Author's Notes: I've rewritten this story who knows how many times since I first came up with it over 10 years ago. It's been posted to numerous accounts I've held over that time. No matter what, it always pops back up in my life, baiting me into returning to Mineral Town, to the cozy characters and magic that was Harvest Moon in my childhood. Here is official rewrite #4, including major changes and, hopefully, improved writing. Cheers.

The Ballad of the Forgotten Girl

Chapter One

The pinky promise had been sealed nearly fifteen years ago. Best friends forever. And yet, it had been close to ten years since we had spoken. We had been inseparable from kindergarten to sixth grade. A young budding boy and blossoming little girl. We were blind to that difference, however. The only things we cared about were building the biggest sandcastle, climbing to the highest point of the jungle gym, and beating as many levels in The Legend of Zelda as possible. He had been my soulmate, in a way. It didn't take much for him to understand me. The moment we sat down in the reading circle together when we were five, something clicked. Something beautiful had happened.

I met Gray Williams.

He had hair the color of raging flames that curled playfully away from his head. His big blue eyes were orbs that held all the oceans within them. His skin was always creamy and smooth, accentuating his bright attributes. He sure was something else as a child. Without even trying, he captured the attention of all the grown women in the room. They boasted he could be a model in a Sears catalog and encouraged him to try out for sitcoms and movies. He was always bashful, almost embarrassed, to be told how cute he was.

Maybe that's why we had worked so well together. He had enough color for the both of us. I was very mild compared to him. Pale blond hair with blue eyes not quite as rich as his. While waves practically crashed over his eyelashes, mine resembled more of a rippling puddle of rain. My hair refused to hold any sort of curl or ringlet. It was stubborn in its ways, opting to merely fall over my shoulders, defiantly straight. Maybe I was just a plain Jane, especially when standing beside him, but again, it never bothered me. Gray never made me feel that contrast. We had been much too wrapped up in having the best weekends and even greater summers.

Gray Williams had been a light in my dark world.

My home life wasn't always the best. From a very early age, I understood that I was a derailment. I systematically destroyed things, whether I realized it or not. My mother was on track to be an environmental lawyer. It was a passion that ran deep in her blood and bones. The news of her acceptance into law school came across the counter just hours after the positive pregnancy test did. Her parents were furious. They berated her and immediately refused to fund the rest of her education. Her boyfriend, my father, wasn't much better off than her. He was a construction manager. He stepped up, but maybe because it was only 'the right thing to do'. He kept his crummy job to keep the money flowing, while my mother floundered into the role of a paralegal; far below the level of power and responsibility that she had set out for. They got married before I was born. But, again, probably because it was 'the right thing to do'. Our household was always divided. Every evening was like groundhogs day; my father drinking himself stupid in front of the television, throwing his dinner in the microwave. My mother was often marred with migraines at the kitchen table, crunching numbers on a calculator, sighing when she realized the numbers would never work for continuing her education. I just stayed out of their way. It was easier.

But Gray Williams had picked me.

He was the only one who had. And, I was beginning to fear, the only one who ever would. My shell collector, my rollercoaster buddy, he was everything to me. It was just an infuriating, frustrating thing I had to contend with in the aftermath. Him being gone and me being absolutely nothing. Even four years out of high school, it felt like I hadn't accomplished a thing because of him. Part of me didn't want to believe that losing the Williams' family was the reason for how I was. But I knew, deep down inside, it contributed. I burned out once I realized I was at square one again. That nobody truly loved me anymore. That I was alone.

Gray Williams, though, wasn't going to be some forlorn collection of letters and vowels. It wasn't just going to be hurtful noises anymore that stung my tongue and undid my heart strings. I was going to make the name Gray Williams have meaning again. It was going to rejuvenate me, not deflate me. I couldn't sit by passively anymore. The monotony, the emptiness - it was eventually going to catch up and kill me. I needed answers. I needed closure. I wanted to know the how's, the why's, the what if's. I had to see Gray's face, learn about who he became. I'd never rest again, I was certain, if I hadn't finally decided to confront myself, and for once, bet on myself.

Just two weeks ago, I found myself on the hot concrete sidewalk of a place that made me shudder. There wasn't a single thing misplaced in the pristine neighborhood. Distantly, the sounds of The City rang out with construction and honking horns. Nothing was out of order. Every house was the same exact color. The same cars were parked in the driveway. It seemed like no one enjoyed change. I squinted against the sun and my heart flipped in my chest when my eyes caught sight of a familiar shade of blue. The shutters were the color of clouds and the yard was perfectly manicured. Homey rocking chairs creaked on the porch in the soft spring breeze. I stood at the end of the walkway, staring past the mailbox where Williams was boldly painted.

The house was so familiar it made me nauseous. I wanted to run, but at the same time, I berated myself for spending the last decade away. I had every opportunity to come visit. I couldn't quite pinpoint what kept me away. Soul crushing depression brought on by the family dynamic I was left to navigate? The fact I had no escape? I swallowed roughly. Maybe that had something to do with it. There was an embarrassment, a deep seated regret, inside of me as well. It felt like I had caused it. That everyone was right about me. I brought unhappiness in my wake. My feet compelled me forward, creaking up the short steps. The light gingham curtain was entirely unchanged. My breathing was growing uneven as I lifted my hand. Once my knuckles rapped against the wood, I knew there was no going back. But it was time to start taking chances. It was time to start defining myself.

It didn't take long for the curtain to twitch. The door creaked the same way I always remembered. I almost cringed. But, instead, I held myself steadfast as a familiar face came into view. For the first time, I finally noticed something different. Wrinkles that had accumulated on the woman's face. Green eyes that were not quite as shiny as I remembered them. Hair that was just a bit more ashen. However, the way the muscles in her face curled and tightened, I was very familiar with that. She seemed almost hurt at first. Surprised next. But then, she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around me tightly, scrunching her hands up against my cardigan. It made my heart pound. That maternal touch, it hadn't changed one bit. She touched me like I was her own.

"Claire Hanes…" she drew back now, looking at me with glassy, but happy, eyes. "I haven't said that name out loud in years. It's so good to see you, you're looking well. I was just brewing some coffee. Would you like to come in?"

As I looked at her, it felt as if I was seeing an entirely different lifetime. One that I only dreamed of, like it was completely made up. "That'd be nice," I smiled.

I stepped into a time capsule. The olive green couch was still there. The outdated TV she'd never upgrade. The old mahogany hutches full of china handed down through generations. And on the wall were a million memories I had swallowed up into my darkened soul. Pictures of a young Gray, sporting a smile of missing teeth. A snapshot of us holding up tiny fishes we found in a lake. I closed my eyes tightly, however, as I passed the wedding photos that were meant for royalty. I entered the spacious kitchen, decorated in various shades of gingham. She gestured to a seat at the empty circular table for four as she went to the counter and began shuffling around for mugs. I sat down rather tensely, my hands sheepishly tucked between my legs. The walls were still covered in old oil paintings depicting rolling hills and lush pastures. On top of the fridge sat her old cookie jar of a black and white cat. I remembered the many times my hands were prying inside of it. In the next moment, my thoughts were interrupted when she placed a piping hot mug of coffee in front of me. She smiled in her characteristic maternal way. Like the good host she was always remembered to be, she set a ramekin of raw sugar in the center, along with a small glass jar of creamer. I preferred my coffee black, but she set to fixing hers as she sat across from me.

"I wish I had known you were coming," she grinned as she tapped the sugar in her mug and stirred. "I would have taken the time to make cookies."

Those damned cookies. Homemade, they could have created world peace. I had easily eaten half a dozen every single day after school for years. Every time we were let out for the afternoon, Gray and I came here until his parent's could pick us up. And, without fail, those cookies were sitting on the kitchen table, warm, soft; absolutely everything a cookie was supposed to be. Fresh hints of vanilla extract, gooey chocolate chips, and a dash of nutmeg. It was a trade secret she held dear. We were only lucky she had perfected it by the time we were eating them. I took a sip of my coffee. It was rich and smooth, a top shelf bean I could never afford.

"I haven't had a cookie in years," I told her, realizing the silence was going on increasingly long. She was patient, as usual, gripping her mug closely. Her graying hair was pulled up into a bun at the crown of her head. The buttons on her lavender shirt glistened in the sunlight pouring into the kitchen. "It's hard to eat one when it isn't made by you, Miss Williams."

She paused, her mug hovering just inches from her lips. "Miss Williams? You've never called me that. Has it really been that long?"

The hot coffee seared down my throat as I looked at her across the table. "Ten years," I finally said. "Ten years in September."

She shook her head, as if time simply evaded her. "It's been an entire decade since anyone has called me Grandma Williams." Slowly, she sipped from her mug, looking out the window briefly. She then met my eyes. "You came all the way out here to see me?"

I couldn't help but feel bad in that moment. I didn't write. I didn't call. I had practically evaporated. Despite only a half hour distance between us, I stayed away like that house was the plague. Grandma Williams was looking at me intently, still with a face of no judgment. I felt a well of emotions inside of me. I suddenly regret the last ten years of my life. I had floundered uselessly in sorrow, in loss, without considering she had also gone through the same thing as me. My knuckles turned white as they tightened around my mug.

"Grandma Williams," I said. It was like music to her ears. "I think I've finally reached the end of my rope. And looking back at it all, I realize I've made a lot of mistakes. I've lived with tons of regret. But I woke up today deciding it can't be like that anymore."

"You know you can always call on me, Claire-Bear."

That familiar nickname sent a rush of blood across my temples that warmly pulsated. "I'm… so sorry for being absent, Grandma Williams. I just - I don't know. I guess I didn't know how to deal with all of it."

She nodded in understanding, lowering her mug to the table. "It was too much all at once, sweetheart. We all had to cope in our own ways. I surely hope you haven't spent all this time thinking I've been angry with you. I've only wanted the best for you, Claire."

"And, unfortunately, I haven't been my best," I replied, shaking my head. "But I'm fed up with all this wallowing I do. I want to be better, Grandma Williams."

"What can I do to help?"

The words were barraging at my lips. What I always thought, longed to finally say, were right there. I had spent the past ten years with that sentence whirling through my mind. I had always been so scared to say it, as if what had happened was my fault and I deserved punishment. There could be no more of that, though. I deserved a chance. I breathed in deeply. My moment had come.

"I want to know where Gray is."

She sat back in her chair, the smallest of sad smiles on her lip. Grandma Williams drank from her cup slowly, as if relishing in the sound of his name being spoken out loud in so long. "I had a feeling. You certainly were two peas in a pod. You were both my world." The tears in her eyes were infectious. I felt the warm saltiness, the pulsations, as I tried to keep it together. Grandma Williams sat forward and reached across the table for me. I was quick to meet her hand, feeling the etches of the bones beneath her thin skin. "I knew this day would come, Claire."

"Have you kept in contact?" I asked, as a lone tear fell down my cheek.

"Not directly," she shook her head. "Only through… the letters that came from him."

"Gray's grandfather?" It hurt to even say as I remembered that bleak September afternoon.

"Mineral Town," she said. "That's where you'll find him."

"Where is that?" I furrowed my brow now, turning my head to the side.

Grandma Williams smiled. "Yes, that's what everyone asks. It's a small little island across the channel amongst the Goddess Isles."

The name rang a faint bell from my geography classes in school. "What's the airport called? I'll book a flight immediately."

She laughed now, drawing her hand back to delicately touch her protruding collar bone. "Oh, sweetheart, there is no airport. The only way there is by boat."

I sighed and sat back now, resting my hands in my lap. Mineral Town. It seemed so far away, so unattainable. Getting there was a hassle. But he was my best friend. I thought about him endlessly. I'd go to the corners of the universe for him. Slowly, I licked my lips and looked to the window shedding light.

"I guess I'll figure things out."

"What will you do?" Grandma Williams asked, arching her eyebrows.

"I don't know," I told her, trying to mask any deflation or defeat in my tone. "But I'll do something, I'm sure."

A seagull squawked overhead, pulling me from my daydreams. The crisp spring air was coming over me, salty from the ocean. The sun was beginning to break through the cloud cover and I tilted my face up to it. Beneath me was my meager luggage. Two suitcases. My entire life fit into them. I placed my hand above my eyes, spying something out on the horizon. Maybe it was the boat I had called for. It could have been a buoy. I didn't care, I'd wait all day for their arrival. I glanced over my shoulder at the bustling city behind me. I wouldn't miss the sharp skylines, the constant jackhammering, or heavy fumes. I wouldn't miss my job or my apartment that had a view of a concrete playscape of cars. I was letting it go. It was a bold decision. Adventurous for someone like me who always hid in their shell.

The words Mineral Town echoed through my head endlessly since I had left Grandma Williams' house. Gone were all the worrying, dizzying thoughts of not knowing where Gray was. With my newfound knowledge, I was instead piqued with curiosity and a bit of nosiness, too. I had gone straight home from Grandma Williams', simply allowing the bus to bob me around. On the couch in my meager studio apartment, my fingers glided along the keyboard of my laptop. I was hesitant to hit enter into the search engine, but the moment I did, I was surprised to see it had its own website. It was vibrantly blue, the flashing animated text borderline outdated. An old, grainy photo greeted visitors in the center. It was an aerial shot of the island with the edge of an airplane wing cutting across the side. I leaned in towards my laptop, studying the picture. Lots of trees, lots of water. I didn't see anything else going on. At the top of the website, there were only three tabs. Offers. Life. The Harvest Goddess. My hand hovered over the pad as I stared at the first one. Maybe the mayor needed an administrative assistant. I had a very healthy resume for anything having to do with papers, files, number crunching, and phone calls. Even though that seemed very lame for a twenty-two year old person. When I clicked it, however, I was greeted with an assault of rainbow colors.

BEAUTIFUL FARM FOR SALE!

At nearly thirty acres, the description on the website used the words 'beautiful', 'wonderful', 'nostalgic', and 'perfect' over and over and over again. It was 'well-equipped' with a farmhouse, a chicken coop, a barn, a stable, and a large field for agriculture. It bordered against a pleasant stream, had plenty of trees, and the property was secluded. 'Ideal', a 'dream come true', the website touted. Slowly, my eyes fell to the bottom of the page.

ONLY $24,999. CALL TODAY.

I pressed myself into the throw pillow behind me. Beyond my balcony, I heard the agitated honks from the beginning of rush hour traffic. Near me, the clock on my nightstand ticked, ticked, ticked… It was becoming increasingly loud in my ears as my laptop sat in front of me, my eyes transfixed on the outdated website. I blinked rapidly, though, and stood up, sliding my computer onto the coffee table. I paced a few steps in my studio apartment, my hands on his hips. I paused and glanced back at the screen, but then I shook my head and laughed. Me? Owning a farm? I couldn't even keep a pothos alive in my apartment. I approached the back of my couch, looking at the aggressive blues. Affording it and managing it were two different things. I laughed at myself again before I leaned over, folding my laptop shut. Owning the farm would be crazy. I'd just have to carve some time out to take a formal visit.

Nearly a week stretched since seeing Grandma Williams' and my inner struggle was growing bigger and bigger within me. I knew where my best friend was, the most important person from my childhood, and yet I was doing nothing with that knowledge. It was not at all how I expected any of this to go. I always told myself that the moment I found out, I'd take off without a second thought. And yet, I found myself reporting to work as normal. The insurance office I worked in was monotonous. Phone rings, clickety-clack on the keyboard, print file, write on folder, put away in alphabetical order, repeat. Nine days after learning about the existence of Mineral Town, I left work as normal, but walked the opposite direction of my apartment; straight to the library. In the back corner, I curled up on a recliner and surrounded myself with books about raising cattle, herding chickens, and successfully growing crops. I found myself fascinated with the different recipes of compost for a varied desired effect on soil. There were so many breeds of chickens, they came in practically every color imaginable. The pictures of frothy, marbled milk posed with shiny wheels of cheese inspired me that with enough patience and determination, maybe I had a calling to become a great artisan myself. My eyes were dry from practically not blinking at all. The tall windows in the library were dark now as dusk set across the city.

Could I do it? Or was I dead crazy?

The next morning, I called into work. I bobbed my knee anxiously as I laid in my pajamas late into the morning. My landline lay skew on the bed beside me as my mind wandered back to the farm listing. I had never so deeply considered blowing twenty-five thousand dollars on anything. What I truly wanted was to find Gray again. To hear his voice, catch up, just see him. But how would I be received if I randomly showed up, a sudden landowner who has never even touched a chicken in my entire life? When I sat up, cradling the phone into my lap, I looked around my apartment. I had been trying to make it in The City for the past four years. It was constant work and frugal spending. And in all that time, I hadn't even amassed five hundred square feet of my own. For the entirety of my bank account, I could have thirty acres and be my own boss. I could take a bet on myself. Something I'd never thought to do. My slippers padded across the hardwood floor as I crossed to my tiny dining room table and opened my laptop. The screen glowed bright blue as it showed the listing I had been hung up on for days.

This was an opportunity to escape. Something I never thought would happen. I tilted my head back to look out the window. The city was so tall and endless, confusing and lonely. I was born and raised here, but it certainly did not feel like home. What was here for me? It didn't matter how much the city grew, every newly paved street was a dead end for me. I set my phone on the table and crossed my arms over my chest. With enough time, patience, and devotion, I could learn anything, I was certain. I wouldn't be the best farmer right off the bat, but I thought, in that moment, anything was better than The City. I took a deep breath as I took the phone in my hands, slowly dialing the first few numbers in.

This wasn't entirely for Gray. This was for me, too.

The phone rang four times before someone picked up. It felt like an eternity. I balled my cardigan up in my hand as I slumped into my chair, staring intently at my computer screen. It took a lot of courage for me to tell the man with the somewhat stocky voice that I was interested in the farm. He seemed incredibly surprised at first. I heard another incredulous voice in the background. I chalked it up to the fact it was so remote, they couldn't believe a perfect stranger would take the leap into the unknown. The stocky voice became incredibly excited in the next moment, telling me a brief history of Mineral Town. The population was less than thirty people. My algebra class in high school had been bigger than that. When I pulled my bank card out and rattled the numbers through the phone, I knew I was sealing my fate entirely. The land was mine. At eleven forty-two in the morning on a Thursday in The City, I became a farmer. The stocky voice was so full of joy and song as he told me he'd send a boat for me in a few days. When I hung the phone up and set it on the table, I was absolutely still, as if processing what I had done. And then, I squealed shrilly, just like the man on the phone.

Quitting my job had been a rush of excitement I had waited for far too long. I packed my entire apartment up and broke away from the few materialistic things I owned. My life was so tiny and unassuming here in The City, it didn't take long to completely deconstruct it. I spent most afternoons in the library, filling journal after journal with notes about animals, crops, and farming in general. I fantasized about the types of chickens I would get. How their eggs would be speckled and produce the shiniest, most golden yokes. I starred my notes on parsnips and tomatoes. Those would be the first crops I tackled. I tucked my hand under my chin, tapping my pen against my notebook. I imagined the farm with its rolling lush grass and wide open fields. My heart fluttered when I considered that Gray would be there, too. Maybe throwing feed out for my ruckus of chickens. Or carrying a basket of produce under his arm as he helped me collect all of it. There was so much hope I had for Mineral Town. I had never been so hopeful in my entire life.

I blinked rapidly and looked up to the sherbet sky. Evening was descending on The City and the boat from Mineral Town was gliding smoothly into dock. I had spent all day waiting, but I didn't mind. I kept my back to the large urban city behind me. I only wanted to look forward to the ocean that would lead me to my future. I would never have to answer another call with fake professionalism. Or sit at the desk, staring at the bland wall. I wouldn't have to hear all my coworkers talk about their life achievements while I felt stagnate, as if I were glued to that stiff and lumpy office chair.

In the next moment, a tanned man with broad shoulders and toned, physical arms came off the boat and deftly tied the rope to the pier. His brown hair was buzzed short, his tank sleeves frayed and bobbing in the wind. He towered nearly a whole foot over me. I stood up, slowly, taking into account that this was the man I was about to be alone with on a boat for nearly two days. The second he turned around, however, I was caught off guard by a beaming grin that easily reached his dark eyes.

"Hey there," his voice was clear despite his razor-sharp appearance. "You must be Claire Hanes."

"I am," I approached him, holding my hand out. His bear of a hand enclosed mine and I thought every little bone was going to snap. He gave my wiry arm one curt shake before he put his hands on his hips, where his tank top tucked into form fitting cargo pants.

"I'm Zack. Mayor Thomas sent me from Mineral Town."

"Great," I nodded. I then sheepishly stepped to the side and gestured to my two suitcases. "This is everything."

Zack seemed a bit surprised at first as he grabbed the handles like they were nothing more than pillows. He cast a fleeting glance at The City. I'm sure he was offended by the smell compared to where he had just come from. With no effort, he placed the suitcases onto the deck to be hauled down into the bunks below. He dusted his hands together before he turned me, his eyes lingering.

"The mayor said you bought the farm," he told me. "Where's all of your equipment?"

"Well," I felt a bit foolish, tugging my shirt down around my hips. "I'm starting fresh."

He didn't seem all too accepting of the answer, but Zack decided not to push it. I'm sure he was exhausted from his travels here and he still had to do it all over again. I wonder how many times he had to pull a four day streak of not sleeping to shuttle people to and from Mineral Town. His giant legs stepped forward and pulled himself easily onto the boat. Zack then turned to me and offered his hand.

At that moment, it was into the unknown. Everything I had ever known, though never loved, was about to evaporate from my life. It was unsettling despite how indifferent I was to all of this. But my bank account was empty. My boss would forever hold a grudge against me. There was no one here. Finally, I reached forward and took hold of his offered hand. He pulled me aboard and turned to look at the sparkling sea now filling my vision.

Get on the boat? Check. I was well on my way to Mineral Town.