Friday, 26th of Fall

Alma woke up crying. It was still dark outside. Her abdomen was tight, and all of her muscles were tense. She had a headache from grinding her teeth. She took a long and shaky breath. Even though that was the first nightmare in a long time … it was a bad one. She did not feel rested at all, and she wanted to go back to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Eric's hungry, terrifying face when she agreed to his request. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes, smacked her cheeks, tried everything to get her to forget his face. What could she do to calm herself down? She looked around the dark room: Bisclavret was sleeping on the floor in front of the bed, but he looked undisturbed. Next to her bed was normally the latest lost book, but she let Harvey borrow M. Jasper's report on diamond yields. She knew that would have put her to sleep. She sighed, flipped over the covers, and got out of bed, bringing her blanket with her.

She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water then took it out with her to the front porch. There was a chill in the air, and she wrapped her blanket closer around her shoulders. The moon was nearly full, so it was bright in the sky, casting long, silver and blue shadows over the farm. She could hear an owl hooting and crickets chirping, and she tried her hardest to be present in the moment. But the nightmare felt so real. And, Alma remembered, that's because it was real. But it's not anymore. That's not her reality. Still, she rolled it over in her mind. She knew it was his fault; he was manipulative and narcissistic, and he had a sickness - an addiction. But at the same time, she thought back to those things he said. She knew his problems were a result of hurt. He was hurting, and she wanted to help him. Maybe she was partly to blame too. She always wondered … could she have done more? Could she have saved their marriage - saved him?

"What am I thinking?" she huffed, putting the glass down next to her. "You did everything you could. Everything. You gave him multiple chances. You sacrificed yourself so many times. And he still used you … because," and she started to feel a lump in her throat. She looked down into her glass of water and saw the moonlight reflected in the ripples. "Because he knew you were weak when it came to him. You were wrapped around his finger. Gah …." Tears began to fall, and she let them. She wept bitterly on the steps of the cabin for a long time. Bisclavret came scratching at the front door. She reached up to let him out, and he lay down on the porch right next to her. She wiped her nose and scrubbed his head.

Her mind thought of Harvey. She could see his sweet face in front of her, and she closed her eyes tight. She had never had good luck with men. They always seemed great and then, when the doors were closed and she built up her trust in them, they would take advantage of her in so many ways. What if - What if Harvey was like that too?

"No," her voice squeaked. "No, he's different. He has to be. He has to be." She thought about how concerned he'd been about her, ever since the first days she was here. She thought about what he said when he apologized after the luau, and when he confessed his feelings for her. She thought about how he reacted when she gave him the bouquet. How apologetic he was in the clinic when he got carried away. How he let her in his bed and slipped away to sleep on the couch. How he stopped himself when they were getting too intense the other morning. "He's different. He is." She looked up at the moon and sighed. "He doesn't just say the right things. He is genuinely good, and he legitimately wants the best for me. He doesn't do these things because he wants me to act a certain way or do something for him. He does them because he is good. Because he … just wants me to be okay. He … loves me." She closed her eyes tight and looked at his face in her mind. His sweet, deep brown eyes. His timid smile. His curly brunette hair with hints of red. His laugh lines and crow's feet. His mustache, his glasses. She could smell him and hear his laugh. Eric's face eventually went away. She felt peace. And as she felt more relaxed, she became more tired. She opened up her eyes again, slowly and sleepily this time, and saw the hues of indigo beginning to come on the horizon. "I can probably sleep another hour before sunrise," she thought aloud. She looked down at Bisclavret, and his eyes looked up at her too. "Wanna come back in, Biz?" She took her cup of water, wrapped the blankets tightly around her again, and went back to bed with Bisclavret at her feet.

A bit later, she awoke to a knock on the door. At first, she ignored it. Bisclavret stood and looked to the door, but Alma stayed in bed and moaned. Then, there was a knock again. "Okay, hold on a minute please!" she called. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Her overalls were crumpled up on the floor, and she slowly pulled them on over her legs. She came to the front door, still fastening the buckles on her bib. When she opened the door to the bright morning light, she squinted and saw Mrs. Mullner standing on her porch. "Oh, Granny! Good morning!"

"Good morning, dear. I hope I didn't wake you."

"Oh, well, you did, but I need to get up anyway. You know how it is. Can't sleep in even if I wanted to," she said with a little chuckle. Bisclavret rushed past her to go outside.

"Yes, yes, I do. Oh, but it was a lovely walk out here," she said with a pleasant smile that Alma found difficulty trying to mirror. Evelyn turned and looked around the land as she continued to speak. "I haven't seen this old farm in a long time. It looks even better than I remember! You have really done some great work out here."

"Well, thank you so much for saying so. I still feel like I don't really know what I'm doing most days, but things seem to keep surviving, so … I guess I'm doing something right!"

"You certainly are, dear. Here, I brought you a little something."

"Really? Mrs. Mullner, you shouldn't have!"

"It's a gift … from one gardener to another." She pulled out of her apron pocket a terracotta pot. "I thought you could use these in that new greenhouse you mentioned."

"Oh, yes! How thoughtful of you! Thank you!"

"These pots are really handy," she said as she handed the pot to Alma. "You can use them to grow crops of any season indoors!"

"Oh, wow, yes, that will be really handy with winter coming up soon!"

Evelyn nodded. "Yes, and they also look nice outside … but out here, they can only house in-season crops."

"Okay, I see."

"If you need more, they're really easy to make, too." She dug in her apron again and said, "Here, I've got an old magazine clipping with instructions." And she handed the old paper scrap to Alma.

"Granny, this is just too kind. You treat me too well!"

"Someone's got to look after you, dear! And you know I really do value our friendship. You just light up my life!"

Alma put a hand over her heart and smiled. "Well, that's maybe the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. You know the feeling's mutual."

Evelyn nodded. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I'd better go."

"Oh, why don't you stay for some coffee or pancakes? I was just about to - "

"That's very thoughtful of you, dear, but George gets grumpy if he doesn't have his oatmeal on time." Evelyn began to pick up her skirt and walk carefully down the porch steps.

"Well … all right," Alma hesitantly answered. "But please do come back any time!"

"I will, I will. Now you have a great day, honey!" she called as she waved on her way down the path.

"Thank you again!" As she watched Evelyn leave, Alma noticed there was some mail in the mailbox. The first letter was from Marnie about a new item at her shop called an Auto-Grabber. "25,000 gold?! No thanks, Marnie. Not anytime soon, anyway." Another letter was from Mayor Lewis:

"Dear Alma,

Notice a chill in the air? It could just be the approach of winter … Or it could be the tingle of a dark specter, here to help us celebrate tomorrow's festival … The Spirit's Eve. Come to town at 10 PM if you'd like to participate.

- Mayor Lewis"

Spirit's Eve was a holiday Alma was looking forward to; with wizards, monsters, spirits, dwarves, psychics, and all the other supernatural phenomena Stardew Valley had to offer, she knew Spirit's Eve should be great. She folded up both letters and put them in her pocket before looking out to the farm.

Alma saw wheat, bok choy, eggplants, grapes, corn, and fairy roses ready to harvest. No doubt this was going to be her last big harvest of the season. And as she went through the crops to gather the bounty, she also noticed that the crystalarium had stopped working, which meant another diamond was ready. She put the last diamond in the shipping bin, and it had sold for about 750 gold. Though she was a bit surprised it didn't sell for more, she still knew every bit was valuable, so she dropped this one into the shipping bin too before getting her watering can to water the crops and give Bisclavret a drink. After that, she made her rounds through the coop, barn, and cave, and checked around the rest of the farm to see if there was anything else worth picking up. As she came back to the chests at the front of the cabin and organized everything to take with her into town, she noticed her bag - surprisingly - couldn't hold all the things she needed. She had to put her tools in the chests first so that she could carry all her crops to the store and sell them to Pierre. This had been the third or fourth time now that her bag could not carry all of the items she needed, whether from the farm, from the mines, or from a fishing trip. It was an inconvenience for sure.

Alma looked at the time as she came into town; it was about one o'clock now, which meant that Harvey would be buying groceries in the store. Though at first the thought made her initially happy, she saw Eric's face from her nightmare in her mind again, and it made her shudder. "He's not here," she whispered to herself. She took a deep breath before pulling on the door to the general store.

The door chimed as she came in, and there was Harvey, who immediately turned and smiled at her. But when he saw Alma's small, guarded smile grow and then fade, his expression fell. "Hey, what - what's wrong?"

He reached an arm out to put around her, but she shirked back. "Maybe not - not today."

Harvey brought his hand back and gripped his shopping basket. "What's happened?" Alma's face wrenched, and she tried hard not to cry in the middle of the store. "Do - Do you want to talk somewhere private?" he asked quietly. Alma nodded a little, and Harvey dropped his basket on the floor. "Pierre, sorry, I'll be right back."

"No problem, Doc. I'll hold it for ya."

Harvey opened the door for Alma, and they walked together to the clinic. "Do you want to - to go upstairs or maybe to the exam room, just in case someone c-comes in?"

"Upstairs is fine," she said, the tears now making it hard to speak. Harvey led her upstairs, and when they got inside, she dropped her bag on the floor and plopped onto the couch. Harvey sat down carefully next to her, keeping ample room between the two of them. She began to wipe her eyes and take deep breaths, trying to calm herself. "I just … I had a really terrible nightmare last night. It was - vivid and painful and - and it was reliving some things that actually happened." Harvey dropped his head and sighed. Though Alma didn't say explicitly what her nightmare was about, he had a feeling, based on her reactions to him, what it was about. "I feel like I've taken one step forward and two steps back."

"I'm so sorry that happened to you - both the nightmare and the actual past event. This is something to bring up to Katherine, for sure. But is there - is there anything I can do for you now?"

Alma looked up at him and tried to keep her eyes on him. She scooted closer and put her hands on his face. She took off his glasses and looked into his concerned, brown eyes. She tried to look at every detail of his face, trying to soak it in so it could fill her mind. She felt the stubble along his jawline. Her thumbs touched the edges of his mustache. She noticed a small freckle on his right cheek, the folds of his eyelids, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the hair at the edges of his brows. "I need you in my mind," she wrenched. "I need to get him out." She could feel her breath quicken, and she closed her eyes tight, still feeling her hands on his cheeks. He put his hands on top of hers and stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs. Alma took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, it was like her whole self deflated. Her arms fell from his face, and she buried her face into his shoulder.

Harvey wasn't sure for a minute what to do, and he held his arms out to the sides. "May - May I hug you?" Alma just nodded and curled her arms into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his head on hers.

This was different from how Harvey had seen her before. She wasn't crying so much, but she was deeply scared. This was trauma, he knew. He listened to her quick, shaky breaths and took a note from her: he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, hoping that she would follow along. She noticed what he was doing, and she began to follow his breaths, inhaling deep his scent of earthy coffee and bright aftershave. Harvey breathed her in too and noticed that today she smelled like fairy roses in addition to her usual earthy scent of fresh soil. He held her for several minutes until her body began to loosen, and she seemed to calm down. Alma repositioned herself a little on his chest and asked quietly, "Would it … Would it be too much t-to ask if you might … sleep at my house tonight? I just - I just want you there. The nights can be so hard, and I don't want to be alone."

"Of course," he answered, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be there."

"Thank you."

"Would you like me to bring dinner?"

Alma sat up and wiped her face. She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I - I think I might go to the mines. I'll probably eat some food while I'm there to keep my energy up."

"Are you - Are you sure that's a good idea, to go to the mines today?"

Alma nodded. "I want to fight something. I think that will help."

Harvey slowly nodded and rubbed up and down her arm. "Well … would you like me to wait for you here, and then we go to your place together when you're done?"

"That sounds perfect," she answered quietly. Harvey nodded. She looked at him again. "Thank you."

"Of course, Alma. I love you."

She felt a hand on his cheek again. Every time he said this, Alma knew he meant it. He sounded so sincere. "I know. I know you do. Thank you." She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I love you too." She pressed her cheek against his for a moment and took another deep breath. His eyes still held so much concern, and even as she pulled away, he still gently rubbed her arm up and down to give her some comfort. "I need to go back to the store to sell my produce," she said with a big exhale. "My bag is literally full with stuff for Pierre. Do I look like I've been crying?"

A little smile of pity crossed Harvey's cheek as he curled Alma's hair out of her face. "You look fine. I'll go with you whenever you're ready." Alma looked at the space in front of her for a moment, took a breath, and nodded. She pushed herself off her thighs and stood up from the couch, and Harvey was ready to help her up if she needed it. He got her bag for her and opened every door, all the way until they got back to the store. He brought Alma's bag to the counter then went back for his basket of groceries.

"I have a lot of stuff for you today, Pierre," Alma said, starting to pull out all the produce handful by handful.

"The last autumn harvest, you think?"

"The last big one, for sure."

"Mm, yes, winter is just around the corner! It's starting to get cold outside …. That means more people come inside the shop to warm up," he said with an almost sinister chuckle. Alma shook her head with a little smile as she put the last of the produce on the counter.

Harvey came up behind Alma with his groceries and gasped when he saw the counter full of Alma's produce. "Wow! You weren't exaggerating! All of this stuff can definitely be incorporated into a healthy diet!"

Pierre and Alma exchanged a look. Then Pierre started to count things up, and Alma eyed the deluxe backpack. He was advertising it for ten thousand gold. Alma had that, though not much more than that. It would make a big dent in her savings for the next barn upgrade. But she just kept looking at it. Finally, Pierre noticed her glance. "Thinking of an upgrade, huh?"

"Yeah, a bit," she said, feeling caught and cornered.

"Well, you just made several thousand gold. Maybe you can reward yourself. The difference is only about three thousand …!"

Alma knew Pierre was using his salesman techniques on her … and they were working. "All right, deal." She pulled out the money and gave it to him, then she exchanged her backpack for the larger one.

"Pleasure doing business with you, ma'am," Pierre said with a smirk.

"That should help you in the - in the mines," Harvey said as he put his basket on the counter next.

"Yeah, it should." She got on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

"Okay, I'll be ready. Please be safe."

Alma left the store and went back to the farm to get her tools before going north into the mountains toward the mines. She pulled out the claymore from the chest and had to take off the backpack again so she could put on the scabbard. She entered the elevator and went down to the fiftieth level, which was just a ladder to the next one. The tundra boots did help to keep her feet warm on these frozen levels, but her running around, swinging the sword at monsters, and mining rocks and ore helped to keep her from getting cold too. Like yesterday, the mines seemed relatively easy. She especially seemed to be getting a lot more forageables; she had gotten winter root and crystal fruit just from the first level, and she knew those were needed in the community center. And just as she thought, swinging her sword to fight and throwing her pickaxe to break things did make her feel better. It felt good to get out some aggression.

On the fifty-fourth level, Alma encountered something new: a ghost came flying right at her, slowly making its way through rocks and cavern walls. At first, she was scared of it and tried running away, but it just kept following her. Then, as it approached, she swung the claymore, and it retreated for a bit. It came back, though, and it took several swings of the sword for it to finally fade away with a moan. As it did, it dropped something that looked almost like a little sun. She looked over it carefully before dropping it into her backpack.

The fifty-fifth level had many old wooden chests that she could easily break open, and when she did, she was surprised to see, in addition to wood, sap, and coal, a scroll fall out. Alma picked it up and wondered if it was a Junimo scroll, but when she opened up the green ribbon and unrolled the parchment, she didn't recognize the writing. It wasn't English, and it wasn't Junimo. Alma wondered what else it could be. "Gunther will know," she said to herself as she rolled it back up, put it in her bag, and continued through the cavern.

Alma worked through the fifty-ninth level, anxious to find a ladder and get home. She went through first with her sword in hand, looking for monsters. And then, after it was cleared out and free from threat, she sheathed the claymore and took out her pickaxe, mining down rocks and looking for the ladder. As she broke down the rocks, she was surprised by a frozen geode that fell out with a clink. This, too, she thought she remembered for the community center. She made a mental note not to have Clint break it open until she knew for sure. Soon after that, she uncovered the ladder, dropped down to the sixtieth level, where she was met with a chest. She heard the elevator ding as she opened the lid and saw a crystal dagger inside. It was light in her hands, especially after carrying around the claymore. She stood and stabbed the air in front of her to give it a try, and though she liked the quickness of it, she thought she actually preferred the long swing of a two-handed weapon. Still, she put it back in its sheath, tied it around her waist, and went to the elevator door.

After Alma took off her scabbards and placed them in the chest, she stepped outside of the cave and checked the time. It was about nine o'clock; not too late. She made a quick trip to the community center to drop off the items she knew were needed there: crystal fruit and winter root in the winter foraging bundle in the crafts room, the solar essence in the adventurer's bundle in the boiler room, and the frozen geode in Demetrius's bundle on the hallway bulletin board. Then she went south to the clinic and shot a rock up at Harvey's window. In a moment, he waved from the window and headed downstairs with his duffle bag over his shoulder and a plastic bag in his hand. "What's that?" she asked as he locked up the clinic door.

"I went ahead and picked us up some of Gus's dish of the day: pumpkin soup! It sounded too good to pass up." He held out an arm to escort her, and they began to walk down the path toward the farm.

"I'm not gonna lie; that does sound pretty delicious right about now."

"I thought you might think so," he said with a little smile. "H-How did it go in the mines?"

"Really well, actually. Made it another ten floors, got a lot of stuff for the community center, and got a new dagger too."

"And what about you?"

"Oh, right," she said, as if she had forgotten that was what he was actually worried about. "I'm okay. I do feel quite a bit better now. I killed a few ghosts!"

"How is that … possible? Aren't they already, uh, dead?"

"Apparently not," she said with a little chuckle.

"It's good to hear you laugh. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Me too," she said, squeezing his arm.

They approached the farm, and she gasped when they arrived. "What? What is it?" Harvey asked, thinking something was wrong.

Alma approached the keg. It had stopped churning, which meant that her first batch of wine was ready. "How about some blackberry wine to go with that pumpkin soup?" she said with a smile. "Let me see if I have an empty bottle …." She began to drop off her things into the chests, including the mysterious scroll. And as she combined the slimes she had gathered today with the other slimes in the chest, she saw that she did now have ninety-nine slimes, which she could also put into the community center later. But then she found one - an empty wine bottle. "Ah ha!" She brought it over to the keg and pulled on the tap to release the dark liquid into the bottle. She held the bottle up to her nose and closed her eyes to enjoy the scent. "Mmm, here!"

Alma handed the bottle over to Harvey who also ran his nose over it. "That smells lovely, Alma!"

"Do you think it's ready to drink? Or am I supposed to age it?"

"You can definitely drink it now. It just … changes flavor as it ages. I don't think I've ever had fresh wine straight from the tap like that!"

"Well, shall we try it? I think I could go for some wine tonight."

"It should certainly help you relax and sleep better, so, yes, I think that's a great idea."

Alma opened the door for him, and Bisclavret came bounding in too. She took her boots off by the door and placed her bag on the floor with an exhale. "Well, make yourself at home! How about I start a fire? I'm a little chilly after being in those frozen mines, and it gets so dark in here at night."

"Frozen?!"

Alma lit some torches around the room and suddenly felt like she shouldn't have said anything. "Well, yes, there are different sections of the mines. The past several levels have been icy and frozen all over. But it's not too bad, since I'm moving around a lot and staying active. Plus," she said, indicating the boots by the door, "I just got those insulated boots yesterday!"

Harvey looked unamused, and as he spoke, he took off his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. "Yes, I'm starting a fire. You need to stay warm." He went back out to gather some firewood, and Alma rolled her eyes as she went to open the plastic bag; she shouldn't have said anything, she told herself again. She took out the bowls of soup and felt that they had gotten cold, so she brought them to the oven to heat them up again. She used a small torch to light the heat source on the bottom of the oven as she turned on the gas, then she put the bowls of soup on the bottom rack and closed the door. Harvey came back in with an armful of firewood, and he began stacking them in the fireplace. She brought the same torch over to him, and he threw it on the wood and blew on it from the bottom to get the fire going. Soon enough, the wood caught, and the fire began to grow. Harvey stood up and swiped his hands clean, giving her a little smile. "That should help," he said.

"Thank you. How about that wine while the soup is heating?" She went into the kitchen and got two coffee mugs. "I don't have wine glasses, so this will have to do."

"You know I don't mind coffee mugs," he said as he watched her pour the wine. She handed him a mug, and they touched theirs together with a not-so-satisfying ceramic thunk. They both took a sip and watched the other for their reaction. "Oh, this - this can be dangerous."

"Because it tastes like juice?" she asked with a laugh.

Harvey nodded with a chuckle, looking into the mug. "It is delicious, but be careful not to drink too much. You don't want a headache in the morning."

"But you do also have painkiller at the clinic," she said as she took another sip and looked up at him over her mug.

"Well, yes, but I don't think - "

"I'm joking. I'll be careful, don't worry." She looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back with that tender smile that also showed deep concern for her. Her heart melted but then stung a bit when she remembered why he was here. "Thank you again for - for coming. I already feel much more at peace."

"I'm glad."

She looked back down into her cup. "I don't want you to get your hopes up, though; I'm not really … in the mood for …."

"I understand, Alma. Neither of us are here for that. There's no pressure to do anything. I'm just here to enjoy your company and to help you feel better." She couldn't help but compare this to what she had been used to. Nearly every night with Eric, she felt she needed to be ready for intercourse, and most nights, she wasn't mentally, emotionally, or maybe even physically up for it. She either felt like she needed to psych herself up, disassociate, or give him some excuse. And she found that the earlier she could come up with some sort of game plan, the better it was - especially for Eric, so that he wouldn't feel blindsided at the last minute and then throw a fit about it because he was unsatisfied. But now, sweet Harvey was here, simply smiling in front of her and drinking some probably not-so-good wine. He just wanted to be in the same room with her, to help her feel more comfortable.

She stepped a little closer to him and ran her hand down his arm. "I love you," she said. And just like he meant it every time he said it, she said it very intentionally now too.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

She smiled then turned and went into the kitchen to check on the soup. "Why don't you have a seat at the table? I'll bring the soup to you." He sat on the edge of the table, leaving one leg on the floor. "I really need to get a second chair, don't I?" Alma chuckled.

"It'll happen, don't worry. I'm fine here. My legs are often too long to sit comfortably anyway."

She carefully brought the soups over and placed them on the table. "You're just making up excuses now to make me feel better."

He shrugged and smiled. "Eh, maybe I am stretching it a little."

"Mm-hm, I knew it." She gave him a look as she sat in the chair. "Let's dig in!" They both took a bite of the soup and, again, looked at the other for their reaction. "Oh wow. Great choice. Thank you, Gus!"

"It is so good. Perfect for a long autumn day." He lifted up his coffee mug again, and she tapped hers against his before they both took another sip.

They went about eating their soup, chatting, and enjoying their company, when the topic came up of the Spirit's Eve festival tomorrow. "I would imagine you don't like this holiday very much, do you?"

"Absolutely not. It's at the bottom of my list," Harvey answered with an emphatic shake of his head.

"Aw, that's too bad. I'm looking rather forward to it."

"Of course you are! You're 'one with the spirits!' You just got back from killing ghosts, Alma! There is a-a fundamental difference between you and me that I don't think you've clearly grasped." Alma couldn't help but laugh. He was absolutely right. There was no way she could envision Harvey in the mines swinging at a ghost like that. Just the thought of the mines being frozen was enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Well, just stick with me then, and I guess I'll help you be brave."

"It will be the hot air balloon all over again," he mumbled before taking his last bite of soup.

"And the balloon ride wasn't so bad, was it? It ended in an overwhelming sense of pride for you - and some great smooching too! Why not conquer another fear or five tomorrow night, huh?"

"No thank you," he answered resolutely. "Though, yes, the smooching was great, that balloon ride was enough fear-conquering for a lifetime, I think."

Alma bobbed her head as she stood up to collect their dishes. "Can't argue with that." She brought their bowls over to the sink, and Harvey brought over their mugs.

"Would you like a refill?"

She looked back to him as she put the dishes in the sink and began running water. "Uh, yeah, I guess so. Just one more glass." He filled their mugs and brought them over to the counter next to her. He leaned against the counter and took a sip as she washed their bowls and spoons. "I'm glad you're not offering to help me wash dishes this time. It shows you really feel at home."

"Are you insinuating I don't wash my dishes at home? Because … well, y-you'd be pretty right."

Alma laughed. "No, I just mean you don't feel obligated to step up and help. You're more comfortable with whatever happens."

"Maybe it's the juice wine," he said with a chuckle and another sip.

"You were the one who told me to be careful when maybe it's you who should watch out for that juice wine, sir."

"I'm all right, I'm all right. This is my last mug too."

Alma rinsed off the dishes, looked him over, and said, "Why don't you go ahead and change into what you want to sleep in? I'm assuming you brought something other than your work clothes."

"I did, yes. Contrary to popular opinion, this is not what I typically sleep in. You're right, I'll go change." He put down his mug, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and picked up his duffle bag on the way to the bedroom. Alma finished the dishes and splashed her face and hair a little with water too. Just as she was drying her hands, Harvey came out in a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. "I'll be honest: it was strange changing with a dog staring at me."

Alma laughed and came toward him. "You get used to it." She handed him both of their mugs and said, "Feel free to wash up in the sink, if you'd like." She went into the bedroom, took off Harvey's flannel and her overalls, and slipped on his shorts that he had given her. She undid her bra and brushed off her purple T-shirt, making sure there wasn't much dirt on it. She really needed some more clothes to wear, she thought. She scrubbed Bisclavret's head before stepping back into the living room. "Would you mind blowing out those torches on your way in?"

"S-Sure," Harvey said, trying not to stare. He went to blow out the torch in the kitchen and the ones by the front door.

"I guess we can just leave the fire going. It will feel good through the night."

"Yes, and it'll die down on its own," he said, giving back her mug.

"Thanks." She brought it with her into the bedroom. The room was dark, but the fire light from the living room gave enough light to still see. Bisclavret lay at the foot of the bed on his rug, and she rubbed his head one more time before climbing into the bed. She went ahead and got under the sheets but sat up against the headboard. "The kitchen upgrade came with a two-person bed, so it should be a lot more comfortable for us than your bed. No offense, of course."

"Oh, none taken. You're a-absolutely right." Harvey climbed in too. He took off his glasses and laid them on the floor under the bed, then he put an arm around Alma. "Yes, a marked improvement. Sorry, i-is this all right?"

"Yes, that's perfect." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and settled into his embrace. "I usually read before bed, but someone is borrowing my copy of M. Jasper's records on diamonds."

"Oh, yes, I've been using that to help me sleep too."

Alma laughed. "It's not the most interesting read, is it?"

"No, not at all," he chuckled too.

"But do you have any more thoughts on who M. Jasper might be?"

"Not really. It could be any of the people you already suggested. Or maybe someone else we haven't thought about."

"Maybe." She was surprised that she already felt her eyes get quite heavy. "Well, I think you're right about one thing: that wine is going to help me sleep."

He carefully took the mug from her and placed both of their cups on the floor. "I hope so, darling. I hope you sleep well." He lay down more flat in the bed, and she put her head on his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too, Harvey." She repositioned herself a bit so she could see his face. "I want to look at you again before I close my eyes. Really get you in my mind."

They looked over each other's faces in the dim fire light. Alma reached her hand to feel along his cheek and jaw, and she smoothed her fingers through his hair. Harvey closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingers scratching along his scalp. Then she moved in a little closer and kissed him softly. She found she had some trouble letting go, and she kissed him again, a little deeper and harder. She moved her hand to the back of his neck, he put his hand on her back, and soon, they were tangled in each other's arms in a long, passionate kiss.