CAW-CAW-CAW-CADOODLE-DOO!
Gasping for air as though clawing her way to the surface of a turbulent lake, Ella sat bolt upright and slammed a hand down on the crowing rooster-shaped alarm clock. Foggy dream-memories of braided green hair mingling with panic swam before her eyes, only to fade as her sight adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight filtering in through her small window. Soon, only the vague dread of a near-forgotten threat lingered.
Ella collected herself and took a moment to soak in the quiet solitude of a countryside morning. It was almost enough to convince herself that nothing from her dreams was real. Sitting up, she gave her back a good crack and slid her feet into the boots at her bedside, socks already folded inside. She had learned the hard way from one sliver too many that walking around barefoot was not going to fly in this rundown cabin.
At the foot of her bed, a sleek black cat stretched and flipped over onto her back. The hungry little thing had come part and parcel with the farmland, Ella had discovered, and had taken a liking to the blonde farmer.
"Morning, Dusk," Ella said, giving the cat an affectionate rub on the chin. A wet nose followed by a warm tongue pressed against her shin, and she smiled down at her puppy, River, who demanded her attention now. "Hey, boy."
River's tail wagged so hard he nearly fell over. He was a comforting and familiar sight; he was one of her mother's dog's puppies. One day, she hoped to keep chickens, and she'd need something fast and toothy to chase away foxes or other wild dogs that might have an interest in them.
"Ready to get to work?" she asked him. River barked and raced towards the door, all energetic joy. Dusk rolled over and went back to sleep. Ella tried not to let her eyes linger enviously on the cat's languorous form.
As she knelt to lace up her boots, her stomach growled. "How does fish for breakfast sound?"
River barked again and ran back to lick her face. Ella grinned. "Good boy."
The puppy followed her outside of the farmhouse, and together they squinted in the early morning light.
It was easier to bury herself in work than to put on a brave face and socialize. Another big deterrent was knowing that the first questions on everyone's lips were going to be about why she had moved to the Valley and where she had come from, and she just did not feel prepared to talk about any of that.
Fleetingly, Ella wondered if she was a coward. Then she shook her head and headed for her stable, where her pride and joy was kept: a gelding named Oakley.
"Good morning," she called, stepping into the single-stall shelter. A large chestnut horse snorted and looked up at her, then walked forward to nuzzle into her outstretched hands. "Hey, big handsome boy! How are you, huh? How did you sleep? Do you like your new stall?"
Oakley lipped at her hands and then her pockets, hoping for a treat. Ella rolled her eyes and gently pushed his head away. "Not right now, you goofball. Come on, let me put your halter on."
She led him out into the grassy field and unclipped him from the lead, letting him roam and graze. The sight of her horse at peace in her field made her heart swell. She allowed herself to imagine the field as it may one day be: brimming with healthy produce, tall green stalks bending under the weight of their own fruit, a wide grassy field dotted with dairy cattle and sheep...
Ella's eyes shot open. She dashed back to her cabin and went digging in her largely unpacked suitcases until she found her sketchbook and pencils. Running back outside, she sat cross-legged under the tree where Dr. Hardy, Dr. Trent, and Elli had picnicked the day before and set feverishly to sketching her vision.
Her pencil seemed to have a mind of its own as it flew deftly across the page, leaving dainty blades of grass, velvet-eyed cows, and juicy tomatoes ripe for the picking in its wake. Gone were the rickety old barn and coop, replaced by impressive two-storey constructions with spare hay bursting generously from the lofts. And in the corner of the field, a girl in overalls sat with her chin resting on her knees, looking out upon it all.
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With her newly planted seeds watered and after having cleared as much wood and stone from the field as she could possibly take for the day, Ella decided to venture north of Vesta's farm, where Takakura had indicated she could find a mine. The Mineral Town mine, she knew, had proven invaluable to her mother when she had first taken over her own farm, and Ella knew she would have to get comfortable with prospecting for ore in order to keep her own tools in tip-top shape. Unfortunately, mining and tool care was not something she had much experience with—now Ella wished she had paid more attention to how her mother cared for her tools.
Another benefit to spending the morning doing her farm chores was the fact that the Valley was fairly quiet by mid-morning, with all commuters having made their way through town and most other townspeople quietly enjoying their morning in their preferred haunts. Ella stole out from her farm and made her way quickly across the bridge, surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder to ensure she was out of the sight of any interested parties. Once at Vesta's property, she made her way north, just barely escaping the notice of Vesta—which would have likely led to another attempt at marrying Ella off to Marlin (or another breakfast invitation, which would have been nearly as mortifying). Just as Takakura had promised, at the waterfall north of Vesta's farm, Ella came upon a broad canvas tent and a corded-off archaeological site with a small staircase leading underground.
Uncertainly, she crept down the stairs, her hammer slung over her back. "Hello?" she called, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the dim lantern light. "My name is Ella. I, um, I just moved into the farm here in the Valley. I heard there was a mine here? Do you mind if I—?"
"Ella?" came a familiar voice, cracking mid-syllable in disbelief. Ella froze at the bottom of the stairs.
There, just inside the mine shaft, stood a lone figure in a beige jumpsuit. She watched his jaw drop as his eyes registered on her.
"ELLA! What the hell! You're here? This is where you've been?" He moved towards her, wielding a formidable-looking hammer and a wide grin.
"Gray!" Ella closed the distance between them and hugged him, dropping her own hammer in the dirt. She felt tears welling in her eyes as the familiar arms enveloped her. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? What the hell, who cares why I'm here? Why are you here? You're the one who disappeared without telling anyone!" he retorted scoldingly. The apprentice blacksmith held her at arms' length and glared down at her. Ella found herself unable to look away from him, though his critical blue gaze filled her with shame. She had befriended the young man years ago when his parents had sent him to Mineral Town, quite against his will, to study the family trade under his uncompromising and often ornery grandfather. He had become as close as a brother. "Why didn't you tell anyone where you were going? You're not that far away, we could have helped with the move. What's going on? How long are you staying here?" Seeing her pinched expression, the apprentice blacksmith stopped himself with effort.
"I'm sorry, Gray. But I'm really glad you're here." Ella bit her lip, noticing two other figures gazing curiously at them from the far end of the chamber: a dignified-looking man in a waistcoat and a curly-headed woman in a tank top and cargo shorts. The farmer lowered her voice. "Is there somewhere more private we could talk?"
Gray hooked a thumb towards a doorway hewn into the stone of the wall. "The mine proper is over there. Let's check out the goods and we'll talk. I have to do some prospecting for Gramps anyway."
Ella was eager to follow her old friend but less eager to answer all his questions. Maybe she could even pick up a few tricks from him while he was here. If she could become half the prospector Gray was, then managing her toolkit would be a piece of cake. Still…as exciting as it was to see him, her stomach turned at his questions.
"So," Gray said, hefting up his hammer, "This is the place to be for you, huh? Forget-Me-Not Valley?" The hammer's head came down with great force on a rocky outcropping on the mine floor. It was clear the young blacksmith had many questions for his friend but was trying to rein them in, sensing her discomfort. She could tell he was making an effort not to stare.
Ella watched him take another swing, studying his form. "I guess I—yes, it is. I guess I just, uh, didn't want to...I didn't want anyone to freak out that I was leaving. Or, I wanted to come before I lost my nerve, maybe. I don't know." The words were just falling out of her mouth. Ella had no idea what she was saying—she hadn't planned to run into anyone from Mineral Town, and suddenly, they were everywhere.
"Well, that's insanely stupid. You just disappeared. We were all kinds of screwed up until we got your mom to give us some answers. All of us. You should have seen Ann and Popuri! They freakin' lost their shit." Gray was not one to mince words.
Ella winced and tried not to imagine her friends' hurt upon discovering that she had left suddenly without saying goodbye. She mimicked his posture and aimed at a rock, trying to appear casual, but she was worried. "I'm so sorry. I really am. What did my mom say?"
Gray leaned on the shaft of his hammer and regarded her sidelong. "She said you were following your dreams." There was an irony in his tone that Ella didn't fail to notice.
She snorted. "I suppose that's true enough." Taking a small step forward, she brought her hammer down heavily on the rock. It split open and something glittered within. Triumphantly, she knelt to collect it.
"That's junk ore. Worthless. Weak and soft. See how dull it is? Sometimes you might mistake it for iron, but iron has more of a sheen to it if you hold it in the light." He took it from her and scraped it against the metal of his steel-toed boots. "Though, interestingly enough, it can be used like flint to spark up a fire if you're in a scrape." He tossed it at the wall and gestured at another rock. "Try that one. So, what, you're telling me you couldn't just wait for your mom to retire?"
"She never will!" Ella assumed the rock-smashing stance again. "She'll be at the farm, lassoing cows around, when she's three hundred years old."
"Hmm," Gray said, watching her closely and sounding unconvinced. The boy was too smart.
"How's the old master?" Ella slammed her hammer into the rock, and it cracked. The metal within twinkled invitingly. She lined up her hammer to swing again.
Her friend rolled his eyes. "His fiery, asshole-y, stubborn usual self." He smashed open another rock with a single heavy swing, and what appeared to be gold shone up at him. "You keep changing the subject. Yeah, I saw through your brilliant scheme. Just – Ella. Why didn't you tell anyone what you were gonna do? Why didn't you tell me, or Ann? I couldn't believe that not even Ann knew you were gonna up and move away out of nowhere and not even tell anyone where you were going. Why the hell wouldn't you say anything?"
She flinched. "Gray, I'm sorry. It's complicated, okay?"
"That's all you have to say?" Gray snapped. "Why are you being like this? Why is everything a secret with you all of a sudden? Why can't you talk to your friends about what's going on in your head?"
He stopped, realizing that the farmer looked like she might cry. Awkwardly – the apprentice was never very good at expressing comfort – Gray wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. "Sorry. You should have told me to shut up. You'll…tell us at some point, right? 'Cause we wanna know."
Ella nodded, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek.
"Well... I'll try to come as often as I can. And I'll see if any of the others want to come with me. I bet Ann will."
"That would be so great," Ella murmured, composing herself. "But you don't have to come so much. You've got your own lives too. I'll be fine. I'll make friends. I'm likeable, right?"
Gray released her. "Likeable, or really annoyingly stubborn. One way or another, you forced me to be your friend."
"Exactly. And if nobody likes me, at least I have my farm." She took another few swings at the rock and beamed as it finally split open. Gray smirked.
"Hey, look at that. Silver ore."
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Windows were always a distraction for Trent, but he couldn't imagine not having one in his office. It had been a busy day, the first-ever business day at his new position as the Mineral Town doctor, as townspeople came in to meet him and Elli and have their records updated. He'd even had a first official checkup with Jeff, the nervous-looking supermarket owner, whose wife Sasha had quietly warned Trent that he should get used to seeing him. (A lot.)
The day was winding down, and Trent was staring at a tree just outside his window, its leaves drooping as rain began to fall. He was thinking about all the points he wanted to make in his journal tonight. He wanted to be able to reread the details of this day forever; relive the feeling.
It was a bizarre feeling, though, he thought, the achievement of a lifetime goal. He somehow expected…more. Here he was, a licensed physician installed in a rustic little town, as he always dreamed he would someday be. Yet he still felt – restless.
Elli joined him at the window, securing the buttons on her raincoat. "I'm going to check on Granny and Stu," she said, referring to her little brother and her grandmother, Ellen, who had moved into town with her. Her nursing supported them both. "Maybe go to Doug's for a drink or something, okay? People here are nice. The red herb can wait." She smiled. "I know you're thinking about it."
He wasn't, but he turned to her and smiled . "Give Ellen and Stu my best." Elli nodded and headed out into the rain.
The doctor considered her words. He was sure the people were nice; everyone he had met so far had been. But right now, he just really wanted nothing more than to brew a nice hot cup of tea or coffee and retreat upstairs. Write in his journal, or read.
Or... he could take a walk, familiarize himself with the town. This was his home now, after all, and maybe it could be the first place to feel like one.
He stepped out, pulling the hood of his windbreaker over his head. Trent had always liked the rain – his parents had been avid gardeners and he liked to think about how the rain gave the flora a long, refreshing drink.
Trent splashed through the puddles gathering in the worn paths in the cobblestone street. He smiled and nodded to those who passed by and rehearsed their names in his head: there was Rick, whose family owned the poultry farm, probably heading uptown to see his girlfriend Karen; Karen's mother Sasha, who owned the supermarket; Mary, the demure librarian, who smiled shyly as she passed; and further downtown, the bar and the winery. At the far south end of town was Claire Kelley's ranch.
It had been a busy day, and one that would likely prove to be very routine. But busy didn't mean fulfilling.
Downtown now, he pondered this while pacing past the smithy where Gray and Saibara worked the anvil. He passed the poultry farm and turned right, following a winding path into the wood south of town.
Trent loved forests. The quiet majesty in the motionless, ever-reaching trunks, the whisper of rustling leaves. The peace and tranquility of nature's perfect cyclical balance.
The trees were a cacophony in the rain. Drops beat down on the leaves like a chorus of tiny drums. The bottoms of Trent's dress pants were soaked as he stepped through the muddied grass, but he didn't mind. He passed Gotz's cottage, a merry sight in the rain as its chimney spewed clouds of smoke. No doubt the woodsman was warming himself by the hearth after a hard day of rugged work. Trent wondered if Gotz had found contentment, living alone in the solitude of the forest with only the trees and his craft for company.
Trent had intended to be keeping an eye out for chokeweed, but instead he found himself following the path towards the south end of Ella's mother's farm.
Standing just beyond the bridge over the river at the end of her property, Trent put his hands in his pockets and surveyed. The field was lumpy and muddy from the rain, with small pools of water gathering in the lowest ground. Small green sprouts dotted the field – Claire had been busy planting before the rain. The short wire fence outside a small building that Trent imagined was the chicken coop was empty, and the windows of the barn were lit up with a cheery glow. All the animals were comfortably inside, out of the rain.
It was a pretty, tidy bit of land, all green pasture and neat sections of crops. Trent wondered how long it would take Ella's rundown tract to look like this.
His shoes were beginning to soak through, and the doctor took that as his cue to turn back for the clinic. After changing into his flannel pajama pants and a plain shirt back at his room on the upper floor of the clinic, he pulled out his journal. Writing helped him clarify his thoughts. He was often surprised at the simple truths that appeared in the pages of that journal, so obvious and real, but never apparent until they were written in his own hand in front of his face.
Day 1 of The Dream. All went perfectly according to schedule. The townspeople are a friendly and interesting bunch.
I'm looking forward to the rest of the week as well as my next visit to the Valley. Hardy is really a great instructor – he's experienced everything. Compared to him, I feel like I'm hardly prepared to be running a clinic at all.
Wondering now what one does after one has accomplished what they have spent their entire life working towards. Maybe I was expecting a bit more panache from my first day. I likely need to give myself more time to let reality set in. It's not really that I'm unhappy – I suppose I just expected to be happier, But I suspect it's one of those cases where it seems that everyone else has their lives figured out and you're always a step behind. Maybe everyone feels this way. All the same, I need to give things more time before my feelings settle.
I spent some of my time in the Valley yesterday collecting red chokeweed – as Ella calls it – for my research. There's an abundance of it there, especially on her farm. I wonder if she would entertain the idea of growing a patch of it for us? I'll ask her about it next week.
I wonder if farmwork is always fulfillling.
Trent was sort of looking forward to seeing Ella again, too, he realized. Not just Hardy. He snapped his journal closed without recording anything about that. It made him feel peculiar, even though he knew his interest was tied to watching her farm progress and finding more chokeweed. Still... it would have been an uncomfortable thing to write and have to look at again every time he reread the entry.
He stuffed the journal between his mattress and the bedframe and rolled over, ready for sleep.