through the snow for grass. Molly's eyes followed her and then flicked towards Mount Garmon—or where Mount Garmon would be, if it hadn't been shrouded in cloud cover. "Not really."

Finn waved his arms in the air before flopping them down again. For him, a little steam went a long way. "I can't believe it's the New Year Festival already," he said dreamily. "Time sure goes by fast, doesn't it?"

"Five years," Molly agreed. "And the land is healthy—"

"And we've got lots of animals now—"

"And we're not scrounging for food—"

"And everyone's married and pregnant!"

Molly glared at Finn. The sprite blanched despite the steam. "N-no, I didn't mean it like that! I only said that because, you know, Toby and Renee announced that they're expecting, and then Kathy told everyone that she'd be having twins—"

"Yeah, I know." She rested her head on her folded arms again and was quiet for a few moments. "Hey, Finn."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'd be any good at being a wife?"

Finn mused for a bit. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure," he finally decided. "You're good at feeding and washing and milking the animals. You'd just have to do the same thing to your husband."

Molly spent the next ten minutes laughing.

She couldn't sleep that night, tired though she was. Flat on her back, listening to Finn snoring on the pillow beside her head, she memorized the hairline cracks along her ceiling and watched as the clock ticked slowly around to one in the morning. Two. Four.

"You gotta be kidding me," she finally muttered. She slipped out from under the covers and bundled herself against the cold in the dark. Searching in her jacket pockets for her mittens, she pulled out a few grains of buckwheat and an apple core. A few black seeds showed through the holes in the dried out core, so she broke it apart and scooped them into her hand. Better not waste these guys, she thought dryly. I might have to chop a few more of them down before this whole thing is over.

She felt around in her other pocket, sighed, and left the house as quietly as she could. The snow was silver under the moon, the sky still black ink. Arms crossed, hands stuffed into her armpits, she scowled at her property like it was to blame for her sleeplessness. Her scowl only deepened when she automatically looked at the orchard to see how her special tree was doing, only to remember that it wasn't there anymore.

The cold dug its way into her skin, so she started walking to stay warm. She wasn't specifically thinking of going to the mountain until she found herself standing in front of the rune wall.

He'd let her calf die and she'd destroyed his apple tree. She didn't think she had the heart to face him again.

She hesitated, then placed her gloved hand on the etched stone.

Despite her parka and knee-high boots, the instantaneous temperature change between the bottom of the mountain and its peak was enough to knock the wind out of her. She was still dizzy and shivering when she crossed the chasm, but her feet were steady, having long since memorized every step. Scaling the stairs to the platform took more courage than she remembered, but she made it to the foot of the dais all the same. And there he was, the same as always, exactly as he had always been: beautiful and aloof and completely out of her reach.

He heard her coming and turned to face her, stony and impassive. She had to swallow several times before she could speak. Her breath clouded in the air.

"Happy New Year."

He gravely inclined his head. Long ago, she would have bristled at his silence—don't you act all godlike with me, mister—but now she took it as an invitation.

"I thought we'd watch something different this time," she told him, kicking snow off the edge of his stone platform before plopping down onto it, facing east, her back to him. To guard against the cold, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She stiffened only slightly when she heard movement behind her, and then made room for him on her cleared-off patch of stone. He sat down next to her, almost close enough for their arms to touch. She had to remind herself to keep breathing.

"I thought you would have stayed away longer," he said. "I am thankful that you did not."

Heat bloomed on her cheeks. "I should have brought some soba for us to eat," she said hurriedly, "since it's the new year and all. Then again, it's probably better that I didn't, given your track record of refusing anything that's not alcoholic and apple-flavored."

The Harvest God frowned, but his voice was even when he spoke. "Humans adore their unnecessary rituals. You should be able to eat anything you wish on any given day."

"You're missing the point. It's the ceremony of it all. You know, like birthdays and weddings. It's a known fact that cake tastes best on birthdays and soba tastes best on the first of the year."

"You are jesting with me."

"Really, I'm not. Come to the farm on a festival day and I'll show you."

The indigo sky was lightening into a crystal blue in the east, and a faint blush of pink crept over the clouds. The winter wind finally parted them enough for Molly to see the patchwork blanket of Castanet's rolling hills, the dark ocean stretching to the horizon, and the faint glitter of Harmonica Town's lighthouse far below.

"You really can see everything from here, can't you?" she marveled, craning her neck to see the sprawling expanse beneath her. She could just see her farm around the curve of the foothills. Her chest swelled with pride when she saw how beautiful it was, even from a distance.

"I can."

She leaned back on her elbows. "So why are you so baffled about things like festivals and cake exchanges? If you've been watching all this time, why don't any of our 'weird and confusing and pointless' traditions make sense to you?"

"There is little point in having so many celebrations," he said, his voice growing quieter. "It is as if humans do not know what they live for. A human is born, his life happens, and then he dies. It should be more complicated than that."

Their eyes met. He held himself completely still, his hair falling in crimson waves around his face. A stray flame crawled up the pillar of his abdomen to flash across his neck. Everything about him—his face, his skin, the shape of his hands—was too perfect to be real. The sudden realization made Molly's heart squeeze painfully.

"You never were, were you?" she breathed. "You truly don't know."

"I am all-knowing."

She rolled her eyes. "If you were, you'd know that human lives are about the most complicated things on the planet. Life's all about choices and changing and growing. You think you know so much because you've been watching, but you really haven't paid attention to what you've seen."

"All lives on this land are a part of mine. Nothing is beyond my attention."

Molly frowned, chewing her lip. Then, her earth-brown eyes widened with a sudden thought. She sat up quickly. "I think I have a New Year's gift for you after all."

Digging into her pocket, she pulled out one of the apple seeds and held it out to him. "And, unlike soba, you're going to love it. Just do me a favor and take care of it for me."

His crimson gaze fell to her gloved palm. When he picked the seed up, the warmth from his fingers sent a chill all the way to her shoulder. His questioning glance was even warmer. She began to babble in order to cover another blush.

"The other day, I told you to act like a god. I'm not sure that was the right thing to say. That's what you've always done, because that's all you've ever been, isn't it?" She rubbed her hands against her arms. "So, instead, I want you to try being a farmer. You bring the harvest for everyone else in Castanet. Why not do it for yourself?" She snorted dryly. "You've got the hands for it, at least."

He examined the seed in his palm with an aloof expression that made her smile. "I fail to see the reason why you're gifting me with this. There is no place here for the seed to grow."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to debase yourself and come visit the farm sometime," the farm girl said craftily. "I've got a spot in the orchard just for you."

She let him inspect the seed, his severe eyebrows knit in a scowl. She decided to nudge him in the right direction.

"When I first got here," she began, "I knew nothing about managing a farm or growing plants or taking care of animals, but once the responsibility was in my hands, I changed. I was forced to change. And it was the best thing that ever happened to me. And…and maybe you can change a little, too. You can change enough to enjoy what's going on all around you-maybe find out what Castanet is actually about. Come get your hands dirty. Go fishing. Go down into the mine, instead of standing on it. Come back down to earth, Harvest King."

She reached out a hesitant hand and closed his indecisive fingers around the apple seed, wondering if he knew how perfectly his silhouette was burned into her memory by now: every gleam of the gold around his throat, every twist of his braid and fold in his crimson robe, the curve of the muscles and the strong line of his jaw. She imagined him on her farm, crops growing under his care, animals crowding around him to be fed. His feet would be muddy and sweat would make his forehead shine. It was both foreign and familiar to imagine him that way.

But she couldn't make him any more human than that. Try as she might, she just couldn't.

I thought so, she thought as she gazed in the Harvest Lord's eyes. I can cover him with dirt and put a milker in his hand, but I can't imagine him as…as my….

The sun finally broke over the horizon, making them both flinch. The light poured over Castanet and chased the remaining shadows from the mountaintop. The animals would be waking up soon and the plants would need to be watered. Seeing the sun made Molly realize she'd missed an entire night's sleep, and she suddenly felt woozy and blurry-eyed.

"I'd better get home," she murmured awkwardly, standing up and brushing snow off of the back of her soaking jeans. He rose as well, his hand still clenched around the seed.

"Wait," he said, as she turned to go. She almost had to squint at how brightly he was reflecting the rising sun.

"You speak of me changing," he began. "I believe I have, if just a little. It is something I feel when I see your face. Perhaps it is a good thing."

She grinned over her shoulder at him. "Well. Isn't that something. There may be some hope for you yet."

So saying, she reached into her pocket and crushed the blue feather she had found along with the apple seeds earlier. Clearing her throat, she made her voice loud and authoritative. "Next time I come up here, I'll bring my farming manual for you. You're going to need to know how to do things right if you plan to move one speck of dirt on my property."

Molly and Finn were late to begin their spring planting. Somehow, winter killed crops but made weeds flourish, and it took them several days of nothing but field work to make the soil workable again.

"Next time, I'm going to get a flamethrower and just torch everything," Molly grumped as she sat lacing her boots at the kitchen table. Finn sat next to her on a red-checked placemat, watching her patiently. "Just flat out kill it with fire. You ready to go?" she asked him, sitting up and combing her hair out of her eyes with her fingers.

"Ready!" Finn jumped up, wiggling with excitement in midair. "What kinds of seeds are we getting?"

"Wheat, for starters. Maybe some lettuce."

Finn's happy expression disappeared. "But you said we could plant something fun this spring!" he said. "We always plant lettuce!"

Molly stood, pulling on her gardening gloves as she went to the tool chest. "Because we always need the gold it brings," she told him, rummaging through it and pulling out the brush and milker. Seeing the betrayed look on Finn's face when she turned around made her smile sympathetically. "All right, you whiner. What do you think we should plant?"

He brightened instantly. "Cocoa!" he cried. "And lavender!"

Now it was Molly's turn to make a face. "Cocoa?" She was about to tell him it was too expensive, but Finn's hopeful expression was so infuriatingly adorable that she had to relent. She blew out a sigh and reached for her straw hat hanging on the corner of the bookshelf. "Cocoa, then," she agreed begrudgingly. "And lavender too, because apparently you want Julius over here every day nagging me to make perfume. But there's no way we're not planting wheat, no matter how boring you think it is."

Finn was practically dancing at the prospect of making chocolate ice cream and hot cocoa. He tossed his orange hat into the air. "Oh thank you, thank you! You're the best!"

Molly was already at the front door, propping it open with her foot and letting the early sunshine fill the room with light and warmth. She looked back at him, her skin glowing, her eyes bright. "C'mon, buddy," she said. "Let's go be farmers again."

"Doctor! Doctor Jin!"

The bell above Choral Clinic's door clattered as Renee flung it open. She was flush-faced and panting, stumbling over her words. At the reception desk, Irene and Anissa, who were grinding dried pontata roots into powder, looked up from their work. Jin had been writing prescription orders at his desk, but was already on his feet when Renee's wide eyes found his. His mind was already going through the gamut of possible troubles: issues with her pregnancy, Toby stung by a jellyfish, someone's injured at the Ranch—before Renee cut off his thoughts.

"Please hurry," she said. "It's Molly."

By the time Jin and the others reached Melody Farm, Cain had carried Molly into the house and had laid her on the bed. Hanna was pressing a cold cloth to her forehead while Toby hovered at the foot of the bed, looking lost.

"Dad and I were on our delivery run and we were going to pick up Molly's shipment," Renee was telling Jin as they entered the house, "and we saw her working in the field and she saw us so she stood up to wave and then, I don't know what happened, she just—"

"She's breathing," Cain interrupted, moving out of the way as Jin sat down on the edge of Molly's bed and set his medical bag at his feet. "Can't get her to wake back up, though. She was trying to talk to me when I picked her up but she wasn't making any sense."

An unseen Finn hovered above the bed. Stomach churning with worry and fear, he fluttered down to Molly's shoulder and hid behind her sleeve as Jin felt her pulse, shone a penlight into her eyes, squeezed the web of skin between her forefinger and thumb. "Molly?" he asked, patting her cheek. "Open your eyes for me."

"Please open your eyes," echoed Finn, weakly.

"Does anybody know if this has happened to her before?" Jin asked as he worked. "Fainting spells, anything like that?" When everyone shook their heads, he reached into his bag and pulled out a plastic bag of clear liquid and a large-bore needle. "Irene, could you prepare this for me?" he asked, laying the supplies on the bed. "Anissa, get everyone out of here, please."

"Doctor, what's wrong with her?" Renee called over Anissa's shoulder, as the dark-haired woman gently guided the worried group out into the sunshine. Jin, already bending over Molly's arm with the needle in his hand, didn't answer.

"We'll do everything we can," Anissa told them all as she closed the door on their worried faces. Hearing her, Jin smoothed Molly's sweat-dampened hair away from her face. "And the rest will be up to you, my friend," he said softly.

Finn climbed out from underneath Molly's sleeve and crept over the pillow and onto the windowsill. The window was open, letting the balmy breeze fill the room. He turned to look at Jin and Irene and Anissa, all stooped over his beloved friend. Then he buzzed his wings and rose into the air like a piece of fluff. He followed the path that Molly's boots had worn in the grass, past the orchard and the pond, over the bridge and into the Garmon District. He pushed through the overgrowth that choked the path to the Goddess' Spring. Sephia was waiting for him.

"Come here, little one," she said.

Finn went to her, and she reached out and cradled him in her arms. Staring up into her perfect face, Finn couldn't bring himself to speak. Together, they waited under the sweet-smelling Goddess Tree.

It was late in the sun-dappled afternoon when Mayor Hamilton broke the news of Molly's death to the stunned citizens of Harmonica Town.

Alone at the top of the world, his dais alit by fire, the Harvest King had already known.

He had, after all, been the one to call her home.

Molly had been buried in the small cliffside cemetery beside Celesta Church, bordered by the sheer cliff wall on one side and the ocean on the other. The steps leading down to the cemetery were moss-covered and crusted with salt spray, much like the haphazardly arranged headstones that sprouted from the thick layer of snow. A stone bench situated underneath a tree near the base of the steps offered visitors a seat for relaxation and contemplation. It was a quiet place, filled with distant sounds from the sea.

Ignis had not attended her funeral and had not lingered to throw a few handfuls of dirt over her urn like the others had done. He had not come to see her in the long months that followed her death. Now, though, there was nothing to plant or harvest at the farm.

"I planted the seed," he began haltingly. "I tended your animals and harvested your crops. I did as you asked of me."

The setting sun threw his shadow over the marker bearing her name. She was here, in a tiny marble box under the snow. Somehow, though, he didn't feel as close to her here as he did on her farm. There was more of her on that piece of property by the sea than anywhere else, even her own grave.

"She would probably prefer it that way, right?" spoke a gentle voice behind him. Sephia again, her presence filling the cemetery with the same sweet iris scent that permeated the grove where the Tree grew. She stepped out from behind the tree by the bench and walked over to him, her bare feet leaving faint tracks in the snow. Together, they looked down at the resting place of their hero.

"I will never understand humans," Ignis finally said. "Had she even been immortal like us, I would have never deciphered the meaning in anything she said."

"I don't believe we were meant to understand them," the Harvest Goddess said pleasantly. "Although I think you understood her a little more than you know."

"No. Not at all."

Sephia reached down and brushed the snow off the square headstone. "What was that you said about human lives being uncomplicated?" She looked up over her shoulder at him, her ocean-hued eyes sparkling.

Ignis looked away, trying to name the burning under his skin. Swallowing, he said, "She was going to propose to me that day on the mountain, but she didn't." Ignis looked over at her, and she winced at the lost look in his eyes. "Why didn't she?"

"Because she felt she did not need to. The feather would not have brought you two any closer than you already were. Nothing is more sacred than the bond between a farmer and the land."

"She loved me."

Sephia straightened gracefully, fluttering her lacy wings. "See? You understood her after all."

Ignis clenched his fists. "Harvest Goddess, I don't know what to do," he said brokenly. "She's in the ground. They put her in the ground."

She smiled then, a small smile of compassion and wisdom, and reached out to put a hand on his cheek. "Oh, Ignis. Isn't that how a seed grows? You have to plant it first."

He was not consoled. "I—I never told her—"

"Shh. You didn't have to." Sephia cupped his face in her cool hands, her moonlight glow overpowering his fire. "You became the caretaker of Melody Farm in her stead. Every seed planted. Every weed pulled. Every step taken. Would you have done any of those things if you didn't love her back?"

There it was. He hadn't even admitted it to himself, but as soon as Sephia voiced it, the feeling that was crushing his chest seemed to leap off of him like a flame, adding another banner of fire around his body. It was love. He had loved Molly. He had loved her as soon as he'd seen her, as soon as she'd been rejected by Toby, as soon as she'd whispered to Finn in the dark.

And he'd realized it too late.

"She knows—she knows everything." Then Sephia's lips turned up. "But now that you're here, it would hurt to tell her for yourself."

Ignis closed his eyes, too overcome to speak.

I gotta tell him, Molly had said. If I ever fall in love again—

"Soil, water, warm sunshine." Sephia's words carried the barest hint of the melody in them, a faint suggestion that she wanted him to pick up the song. The same song Finn had been singing. The same one that Molly had sung. "My strength is yours, your breath is mine. You're the mountain—" and here she became louder, reaching out to entwine her fingers in his— "I'm the sea."

His breath caught in his throat. He gazed at the little mount of dirt at his feet and wished with all of his soul that he hadn't let her calf die that day.

"Go on," Sephia coaxed. "You know the words. Tell her."

Tell me.

His voice was small and quiet as a timid child. "Between us stands the apple tree."

He wasn't the singing type. He wasn't the listening type, or the loving type, or the type that gave even the slightest bit of attention to all the mortal lives that were born and died at the foot of his mountain. He was a star, birthed from fire, older than land and sea. He was immortal. He was a god.

And Molly had turned him into a farmer.

Sephia's smile was like the sunrise. "You took the melody," she lamented softly. "Ah, well. Shall we continue?"

He remembered her in the twilight, throwing seeds upon the earth. The way she hummed off-key as she pulled weeds and cursed under her breath if she forgot to get dinner out of the oven before it burned. How often she lovingly pet her livestock with calloused hands, and how often those same hands held out apples to him. He remembered the many sunsets they had watched, and that first glorious sunrise, where she had been glowing brighter than him. He remembered the exact shape of her silhouette against the sky and the exact shape of the apple seed she had dropped into his hand.

The hymn they sang was no triumphant bell-call; no one in Harmonica Town heard it, although it was more beautiful than anything the bells had ever produced, and certainly more than Molly had ever made it sound. Their combined celestial auras made the snow-covered cemetery glow like an aurora as the sun went down over them. They sang until the stars came out, pouring all their love into the words.

And in the orchard at Melody Farm, Molly's apple tree grew, and grew, and grew.

I agonized over this chapter but I hope it turned out well.

Both Gale and Alan tell you that Sephia sings every day, and when he loves you enough, Ignis mentions singing as well. I thought it would be a suitable send-off.

One more chapter to go!