Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

She was “the farmer” to Shane. Sure, Marnie had told him her actual name, but he didn’t really care. When she had taken over the old farm in early spring, Marnie had let him know that what’s-her-name had moved in, and that was it for a while. He didn’t see or hear from her, and his days carried on as they always did. The routine was all at once comforting and numbing; each day was the same as the last.

Then, she walked into Joja Mart.

Shane had barely noticed; he tried to keep his awareness of anything in Joja Mart to the absolute minimum. Really, he had only realized somebody was trying to interact with him when the girl crouched so she was at eye-level with him.

“Hi,” she said.

Shane gave a grunt of recognition, and returned to stocking the shelves. She took the hint, got up, and left. Roughly thirty seconds later, Morris was standing next to Shane.

“Shane,” he asked, “what was the first thing we covered on the first day of orientation?”

Oh, shit. “Customer satisfaction?”

“Yes. Now, that young lady came and left without spending any money. Can you think of anything that could have caused her to have an unsatisfactory experience?”

Shane sighed. “Could it be that I failed to engage her in a friendly and welcoming manner?”

“Yes, Shane. Please keep that in mind the next time somebody stops to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Shane, try to smile.”

“Yes, sir.”

The day passed as they usually did; slowly and forgettably. By the time five o’clock rolled around, the Stardrop Saloon was calling to him from across the river. Shane changed out of his uniform and managed to avoid eye contact with Morris as he booked it out of the front door. This was the daily routine: his path to the Stardrop had been so ingrained in his mind that he could do it blindfolded and half dead. He’d drink in peace for a few hours, go home, and hopefully be able to sleep. He was so caught up in his schedule that he didn’t even notice her until they ran right into each other.

“Oh! Sorry!” She was short, her hair messy, sweat clinging to her brow. It was the girl from earlier, and Shane knew that this had to be the farmer. “I didn’t mean to run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shane muttered, and continued on his way.

“Hey, I recognize you.” Damn it, she was walking with him. “Do you work at Joja Mart?”

“Yeah.”

“I saw you today! I’m sorry, you must have been busy when I tried talking to you. I just moved here.”

Shane sighed. “I don’t know you. Why are you talking to me?”

“I-I just thought I’d-”

Shane picked up the pace, and, thank goodness, the farmer stayed where she was, still stammering. He arrived at the Stardrop at the same time he always did, ordered his beer, like he always did, and stood by the fireplace in silence. After several hours and several pints, Gus caught his eye, and Shane knew that was the signal to pack it in. By the time, there was only him and Pam left, and they traded the sort of glance that comes to people who are routinely the only folks left in the bar at closing.

Marnie’s house was dark and quiet by the time he slipped through the front door. He had enough time to microwave a frozen pizza (waiting so he could hit “stop” with one second on the clock), which he ate standing up in the kitchen. Once his dish was washed and he was satisfied that he’d left no trace of his presence, he stole upstairs to his room, on the drowsy side of being buzzed, crawled into bed, and stared at the wall. After a while, he finally fell asleep.

It was maybe a week later, and the day was uncharacteristically warm for spring. The air was heavy and close, and the smell of flower petals was everywhere you went. It was, by all accounts, a beautiful day, but Shane was hungover, and everything felt cloying under the heat of the afternoon sun. He just wanted to get indoors with a beer and some pizza. The only thing that could have made this worse was being stopped by somebody he didn’t want to talk to, which was everyone in town.

“Oh! Shane!”

He turned around and saw the farmer coming toward him, her arms loaded with parsnips.

“Hey, I was hoping I’d run into you. Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I just moved in a couple weeks ago.” She stuck out a hand for him to shake, and he saw that it was covered in bandages and patches of raw skin. He did not motion to return the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Shane looked at her with bare disinterest, pulled out his wallet, withdrew a few crinkled bills from it, and pressed them in her outstretched hand. She looked up at him, confused.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m paying you five dollars to leave me alone,” Shane explained. “Don’t spend it all in one place, now.”

“I just-”

“Do you want ten? Is that how much it would cost for you to take a hint?”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted-”

“Don’t care. Look, go make friends with other people. We’ll both be happier, that way.”

It was a second time he left her on the road, and Shane hoped it would be the last.

It wasn’t, of course, but Shane could dream. She was at the egg festival too, smiling and talking to everyone, laughing and joking like someone who had been in the town for years instead of days. Shane swallowed his distaste and ladled some punch into a cup. He wasn’t going to let her ruin this for him; everyone at Marnie’s ranch had worked hard for this festival, and he was proud of what their efforts had yielded. Even Jas had helped, gingerly plucking eggs from the hutch and telling Shane that she didn’t want to hurt the babies inside. That had especially made him proud.

He took a swig of punch and immediately choked.

It probably wasn’t noticeable to many people, but someone had definitely spiked the punch. He immediately found Jas in the crowd, and then Vincent, and felt a surge of relief that they hadn’t gotten to it. He did notice several people who were holding cups of the stuff, one of them being the farmer. She was red-faced with laughter at something Sam had said, which made sense, because to Shane he really only seemed tolerable after ingesting grain alcohol.

“Shane!” Jas came running over, her smile wide. “I want some punch.”

“Well, you can’t have any.”

“How come?” Jas demanded.

“Because it’s bad for you. Go ask Aunt Marnie for some water.”

“But you’re drinking it!”

“Yeah, well that’s because I don’t have my whole life ahead of me like you do. No punch.”

“No fair!”

“Come on, Shane.” Marnie had pulled herself away from conversation with Lewis long enough to intercede on Jas’ behalf. “It’s the egg festival, and she’s been such a good helper.”

“Here,” Shane said, offering Marnie his cup, “why don’t you try it and tell me what you think?”

Marnie eyed him suspiciously, took a swig, and Shane watched as her expression shifted to muted horror.

“No punch!” She announced.

“But Aunt Marnie!”

“Let’s go get you a drink of water.”

“Aunt Marnie!” Jas continued protesting as Marnie hauled her away from the refreshment table. Shane considered the cup in his hand, drained it in one long swallow, and tossed it into the garbage. He saw Pam on the other side of the plaza, looking mighty smug. Even if she hadn’t, though, he could have guessed that she was behind the punch. He considered saying something, then quietly decided against it.

“Lewis.” He tapped the mayor’s shoulder. “Keep the kids away from the punch, okay?”

“Why?” Lewis looked alarmed. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Not if you’re of age. Just tell Jodi to watch out for Vincent, okay?”

Lewis looked suspicious, but Shane brushed past him to a more secluded corner of the courtyard. The farmer was still there, her hands outstretched while Leah cringed over her numerous blisters.

“You got all of those from clearing out your farm?” She asked, possibly drunk.

“Yeah! I guess I’m not used to handling a pickaxe yet.” The farmer was still smiling, her eyes fixed happily on Leah.

Oh, he hated her.

Shane’s resentment of the farmer didn’t subside through most of spring; in fact, it only seemed to grow the more he saw her interact with the other residents of Pelican Town. Any time he saw her, she was smiling, giving gifts, and he even saw her high-five Sam once, which he considered to be an act of unbridled deviancy. But later on, if someone were to press him, he’d say that the first turning point was on his birthday. It was a Friday, and he was at the saloon, desperately trying to enjoy himself. The farmer walked in with a carton of fruit, which wasn’t unusual for her; she often came to the saloon to distribute presents to people. What surprised him was that she walked over to him and presented him with a carton of green beans.

“Look,” she said, “I know you’re not really interested in being friends, but happy birthday.”

“These are for me?” Shane asked, eyeing her with suspicion. Green beans weren’t his favorite thing in the world, but he didn’t exactly hate them, either.

“Yeah, freshly harvested.” She smiled, her expression hopeful.

“I’m surprised you’re still trying to make friends with me,” Shane remarked, setting the green beans down beside his beer. “Haven’t I been rude enough to you yet?”

Her expression fell, and she shrugged. “I guess you have. Anyway, happy birthday.”

Shane watched her return to the bustle of the saloon and strike up a conversation with a few people, her expression never really lifting into its usual cheeriness. Shane did his best to hold down any nagging feelings of guilt as she left, but got an unwanted jolt of surprise when he turned and saw Gus glaring at him.

“What?” He asked.

“She gave you a birthday present, and you don’t even say thanks?”

“Look, it’s no big deal. She doesn’t want to be friends with me, she just hasn’t realized it yet.”

“You should apologize,” Emily chimed in from behind the bar.

“Apologize?”

“She remembered your birthday!”

“That is the exact opposite of what I want,” Shane shot back. “Nobody else remembered, and that’s exactly how I like it.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.”

The evening rolled by, and Shane felt drunker than usual when he left the bar and wandered home. The river was choppy that evening, and the moonlight was pebbled along its surface so it looked almost like cobblestone. At that moment, the thought of just walking into it and never walking back out came and went from Shane’s mind like a flash of lightning, there and gone in less than a second.

He crept into Marnie’s house and saw a slice of cake sitting on the table with a single candle in it; next to it was a bouquet of daffodils and dandelions, fashioned with the crudeness and care of a young child who was obviously trying her best to make something nice-looking. The note next to it read, in penmanship too nice to belong to Jas, “Dear Shane, happy birthday! Love, Jas and Marnie.”

Shane felt like there was a rock in his gut. It was some mix of feelings he couldn’t wrap his thoughts around, and didn’t care to parse anyway. He gently set the carton of green beans down beside the cake, and only then did he realize that he’d brought them home.

Home. That word was still ill-fitting in Marnie’s house, where he’d only lived for a few months. Without much thought, he popped a green bean in his mouth. It was delicious. Of fucking course it was delicious.

Whether he realized it or not, Shane was a complete mess by the time he crawled into bed, and maybe that was why he didn’t find sleep until it was almost morning.

Chapter Text

Four days after Shane’s birthday, he had to contend with another irritation of Spring: the Flower Dance was coming, and Marnie insisted he attend. Shane tried to demure; he had work, nobody was going to want to dance with him anyway, and it was just going to be an afternoon of standing around with his hands in his pockets. But Marnie wasn’t taking no for an answer, so Shane mustered up all of his personability on the twenty-third, and approached Morris after lunch, when Morris was most likely to be feeling generous.

“Hey, Morris,” Shane said, carefully weighing his boss’ mood.

“Shane!” Morris had a smile that looked like it had been shellacked onto his face; you could only really measure his attitude by his eyes, and Shane was deeply unwilling to make any more eye contact with him than absolutely necessary. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, the town’s Flower Dance is tomorrow, and I was wondering if I could get off work early so I can go.”

“Ooh, the Flower Dance. Do you have a partner?”

Hearing Morris say the word “partner” caused Shane to inwardly recoil, but he tried to keep himself congenial. “No, no. But it’s a big thing for the town, and my aunt… she kind of wants to see me there.”

“You’ll have to make up your hours.”

“That’s okay.”

“All right, then. You can go at two tomorrow.”

The dance would be almost halfway over by then, but Shane wasn’t sure if he wanted to be there any more than he wanted to be at Joja Mart, so he thanked Morris, and went back to stocking shelves.

By the time Shane was out of his uniform and at the fairgrounds the next day, the dance was in full swing. There were booths, food, and colorful streamers were adrift in the warm spring air beside the faint sound of music. Marnie waved him over immediately.

“I’m so happy you came,” she said, giving him a hug.

“Shane, look!” Jas tugged on his hand. “Look at my dress!”

She was wearing some nightmare tulle and ribbon confection with small roses embroidered all over it. “You look great!” Shane said, ruffling her hair.

“Aunt Marnie got it for me special,” Jas boasted.

She wasn’t the only one who was dressed up for the occasion; the ten participants in the actual Flower Dance were also wearing their best regalia for the event, and they somehow looked even worse than Jas did. Everyone in town was milling around, making conversation and eating. And, yes, even the farmer was there, and she had even saw fit to scrub the mud off of her boots. That was probably a step up for her, Shane mused. She caught his eye, and for one horrible moment he thought she’d come up to talk to him, but she wisely turned away and went over to talk to Leah. Shane watched, bemused, as they engaged in small talk, and then he saw Leah half-smile, and shake her head “no.” The farmer shrugged, traded one last sentence, and went on her way to talk to someone else.

Shane briefly wondered if he’d just seen Leah shoot her down, but that couldn’t have been it. They seemed like best friends the last time he’d watched them talk to each other. And anyway, wondering about who was dancing with who was stupid, the whole event was insipid, and he made himself busy at the refreshment table.

After a while, the music swelled, and Lewis called everyone together to watch the centerpiece of the afternoon: the actual Flower Dance. The ten young folks in the town stood opposite one another and began their choreographed routine (which, it goes without saying, was the most stupid thing Shane had ever seen in his life). But, for one moment, he saw the farmer standing across the floor, watching the proceedings with something that looked a lot like sadness. It passed in a heartbeat, and she smiled and applauded with everyone else when the dance concluded. Shane caught himself feeling pity for a moment, and shooed the emotion away. She had probably just learned she couldn’t buy friendship with lots of presents, and hey, maybe that was a lesson she needed to learn. She looked fine when Marnie engaged her in conversation, so she was probably fine, and it’s not like it was any of Shane’s business anyway.

All town festivals were annoying, Shane thought, but the most annoying part was that the saloon remained closed afterward. The sun was long gone by the time the festival ended, but the idea of packing it in early wasn’t especially appealing, so Shane pulled a few bottles of beer from the fridge at Marnie’s and walked down to the lake dock to drink. Summer was just around the corner, for sure: the night air was warm without being too humid, and the air smelled like flowers. It wasn’t a bad place to get loaded. Who said he couldn’t be outdoorsy?

He was halfway through his third bottle when he picked up the sound of footsteps coming down the path. Wondering if he was going to spot some revelers, Shane turned, but only saw the farmer with a fishing pole slung over her shoulder. She stopped and looked at him at the exact same time he spotted her, so there was no plausible deniability. He wondered if she’d try to engage him again, but she only turned away and continued walking.

Somehow, that made him feel worse.

Summer arrived, and with it came heat, torrential rain, and the smell of the ocean washing over the entire town. This was possibly the only time Shane actually appreciated his job at Joja Mart, because it was one of the only buildings in town that had air conditioning. He suspected several villagers had caught onto that fact as well, because he sometimes overheard Morris grumbling about people coming in to loiter. The oranges were beginning to come in on the trees, the ground was littered with spice berries and grapes, and, most importantly, Jas’ birthday was on the fourth.

By the time he hurried home from work that day, sweat pouring off his brow, Marnie was setting a large pink cake on the table while Jas bounced up and down on her chair with glee. When Shane walked in, she rushed over and hugged him, and promptly recoiled.

“Shane, you’re all wet!”

“It’s called humidity, Jas, and when you get older, you’re going to hate it, too.”

“Jas, why don’t we wait to cut the cake, and let Shane get changed?” Marnie was busy poking candles into the cake.

“Fine,” Jas pouted. “But you better hurry!”

Shane booked it upstairs, and stripped off his hoodie and shirt. He managed to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and frowned--he was gaining weight. Whatever, it was his cousin’s birthday, and if the kid wanted cake, he’d buckle down and eat the whole thing for her. He pulled on a replacement shirt, and managed to make it downstairs as Marnie was lighting the candles.

“Shane, the new lady brought me ice cream today!” Jas announced.

“Did she?” Shane asked, and waited for Jas blow out her candles.

“She did, and it was very nice of her.” Marnie began cutting the cake, and dished the first (and largest) slice to Jas. “She actually came around to buy chickens, but I mentioned it was Jas’ birthday, and she surprised her while she was taking lessons with Penny.”

“That was… nice of her,” Shane said, accepting his own slice of cake from Marnie.

“”You don’t have to be so cold to her, you know.”

“What? I said it was nice.”

“I think she’s lonely up there in that big farm,” Marnie continued. “It was before your time, but I remember when her grandfather tended that place. It’s just empty fields and sky up there. That’s a hard place to be, when you’re fresh from the city and you don’t have any friends.”

“Can we talk about me?” Jas interjected.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Marnie smiled down at Jas. “What did you learn from Penny today?”

“Penny taught us about forest ecology!” Jas exclaimed, her eyes as wide as saucers. “She showed us animal tracks, and showed us different kinds of trees, and she said maybe we’ll have a field trip up there!”

“Now, that sounds fun!”

“And she was telling us about the mines, and how there could be a whole ecosystem down there nobody’s ever discovered!”

Marnie raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t mention taking you there, did she?”

“No, she said it was too dangerous for people. Aunt Marnie, can I go play with Vincent? We want to go down to the beach and look for crabs.”

Marnie took Jas' plate and set it beside the sink. “Is anyone going down there with you two?”

“Sam said he’d go.”

“Okay, then. You tell Sam I said hello, and thanks for keeping an eye on you.”

“Thanks, Aunt Marnie!” Jas gave her a hug and ran outside. As Marnie sighed and closed the door behind her, she redoubled her attention on Shane.

“Shane, all I’m asking is for you to be kind.”

“What’s it matter what I do?” Shane asked through a mouthful of cake. “She seems to be fitting in fine.”

“I just feel bad. Did you know nobody agreed to be her partner at the Flower Dance?”

“That dance is stupid, anyway.”

“Shane, I’m asking you, adult to adult. At least thank her if she’s kind enough to give you a birthday present next year.”

“For the love of-you heard about that?”

“Of course I did.” Marnie began wrapping up the remains of the cake. “Emily told Hayley, who told Clint, who told Lewis, who mentioned it to me.”

“Does the entire town know about that?”

“Shane, it’s a small town. Word gets around. My point is, maybe try not to ruin her day.”

Shane sighed. “Fine. Okay. I’ll try to be nicer.”

“Thank you.” Marnie wrapped him in a tight hug, and Shane felt a small jolt of surprise. “Shane, I know the past few months have been hard on you. They’ve been hard on me and Jas, too. But it means a lot to her that you’re here, and it… it means a lot to me that you’re here too.”

“It’s no problem, Aunt Marnie.”

“I know. She’s just growing up so fast, Shane. I wish her parents-”

“I know. I do too.”

“You’re kind for listening to me.” Marnie pulled away and dabbed her eyes. “I’m proud of you, for what it’s worth, for coming out here with her. Anyway, the night is still young. You should go outside and stretch your legs.”

“Yeah, I think I will. Do you need help bringing the chickens in?”

“No, the girls are all inside. You go take a stroll and relax. You work so hard.”

The night air was warm and humid, but Shane still felt somewhat naked without his hoodie on. Now he had nothing to slouch over his shoulders and jam his hands into in a moment of nervousness. Between that and his talk with Marnie about Jas, the day felt like a complete wash. And, somehow, that farmer had even managed to get his aunt to give him a lecture.

For fuck’s sake, Shane mused, she really was just the worst.

It was the following evening that Shane had taken up his usual post in the bar and was somewhere on his second beer when the farmer walked in. This wasn’t so unusual; she came in more or less on a regular basis, and Shane had grudgingly made peace with that. This time, she arrived, ordered a beer, downed it in quick order, wiped her mouth, marched over to Shane, and set down a small carton of produce on the counter beside him.

“I know you hate me,” she said, her eyes locked on his, “but I wanted to give you these.”

They were the most beautiful hot peppers he’d ever seen. “How’d you know these are my favorite?” He asked.

“Lucky guess. Look, just take them.”

“Why are you giving these to me?”

“My granddad used to tell me that a garden isn’t a garden if you just sit on all your produce. You need to give the first crop away. So, here’s my first crop of peppers.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Shane said, and then remembered his conversation with Marnie. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Okay. Bye.”

She wheeled around and marched out of the bar, and as he watched her go, Shane caught Marnie smiling into her glass of wine.

Chapter Text

Shane managed to go most of summer undisturbed by the farmer. As the season picked up, her visits to the saloon were less and less frequent, and when she did show up, it was to knock back a pint and then go on her way. The report from Lewis (who had told Marnie, who had then told him) was that she was throwing all of her time and energy into her crops and animals. Marnie had found her an old dog to keep her company, and she bought a cow and a hen. She did turn up at the luau holding a bunch of potatoes, and he heard her say, “I hope they’re alright!” Like they weren’t going to be the absolute fucking best things in the world, which of course they were, the soup was incredible, and even the governor thought it was amazing, because that perfect farmer from up the road just happened to make it so special on her first try.

In fact, the luau was the only time Shane did get to insult her, and he had botched it. She had ventured a hello to Shane at the snack table, but she had caught him when his mouth was full, and he had to shoot from the hip. The best scathing reply he could offer was, “Wow, you don’t get hot pepper chutney like this in the big city.” He had meant it as a dig, to imply that anywhere she was from (and he had somehow remembered she was from the city) could never offer hot pepper chutney this good, but she had only smiled, nodded, and went to go strike up conversation with someone else. He had considered chasing after her to explain how he had slighted her, but his heart just wasn’t really in it anymore. Maybe she was an overzealous weirdo with a pathological desire for popularity, but man, those peppers she’d given him were really good.

The rest of the summer passed slowly and without much to remark on, save for two events. The first happened at night, as Shane was heading home from the Stardrop in what had turned out halfway through his walk to be a torrential downpour. He was forced to take cover under the awning of Sam’s house and pray that nobody was up late enough to see him loitering right next to their kitchen window. Soaked to the skin, shivering, and more than a little drunk, Shane tried to keep his cool as a tremendous roll of thunder crashed over Pelican Town, and a jagged lance of lightning tore through the sky.

Then, he saw her.

It was the farmer, trudging down the muddy path next to the river, mindless of the summer rain. She didn’t know if it was the darkness or the booze playing tricks on him, but she looked like a different person. Her hair was gathered away from her face, and her eyes had taken on a grim, hardened look. She was holding a bag that was heavy with something lumpy, and-holy shit, was that a sword? She had a sword, just casually hanging from her belt. Where the hell in Pelican Town do you get a sword?!

Shane was sure he was hallucinating. It was late, he was drunk and tired. There was no way that farmer, who had looked like she was going to cry about getting shot down at the Flower Dance, was the same person currently skulking home in a rainstorm, her eyes fierce and predatory. Then, she turned and looked right at him. With her face in full view, he saw a large cut on her temple, her hair matted into the blood on her face. She looked at him for a moment, pressed a finger to her lips, smiled, and continued on her way.

Shit, Shane thought, message received. Like he was going to tell anyone what he’d seen while creeping around next to Sam’s house, anyway. After a while, the rain let up, and he booked it home as fast as he could, slipping in the mud several times in his haste to just get the fuck back inside before any more weirdness could find him. He was an adult, and he liked to think of himself as rational, but suddenly the night seemed full of unseen dangers. There was no such thing as the Boogeyman, Shane told himself. At least, not in Marnie’s house, which always had the sweet smell of hay to it and a lot of rooster-themed decor hanging around.

Shane crawled into bed and decided that the sooner he could go to sleep, the sooner he’d wake up to the morning sunlight and the awful routine of another day, where there was no weirdness to ruin his evening. He spent the next day hungover and exhausted, and by the time he left work, the events of the previous night seemed so far away that he has more than willing to write them off as some weird trick of his imagination. The farmer couldn’t have a sword. What do farmers need with swords? He knew that she did have a fishing pole. Maybe she was heading home from an evening of night fishing with her catch, and he had managed to dream up the rest. The thunder and lightning had certainly helped make things creepier than they would have been otherwise.

But what about the cut on her head, then?

Maybe she slipped, Shane told himself. The path was wet. That was probably what happened. She slipped and rushed home to patch herself up, and Shane had seen her in a moment of vulnerability, bleeding and in pain and looking like a wild animal. That was why she had motioned for him to not tell; because falling on your ass when you’re fishing is embarrassing. This was a good, rational explanation, Shane decided, and he was going to stick with it. It made more sense than the idea of a young woman traipsing around in the dark with medieval weaponry.

That night, at the saloon, the farmer happened to be there. She did her usual schtick of handing out crops, and Shane tried not to notice the bandage taped to her temple. Emily, of course, fell over herself so she could comment.

“What happened?” She asked, handing the farmer a beer.

“Damndest thing,” she replied. “I was clearing brush from the back end of the farm, and I guess a tree branch got bent, and when it snapped back into place, it caught me right in the head.”

Of course she did, Shane thought to himself. Like he’d said to himself earlier, slipping on your ass is embarrassing.

“Oh no!” Emily opined. “Do you need anything? I have some salve that might help it heal faster. It’s all organic!”

The farmer caught Shane’s eye in that moment, and she smiled at him. It probably meant nothing, Shane thought, but he caught himself bolting his beer down a bit faster that night.

The second event happened one day in midsummer, when Morris approached him as he was preparing to go to lunch.

“Shane!” His enthusiasm was not a welcome sight. “I need a favor from you.”

“Sure,” Shane replied, trying to keep his face neutral.

“I need you to work late tonight.”

“Tonight?” The idea of keeping his voice neutral suddenly became much harder. “Tonight, tonight?”

“I’m very sorry, but we’re getting a shipment of Joja Bluu in, and corporate wants it on the shelves before opening tomorrow.”

“How late are we talking?” Shane asked.

“Well, the shipment’s supposed to arrive at eight...”

“Eight?”

“As soon as we have it stocked, you can go home. And I’ll let you take some time off later this week to make up for it.”

So I don’t get overtime at the end of the week, Shane thought miserably. “Sure. I’ll do it.”

“Shane, thank you.” Morris smiled toothily at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Shane tried to avoid cringing. “I knew you were a good worker.”

When it was all said and done, Shane managed to get out of Joja Mart at ten-thirty that night. His back ached and his knees were stiff, and he was going to have to get up bright and early the next morning to do it all again. Alone in the dark, he felt tired and defeated.

The Stardrop was still open, but he didn’t much feel like interacting with people. He wanted to sit with his thoughts and a drink, and he suddenly remembered the dock by Marnie’s farm. It was as good a place as any, so he snuck a few bottles of beer from the fridge and went to go sit by the water.

So, he mused, this was his life: eleven-thirty on a summer night, drinking alone, stuck in a job that was eroding his body and his spirit. And what choice did he have? He had to take care of Jas, and Marnie’s business wasn’t going to cut it when she had to go to college. She needed a future. She deserved the future he obviously wasn’t going to get.

Shane had just about emotionally mired himself as deep as he could go when he heard someone walking down the path. He already knew who it was going to be. The footsteps paused, and then he heard them continue onto the dock.

“Up late, huh?” He said without looking up.

The farmer settled lightly to his right, and they spent a moment looking over the still waters of the lake. The peepers were singing in the distance.

“Here,” Shane offered, handing her a beer. “Have a cold one.”

The farmer looked at him with an expression that suggested she was expecting a trap. Still, she accepted the beer silently. Shane really had no idea what to say to her. He didn’t really have the energy to insult her at the moment. Instead, he decided to take a stab at making conversation.

“Buh… Life.” He took a sip of his beer and prayed that the conversation wouldn’t be as bad as that opener.

The farmer hadn’t replied yet. She was looking at him, and he couldn’t place her expression. Was it sadness? Concern? Pity? What did he care? He was feeling all of those things about himself at the moment, anyway. Shane had never been comfortable with the silence between two people, and, having the sort of emotional vulnerability that comes with drinking, something inside of him cracked. He began talking again.

“You ever feel like… no matter what you do, you’re just gonna fail?” He asked. “Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep you can’t even see the light of day? I just feel like like no matter how hard I try… I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.” In response, she tipped her head back and downed the entirety of her beer. In spite of himself, Shane felt a sudden fondness for her. “Fast drinker, huh?” He smiled, in spite of himself. “Woman after my own heart. Just don’t make it a habit. You got a future ahead of you still.” The enormity of that statement hit him dead in the chest, and he suddenly felt worse than he had at the beginning of the night. “How come you haven’t said anything?” He asked.

The farmer shrugged. “You looked like you needed someone to listen.”

“Y’know, I wish Marnie had warned me that we were getting a Girl Scout as a neighbor.”

The farmer laughed. It wasn’t what he was expecting; it was a warm chuckle from deep in her chest, unlike the usual guffawing she did when she was socializing. How different was she when she wasn’t putting up some sort of act, he wondered?

“Can I ask you a question?” He said, suddenly bold.

“Sure.”

“Why do you need everybody to like you so badly?”

It was a long time before the farmer spoke again, and Shane wondered if he’d crossed a line.

“I just want it to feel like home,” the farmer finally said, her voice soft and sad.

Shane felt his spirit crumple. “Look,” he replied after taking another generous swig of beer, “I’m sorry I came off as rude when we first met. I just… It takes me a while to warm up to strangers. Especially with strangers as, uh, forward as you.”

“I get that. Maybe I was a little overbearing.”

“You don’t need to do that, you know. I mean, I’m a jerk, I get that, but the folks here, they’re not half bad. Be yourself. You can’t rush fitting in. Don’t tell them I told you any of that, though.”

“Thanks.” The farmer smiled at him without her usual manic zeal, and Shane realized she actually looked like a normal person when she wasn’t sunburnt and handing out vegetables like they were candy on Spirit’s Eve. Who are you? He wanted to ask. How can you be the same person I saw in the thunderstorm? What the hell are you always doing out here at night? But it was too much. He was tired, physically and emotionally, and suddenly having another person next to him felt unappealing.

“Welp,” he said, getting up, “my liver’s begging me to stop. Better call it a night.”

“Me too.” She stood up, and shouldered her pack. “Goodnight, Shane.”

“See you around, farmer.”

They walked the length of the dock in silence, and he wanted to say something, but whatever it was eluded him. She offered him one last tired smile as she walked north to her farm.

You’re not so bad, Shane thought to himself. That’s what he wanted to say to her.

Chapter Text

In the last days of summer, Shane could feel a chill coming in at night, and it seemed like he had less and less daylight between him and the Stardrop after work. The farmer was still something of a rarity in town, and when she did appear, she was usually hauling rocks or carrying a bundle of fish. Shane was relieved she didn’t try to earn any points with him using those.

The end of summer was marked by the Dance of the Moonlit Jellies, and although Shane would never admit it, it was one of his favorites. He, Marnie, and Jas gathered with the rest of Pelican Town at the beach, and while Jas booked it for the end of the dock, Marnie hung back. “That dock is mighty old, and there are a lot of people on it,” she chuckled. “I’m not taking any chances.”

“Shane!” Jas shouted. “Do you see any?”

“It’s still early,” Shane said, looking into the dark water. “They’ll come, Jas. Be patient.”

“But I wanna see!”

“You’ll get your chance.”

The farmer was there (of course) but she was engaged in conversation with Lewis when she spotted him, and she flashed him a smile. The night was actually busy; everyone was talking to everyone else except, it seemed, him. He spent a while alone, looking out into the water next to the dock, and then felt a tap on his shoulder.

“So, what’s this thing about?” The farmer asked, standing beside him.

“Every year, the moonlight jellies pass by the town on their way south for the winter,” Shane explained. “It’s a big deal here. People have been talking about it all summer.”

“Look!” Emily was pointing out toward the open ocean. “I see something!”

There was a flicker of light beneath the water’s surface, then another, and then several more. It was as if the moon was suddenly reflected in the waves a hundredfold. It was beautiful. Even Shane would admit that.

“Shane!” Jas tugged on the hem of his hoodie. “I can’t see!”

“Alright, kid. Come here.” Shane hoisted her up onto his shoulders, and heard the farmer chuckle. She was looking out at the waves, but she still had a little amused smile on her face.

“What do you think?” Shane asked, watching the parade of jellies float through the ocean.

“It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Nature’s amazing. Some scientists think the same jellies make the trip, year after year.”

The farmer raised her eyebrows. “Impressive.”

“I think so. I know some people believe in a higher power, but why, when you have so much wonder right here?”

“Shane!” Jas gently bopped the top of his head with her palm. “Can we move closer?”

“I won’t keep you,” the farmer remarked. “See you later, Shane. Have a good night, Jas.”

The light show in the ocean was beautiful, but even so, Shane caught himself watching the farmer as she walked away.

It was officially autumn the following morning, and it seemed like the leaves and grass had yellowed overnight. Shane’s schedule at Joja Mart didn’t change much, but the autumnal shift had thrown Marnie into a near frenzy, because it meant that the Stardew Valley Fair was right around the corner. Suddenly, it felt like Shane had two jobs.

“Shane, can you help me sort through the eggs tonight?” Marnie asked. “I need to pick out the best ones for my booth at the fair.”

“Marnie, you’ve got two weeks,” Shane tried to reason.

“Between the harvest and the eggs and the cows, it’s not enough time. Just see if there are any duds in the bunch and get rid of them. Oh, and can you do me another favor?”

“Sure,” Shane sighed.

“Can you bring this fodder to our neighbor up north? I’m not sure she’s as prepared as she thinks she is for winter, and I don’t want her animals to go hungry.”

“Marnie-”

“Please? You don’t have to make conversation, just drop it off with this note for her.” Marnie shoved the sheaves of wheat into his arms all at once. “It won’t take you an hour.”

Shane knew better than to outwardly complain to his aunt, but his thoughts on the road up to the farmer’s house included the phrases “errand boy” and “itchy hay.” The southern part of her farm was still all long grass and trees, and the occasional fallen branch (which he tripped over, quite naturally). He heard a deep bark, and saw a droopy-looking hound bounding through the rolling grasses, its head occasionally breaching the surface like the world’s ugliest dolphin. He tried desperately to ford his way to open ground while the dog, still mostly unseen, sniffed his legs and slobbered all over him. Just as he was about to reach open earth, a whistle echoed over the grass, and the dog bolted to the farmer.

“Your animal is a menace,” Shane griped, setting the fodder beside the farmer’s silo.

“Who? Daisy?” She farmer readjusted the large straw hat she was wearing. “Never! She’s a lady.”

“You named her Daisy?”

“She looks like a Daisy.”

“Lady, I don’t know what kind of daisies you’ve seen on this farm, but you might want to check for any toxic waste dumps nearby.”

“You’re funny.” The farmer began piling the fodder into her silo. “Hey, I was about to head over to the old community center, but if you want, you can go meet the hens.”

Shane tried not to react with visible excitement. “How many have you got?”

“Oh, we’re up to five, now. I upgraded my coop.” She smiled proudly. “Come see!” The hens were still picking around their enclosure, clucking and scratching through the dirt. “We’ve got Blanche,” she said, pointing, “Rosie, Trudy, Stella, and that one.” A black hen at the far side of the enclosure looked up, and narrowed its eyes at them. Shane disliked the note of intelligence on its face.

“What’s that one’s name?” He asked.

“Charlemagne the Quiet. Her egg just showed up in the coop one night and I decided to hatch it, but… I don’t know, but she always looks like she’s up to something. And, look! Over there I have my cow.”

Across the yard, a large, brown cow ambled through the grass, taking in the autumn sunshine. “What’s her name?” Shane asked.

The farmer half-mumbled something in reply.

“Sorry? Didn’t catch that.”

“...Moo Paul,” the farmer repeated in a small voice.

Shane decided to ignore that and switch gears. “I didn’t expect this farm to be so… big.” He looked around at the neat patches of vegetables. “You’ve been busy.”

“Summer was kind of a rough season, but I got a lot of brush cleared and crops grown. Still have to do something about that greenhouse, though.”

Off in the distance, a ruined greenhouse sat in front of a copse of pine trees. “That thing looks like it’s been there for a while.”

“Yeah.” The farmer wiped her forehead. “Lewis says it was my grandpa’s. It was probably great back in the day, but now it’s just a pile of rusty metal. Anyway, I don’t want to keep you, but I upgraded my house not too long ago, and I made you something. Hold on.”

The farmer dashed back into her house, and returned a moment later with a covered plate, which she handed to him.

“What are these?” Shane asked.

“Pepper poppers!” She smiled brightly. “I saw a recipe for how to make them a while back and I thought I’d give you the first batch.”

Shane cautiously took the plate. “Did Marnie tell you about these, too?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I went kind of crazy the first couple days after I got the kitchen because it’s been so long since I’ve been able to cook. Everyone in town has been getting food the past couple days! Anyway, I hope you like them.”

For some reason, the news that everyone in town was getting things from the farmer made Shane’s heart sink just a bit. Still, he smiled at her. “I’m sure I will.”

“Hold on.” The farmer cocked her head. “Did you just smile?”

Shane immediately felt self-conscious. “Maybe. Why?”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

“Really?”

“Really!” She grinned. “You should try doing it more. You have a nice smile.”

“Yeah. Uh, anyway, I should go. Thanks again.” Shane turned on his heel and walked back through the grass, trying to keep his pace as casual as humanly possible. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Shane!” Marnie beamed at him when he walked into the house. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. Chickens are good.” Shane tried to put the plate of food in the fridge as casually as possible.

“What’s that?” Marnie immediately asked.

“Oh… She’s been giving everyone plates of food. This one’s mine.”

“That’s nice of her. She gave me a big farmer’s lunch yesterday.” Marnie went back to the eggs piled on the table. “Could you check the eggs and bring the girls in? They should be ready to roost for the night, anyway.”

Shane was only too happy to oblige. He fled to the coop, where the chickens were beginning to bed down for the night, and sat down heavily in a pile of straw. One of the birds hopped into his lap and began to preen herself.

This was stupid, he thought to himself. A girl paid attention to him for a few minutes, and now he was getting tongue-tied over her. It was just some passing infatuation, a flash in the pan before things died down in his mind. It was silly to think that a few tokens of friendship meant some kind of romantic interest. He was too old for her, he had a dead-end job, and he had been a total ass to her. It was silly to think she was attracted to him. They were friends. That was it.

They were friends.

That thought stuck in Shane’s head. I had been a long time since any person had shown any interest in being friends with him. Maybe that was a victory in and of itself. Why would he jeopardize that?

He ought to do something nice, he thought. She had given him something, he should give her something in return. He’d write her a letter, maybe send her a recipe in the mail. He gently moved the hen off of his lap (which was a grave indignity, as far as the hen was concerned), sorted the eggs for Marnie, and went to go find pen and paper. He would make sure this letter was succinct, witty, and gently profound; a perfect way to show her that he wasn’t just some grouch who loitered in bars all the time.

Only, he had no idea what to say.

He stared at the paper for what felt like hours, trying to think of something. Well, the experts always said to write what you know, so he went with that:

Hi, it’s Shane.
I thought it would be fun to send you a letter. I don’t really know what to write, though. Anyway, I stole this from the back room of my job. Don’t tell anyone. Okay, see you soon.
Sincerely,
Shane

That was probably good enough, he mused. You don’t want to overdo it on the first try. He stuffed it in an envelope, and then snuck into Marnie’s kitchen and rooted around for the gift he had in mind. He found it in the freezer, neatly pocketed the note, and set out again for the farmer’s house, this time under the cover or moonlight.

It was quite late by that time, and the wind raked through the tree branches above, shaking them of their leaves. Soon they’d be bare and skeletal, but for now, the whole world smelled of sea breeze and fallen leaves. It wasn’t a bad night, all things considered. Walking through the farmer’s field in the moonlight had almost a magic feel to it. With the silvery light rippling over the grass as the wind came, the field looked almost like a living creature.

Over the peepers, though, he heard a strange noise. It was like a yelping, a chorus of high-pitched cries, calling back and forth to one another in the distance.

Weird, Shane thought. But it still seemed far away. He broke through the grass to the farmer’s house and stuffed his letter and gift into the mailbox. This was good, he thought to himself. Maybe this could be the start of something good in his life.

Chapter Text

Shane had a problem: he had an artistic vision that was in danger of not being realized. The part of the artistic vision that was especially important for him to manifest was the part where he won $10,000. Unfortunately, good help was hard to find in Pelican Town, and his fellow auteurs were not especially cooperative.

“Okay guys,” he asked for what felt like the sixth time, “do you remember your lines?”

“Yes!” Emily responded. He gave her points for enthusiasm, at least. Clint looked like he wanted to drop dead.

“Ready?” He asked, and then flicked the record button on his camcorder. “Action!”

Emily fell into character at once. “I thought what we had was special,” she said, pouring all of her effort into her best attempt at heartbreak. “I guess I was wrong.”

Clint was less prepared. “I… I… Uh…” He stammered.

Shane had a vision of a stack of money flying away from him. He grumbled below his breath and shouted, “Cut!”

“I’m sorry!” Clint looked genuinely pitiable. “It’s hard to remember my lines when her face is right in front of me like that.”

Shane was about to press him for details when he turned and saw the farmer standing beside him, watching the whole thing unfold with a little smirk on her face. For once, Shane was willing to let her annoying habit of materializing next to him slide. “Oh, hey,” he greeted her and tapped the side of his camcorder. “Check out my new camera. Joja Co. is having a video advertisement competition.” And then, inspiration struck him. “Hey! I want you to be in this shot, okay?”

“I don’t know,” the farmer said, suddenly shy. “I didn’t exactly receive top billing in any school plays.”

“Just walk by Clint and Emily in the background while they’re talking. It’ll give the scene a little more authenticity.” Luckily for him, the farmer shrugged in agreement and stood over by a fence to await her cue. “Okay, ready?” He asked. “Action!”

Emily turned her melodramatics up to eleven for this shot. “I thought we had something special…” She stared up at Clint with teary eyes. “You said you wouldn’t leave me for anything. I guess that was a lie.”

The farmer ambled behind them, doing a very poor impression of acting natural.

“No!” Clint had miraculously managed to remember his lines this time. “It’s not like that. This is just something I have to do. It’s very important to me.” And then, hallelujah, he pulled the can of Joja Bluu from his apron pocket and smiled at the camera. “I’ve just got to try new Joja Bluu cola. It’s got three times the sorbitol for a thick, sweet blast. And it’s cheaper than water!”

“But… but… Isn’t soda unhealthy?” Emily pressed. “You promised me.”

Come on, Clint, Shane thought to himself. Don’t let me down.

“Have no fear, my dear.” Clint gestured to the can. “The world-class science team at Joja Headquarters have determined that Joja Bluu does not cause a significant erosion of the stomach lining. So you can drink it whenever you like, as much as you like! The real question is, ‘When Will You Turn Bluu?’” And then Clint, bless his heart, tipped his head back and downed the entire can of Joja Bluu. Almost imperceptibly, the corner of Emily’s eye twitched.

“Cut!” Shane pumped his fist into the air. “That was perfect. Thanks for the help.”

Shane was about to thank the farmer when he heard Emily meekly ask, “Clint?”

Clint had frozen and was beginning to quake slightly. “That’s fine,” Shane said breezily. “That’s been known to happen sometimes. He’s not diabetic, is he?”

“...I don’t think so?”

“Then yeah, he should be fine.” He turned his attention back to the farmer. “Thanks for helping out.”

“No problem. Hey, I have kind of a weird question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you stuff a pizza in my mailbox last night?”

“...Uh.”

The conversation was mercifully cut short by the sight of Pam, who he spotted walking down the street in the opposite direction. It was unprecedented for Pam to be awake before ten, let alone mobile and functioning like a regular human being. The farmer waved at her.

“Pam! You’re up early.”

“Yeah, kiddo!” Pam smiled proudly. “I’m going to work!”

Shane had to do a mental double-take at that sentence. “Where are you working?”

“Well, you know that old, broken-down bus that I used to drive?”

“Yeah.”

“Lewis gave me a call this morning. Somebody fixed it!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope! Damndest thing; it was just sitting there this morning, good as new! I don’t know who fixed that thing, but I tell you, I owe them a lot.”

The farmer, who had been silent for this exchange, suddenly shifted. “I should get going,” she said. “Will I see you two at the fair next week?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Pam replied. “Take care, kid. And swing by the bus stop if you’ve got time!”

Shane felt deeply relieved to have been released from the burden of the frozen pizza he had shoved into the farmer’s mailbox, but something felt off. That bus, Marnie had told him, had been in disrepair for ages. He’d seen it a couple times; vines were coming out of the thing’s wheel wells. Who could have fixed it? More importantly, who could have fixed it all in one night?

Shane shook his head and continued on his way to work. Focus on the things you know, he told himself. And maybe stick to recipes for the next letter to the farmer.

The day of the Valley Fair was crisp, clear, and sunny; you couldn’t have asked for better weather. Even Shane found it hard to be in a bad mood; he’d managed to get out of work for that day, Marnie was beaming with pride over her setup, and Jas was having the time of her life petting the farm animals.

“I like this one!” She announced, stroking an extraordinarily jowly pig. It probably wouldn’t have been Shane’s first choice, but there was no accounting for taste with some kids.

The entire fairground the thrumming with activity. It was a big draw for the whole valley, so tourists were mixed in with the familiar faces. Jas looked like she was bordering on sensory overload for the amount of booths she wanted to visit.

“Okay, kid,” Shane said, watching her eyes dart around wildly. “What are we doing first? Fishing? You want to test your strength?”

“That!” Jas exclaimed, pointing at an old woman sitting in a booth.

“...You want your fortune told,” Shane said, squinting at the sign. Great. Fortune tellers ranked just below banging his shin on a coffee table on the list of things he wanted to do on his day off. At least banging your shin was free.

“Yeah!”

Shane saw into his immediate future and could predict that he was about to lose some hard-earned money. He let Jas rush over to the booth, and ambled after her.

“Can you really tell people’s futures?” Jas asked, looking at the woman with eyes the size of saucers.

“I can assure you, young lady, I can demystify the future of any person… for a price.”

“Oh! Oh!” Jas jumped up and down, her pigtails bobbing rapidly. “Shane! Can I? Can I please?”

Shane sighed, and opened his wallet. “Sure.”

“Now,” the old woman said, looking into the crystal ball mounted on her table, “what do I see for a pretty young lady? I see… a little friend, sitting to your right.”

“Good job, my seven year-old cousin absolutely has friends around her size,” Shane muttered under his breath.

“I see jewels,” the woman continued. “A shining crystal in your hand. I see… a wedding!” She smiled up at Jas. “I see a future far brighter than your past.”

“Oh! Oh my gosh! I’m gonna get married!” Jas squealed.

“Well, thanks bunches,” Shane said, trying to drag Jas away from the woman’s booth. “We should get going.”

“But don’t you want to know what I saw for you?” The woman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope. No thanks.”

“I wanna know!” Jas protested. “Did you see him meeting my husband? Does he like him?”

“I see that in a year’s time from this very moment, you will walk toward a woman who loves you. A woman with sheaves of wheat in her arms,” the fortune teller said.

Great, so she saw us with Marnie, Shane thought to himself. She must have gotten there early to observe the fairgoers. He knew these people relied mostly on cold reading.

“I saw flowers in the winter. I saw fire in a storm. I saw a woman, smiling.”

“Yeah, I live with two of those,” Shane replied.

“I saw a great darkness in front of you,” she concluded, “and many people behind you.”

“Uplifting. Thanks. Come on, Jas.”

“That was so cool,” Jas gushed as they wound their way through the crowds of people. “Shane, who do you think it’s going to be? Do you think it’s someone from town?”

“For your sake, I hope not. Next time, ask her if she sees you getting into Zuzu State.”

“Aunt Marnie!” Jas rushed toward the display booths where their aunt was explaining the delicate nature of truffle oil to some enraptured onlookers. “I’m getting married!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” Marnie raised her eyebrows at Shane. “I leave her with you for an afternoon and you’ve already sold her off into a union?”

Shane rolled his eyes. “She had her fortune told.”

“There’s gonna be jewels!”

“Well, I’m glad he’s at least well-off.”

“How did you do in the display contest?” Shane asked, quietly wondering if there were any food trucks in attendance.

“Oh, Pierre won,” Marnie sighed. “He works so hard on his every year, I’d be amazed if anyone beat him. Looks like the farmer gave him a run for his money, though.”

The farmer was leaning on her grange, chatting with Pierre and adjusting her ridiculous sunhat. Shane wandered over to their displays to take in whatever ludicrous produce Pierre had set up. Never one to disappoint, Pierre had set up a gargantuan pumpkin as the centerpiece of his display.

“Hey, congratulations,” Shane said.

“Thanks!” Pierre beamed. “I’d say I earned it.”

“How am I supposed to compete with a pumpkin that big?” The farmer lamented. “It’s the size of a wheelbarrow.” Shane had to admit, even though he liked her, that it was somewhat gratifying to see Pierre take home the top prize.

“I’m sure you’ll have better luck next year,” Pierre said, and then patted the pumpkin. “Of course, it’s going to be hard for you to top this. Abigail’s had her eyes on it all season. I think she wants to turn this into her most ambitious jack-o-lantern yet.”

“Have you seen the rest of the fair?” The farmer asked Shane. “I was a total flop at the fishing game. I think it’s rigged.”

“Yeah,” Shane sighed. “Jas wanted to see the animals and get her fortune told, mostly.”

“Oh, you stopped by the fortune teller’s booth too? Did she tell you yours?”

“Yeah, some mumbo jumbo about fire in storms or whatever. I don’t know, I don’t believe in that stuff. It’s just a way to get people to part with their money.”

“Well, yours was better than mine, at least.”

“What’d she tell you?”

“That I’m going to wind up in the hospital.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“Shane!” Jas had suddenly reappeared next to him. “Shane, can we go get some popcorn?”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” the farmer said, readjusting her hat. “Watch out for those fires.”

“Will do. Try not to end up in the hospital.”

Jas spent the rest of the night talking about who and how she was going to get married and what sort of gems that would entail, but by the time the sun set, she had largely worn herself out. Marnie offered Shane her deep gratitude after he sent her off to bed. Shane, for his part, felt the customary tinge of annoyance that the saloon wasn’t open. Being made to socialize all day made him thirsty, and he considered going down to the dock to drink, but thinking of that made him remember the farmer the night he’d seen her in the rainstorm. How could a person be that approachable, but still so opaque?

“Marnie,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Marnie settled down in the chair across from him.

“Is there anything about the farmer that strikes you as odd?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Marnie shrugged. “She’s kind to her animals, and she’s kind to us, and I don’t really care much beyond that. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Sometimes I just think there’s more to her than she lets on.”

“You could always ask her yourself,” Marnie replied lightly.

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?” Marnie had a little half-smile. “She asks about you too, you know.”

“I didn’t know, actually.”

“She’ll just check in about you every so often. You should talk to her more. Maybe something good will come of it.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Shane stood up and stretched. “Anyway, I have work tomorrow. I’m going to turn in.”

“Suit yourself.” Marnie shrugged. “I know you’re still relatively new here, yourself. I just wish-”

“Marnie.” Shane shook his head. “On my own time.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Shane.”

“Goodnight, Marnie.”

Chapter Text

Shane liked Spirit’s Eve for two reasons: firstly, he could go to the festival after work, thus sparing him from any more time-off conversations with Morris than humanly necessary. Secondly, there was quite a bit of pumpkin ale on tap there, which made up for the Stardrop being closed. He was nurturing a healthy buzz an hour after the festival began, and found himself enjoying the food and displays set up. He wasn’t about to wander into the maze (mostly because he knew that drunk people and mazes did not a fortuitous pair make), but he was happy to settle back and take a look at some skeletons that had been “reanimated.” They did look very convincing, at least.

“Spooky, huh?”

The farmer had a way of creeping up on Shane that made him want to jump out of his skin. This time, the overall mood of the town square had made her unannounced appearance that much more disarming, and he nearly spilled his beer all over the cobblestones.

“You know, I hate when you do that.”

“Sorry. Do you like my hat?” She thumbed at her latest headbound atrocity, which was plum-colored and floppy-brimmed.

“No. Where do you keep getting those ridiculous things?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Have you done the maze?”

“Not interested, thanks. Mazes and I don’t go so well together.” Shane held up a fresh glass of ale. “Fancy a pint?”

“I won’t say no.” The farmer took a deep swig and came away with a foam mustache. “I have to admit, Spirit Eve is one of my favorites. I was happy when I found out Pelican Town does a festival for it.”

“With the amount of festivals this town throws, I’d be more surprised if they didn’t. Apparently that weird guy who lives west of our house helped out a lot.”

“Oh, you mean the wizard?”

That line was delivered so easily that it could have slipped by Shane if he’d been half a pint deeper into the night. “I’m sorry--did you say ‘wizard’?”

“Yeah. We, uh, we talk sometimes.”

“You’re friends with a man who lives in a tower west of my house, wears a purple cowboy hat, and calls himself a wizard.”

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it sounds weird. He just asks me to get him stuff sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Slimes.”

“Wh--slimes?”

“Yeah. They’re not too bad. I need them for some of the machinery on the farm anyway, so I don’t mind snagging a few extra for him.”

“Where do you get slimes? Do they sell those at Pierre’s?”

“You just have to look in the right spots.” The farmer smiled. “Anyway, I’m going to go try out the maze. You have fun.”

Maybe this was just a funny prank the farmer was playing on him, Shane thought. A little jest for Spirit’s Eve. Shane looked back at the caged skeletons, and felt an odd chill creep up his spine.

No, he told himself. Don’t be stupid. He poured himself another pint of ale, and went to go find a slice of pumpkin pie.

The following morning, Shane awoke to find a thin skin of frost covering the ground, and the trees suddenly bereft of leaves. Winter had arrived, as if overnight, and the morning walks to work were suddenly significantly more hostile. He considered wearing something other than shorts, but decided against it. The Stardrop began selling hot brandy and soup, and sometimes, on his late-night walks home, he would see somebody off on the other side of town, making their way west, toward the farm.

Best not to question it, he thought.

One morning a few days into the season, Marnie stopped him on his way out the door to Joja Mart.

“Shane, do me a favor and come home after work? I need your help with a delivery later.”

Shane sighed heavily, but offered no complaint beyond that. Wrangling a cow or pig was unrewarding work, and he wasn’t about to leave the woman who had taken him in high and dry.

By the time he got home, the sun was just a reddish smear on the horizon, and Marnie had looped a halter around the head of an anxious baby goat.

“Grab an armload of fodder,” she told Shane, “and we’ll take little Poppy to her new home.”

Poppy seemed wholly unenthusiastic about the lonely walk north to her new home with the farmer; she fussed and pulled at her lead the whole way, despite Marnie’s attempts to soothe her. Shane had to agree with Poppy on that one; it was cold and windy, and his armload of fodder was trying to get away from him. The field wasn’t the only thing that was cold and empty; when they got to the farmer’s front door, they saw that her house was dark and quiet.

“That’s odd,” Marnie mused. “She said she’d be here.”

“Check the barn, I guess,” Shane muttered, trying to stomp down a growing feeling of unease in his gut. “I’ll look in the coop.”

The coop was blessedly warm, but missing its farmer. Shane took a moment to stand inside and regain feeling in his fingers amongst the gentle clucking of the hens and the suspicious gaze of Charlemagne before heading back outside. Marnie was closing the barn door behind her.

“She’s not in there,” Marnie fretted. “That’s odd; she said she’d be back before sundown.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Shane asked.

“Up in the mountains. She didn’t say where, though.” Marnie frowned. “Do you think she’s okay?”

No, Shane told himself. He would not be having any adventures after dark on a bitter winter night. “She’s probably fine.”

“You’re right. Time can get away from all of us, sometimes.” Marnie smiled. “All the same, can you leave a quick note for her? Jas wants me to help her with her homework.”

“Sure.”

The farmer’s house was dark, still, and eerie. Something about it felt cacophonous in its stillness, as if it were unnatural for it to be cold and uninhabited. Shane fumbled for a light switch and found none--great, he griped to himself--and managed to orient himself in the light of the moon peeking through the kitchen window.

Hi, it’s Shane.
Dropped off your goat--she’s in the barn.

That was fine, he thought. Succinct and direct. Perfect. He was about to get up and leave when he happened to look up at the opposite wall, where another beam of moonlight was centered on an empty wall mount. Shane couldn’t contain his curiosity, and took a closer look at it. A little plaque under it read, “Whoever shall wield this sword may find it a light in the dark; a worthy vanguard against the maw of peril.”

Shane’s mind suddenly flitted back to that rainy night in summer.

It hadn’t been a fishing pole. Of course, Shane had known that in the back of his mind since the beginning.

The feeling of unease in his stomach had increased to a dull roar, a sickly sensation that spread into his arms and legs. He looked at the table beside the door, and saw a flashlight. Something was wrong. Why leave the flashlight if you planned on being out after dark?

None of my business, Shane countered.

She’d do the same for you without a second’s hesitation, the first voice shot back.

Well, it’s not like I didn’t tell her she had bad taste in friends.

It would take half an hour to make it into the mountains. He could do it, or he could go to the Stardrop. And why shouldn’t he go drinking? He was worthless anyway. A terrible, worthless drunk caught in a dead-end job, with no friends.

No friends but her.

“I’m going to regret this,” Shane remarked to nobody in particular, grabbed the flashlight, and headed out the door.

If the wind had been strong in the farmer’s field, it was knifelike in the mountains. It cut straight through Shane’s hoodie and hit him in his core. Stupid, he kept telling himself. This was the worst idea he’d ever had. The single wan circle of light the flashlight provided him was shaking uncontrollably; he tried to convince himself it was because of the flashlight, and not him.

By the time Shane got to Robin and Demetrius’ house, he had lost feeling in his hands and feet, and whenever he breathed in, his lungs forced the frigid air out in a rough cough. He knocked on the front door and wiped his nose with his sleeve. After a moment, Demetrius opened the door.

“Shane?” He asked, not trying to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Hey.” Shane tried to force a smile. “I hate to bother you, but have you seen the farmer around?”

“No.” Demetrius squinted at him, probably in an effort to assess whether or not Shane was sober. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Have a good night.”

By now, it was pitch black outside of whatever light Shane’s flashlight gave off, and the night suddenly felt alive to him, as if it were creeping behind him on the trail, waiting to grab him by the ankle and drag him into its jaws. Shane was so wrapped up in his reverie that he almost didn’t notice a small reddish smear on one of the rocks at his feet. Shane stopped, crouched, and looked.

It wasn’t like he was a frontiersman, he wasn’t about to reach out and touch the stone and test the material on his fingertips before muttering about it being blood. But it looked like blood, and he could suddenly see corresponding drag marks in the soil at his feet.

Shit.

A little ways up the trail, there was another smear of blood on the stones. It was like following a trail of breadcrumbs, Shane thought to himself, and he suddenly felt very vulnerable. What, exactly, did he plan on doing if he did find the farmer, and she was hurt? What if someone had attacked her? What was he going to do then? It wasn’t like he was in any condition to pick a fight.

Shane stopped again, almost unconsciously. He’d heard something; a sound had disrupted his thoughts about getting his ass handed to him by a group of bandits. Bandits, he thought angrily. The idea of bandits seemed to be mutually exclusive to an era where they had color TV’s. There it was again: a rustle in the brush, the sound of something big moving up ahead.

The largest and most rational part of Shane told him to run. Book it in the opposite direction, and fast, because he had no weapons and no real idea of what to do in an emergency, anyway. But it was almost a given that someone on the trail ahead of him was hurt. It wasn’t too late to turn back, but was it the right thing to do?

He really wished he had a beer.

As quietly as he could manage, Shane crept closer to the source of the noise. He could now see a break in the brush, and light beyond that. He came to the edge of the woods, and realized he was looking into a clearing with a little fire in it. There was a tent set up, and as he watched, a large man with a bushy beard emerged from it. As his eyes adjusted, Shane also realized that there was a person, unmistakably the farmer, lying supine beside the fire, her head tilted away from him. His stomach dropped into his heels as he saw the man lean over her body.

And then, like a sudden explosion in Shane’s gut, he realized he had to protect her. Not just because that was the right thing to do, but because she was beautiful and obnoxious and he cared so much about getting to see her every day, and he was terrified, absolutely terrified, of the prospect of ever opening up to her, but he still daydreamed about it anyway. And he was going to do everything to protect her, even if it meant getting his ass handed to him.

“Hey!” Shane didn’t even have time to process what he was doing as he burst from the scrub, his free hand balled into a fist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!? Get away from her!”

The man dropped whatever he had been holding and fled back toward the opposite side of the clearing. The more logical half of Shane’s brain had caught up to him, and was now screaming for him to get the hell out of there, get out now, call for help, because he was probably going to get stabbed in the kidney. But he was already next to the farmer, and he knew he’d never forgive himself if he left her there.

There was a smear of dried blood under her nose and she had a black eye, in addition to a large knot on the side of her head. Shane suddenly felt a wave of nausea overtake him.

There was a meek voice from across the other side of the clearing: “Mister, you wanna be careful there.”

Shane looked up at the man from the tent, who looked like he was wearing scrub for clothes. He knew who this man was: there were intermittent whispers from the other townspeople about a man who lived in the mountains and sometimes came down to root in the garbage.

“What did you do?” Shane asked.

“Nothing! I swear, I didn’t do anything! I didn’t hurt her. I found her like that.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I wouldn’t lie. I found her unconscious in the mines. I’d never do anything to hurt her,” the man blubbered. “You have to believe me. She’s my friend.”

“Your friend?”

“I swear. She brings me food sometimes, and she helped me find my blackberry basket when I’d misplaced it. I’d never hurt her.”

It hurt Shane to admit that imagining the farmer making friends with the weird hobo who lived in the mountains didn’t take much effort. “What was she doing in the mines?”

“She goes down there sometimes to hunt for ore and slimes. She’s never had a problem before, but I guess… I guess her luck caught up to her. I found her conscious, but when I was helping her back to town, she collapsed. She said she needed to get back home,” he added in a small voice.

“Well, she needs to go to a doctor,” Shane snapped. “Look, thanks for bringing her up. I’ll handle it from here.”

“Are you sure?” The man asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well… She’s pretty heavy. Have you ever tried carrying that much dead weight?”

“I’ll manage.” Shane hooked an arm around her waist, lifted her about a foot off the ground, and then very quickly set her back down. He was certainly out of shape, but holy shit, she felt like a sack of lead.

The other man had tentatively made his way back into the firelight. “I told you.”

“What is this woman eating?” Shane huffed, trying to lift her again. “Rocks?”

“Here, look. You’re doing it wrong.” The man looped one of her arms around his shoulder and hoisted her up. “Grab her other arm like this. Make sure her weight’s on your shoulder.”

“Thanks,” Shane huffed.

“Say, what’s your name?”

“Shane.”

“Nice to meet you, Shane. I’m Linus. If you want, I can show you a shortcut out of the mountains.”

“That might be nice.”

The mountain wind whipped around Shane, bringing tears to his eyes that he hastily blinked away whenever he felt them gather. The farmer, even with Linus’ help, was a tremendous load, and Shane’s shoulder was aching mightily by the time he and Linus reached the main drag of Pelican Town.

“Can you take her from here?” Linus asked as the two stood in front of the clinic.

“Why?”

“I just… I’d prefer it if I could stay out of the spotlight. The less folks hear about me, the better.” Linus ducked out from under her arm, and Shane’s shoulder screamed in protest. “Tell her I hope she’s well.”

Abandoned with a human-shaped sack of potatoes on his arm, tired, and freezing, Shane was in no mind to be quiet or gracious when he banged his fist on Harvey’s front door.

“Harvey! Harvey, wake up! We have an emergency here!”

After a few moments of quiet, there was a rustling from inside, and then the door opened. Harvey’s hair and mustache were in disarray, his eyes heavy with sleep, and when he saw the scene laid out in front of him, he blanched.

“What happened?” He asked as Shane hauled the farmer inside.

“This idiot went down into the mines and got a head injury, is what happened.” When Harvey lifted the farmer off of him, he groaned in relief.

“How long has she been unconscious?” Harvey managed to drag her over to a cot. “Can you help me lift her?”

“Harvey, I already carried her down from the mountains.”

“Shane, get her legs for Pete’s sake.”

Shane grudgingly complied, and the two men were able to lift the farmer onto a cot. She looked far worse in the florescent light of the clinic. Harvey pressed two fingers to her wrist, grabbed a stethoscope, and pressed it against her chest. “Her breathing is a little shallow, but her pulse is steady. Get me a blanket?”

Shane handed Harvey a soft taupe blanket, and he draped it over the farmer. “Thank you for bringing her in, Shane. This would be dangerous to leave untreated. I’ll need to make sure she’s not concussed.”

“Is there anything else I can do?” In spite of all the pain and hassle it had taken to get her there, the farmer looked fragile beneath the blankets, and Shane felt a pang in his chest.

“Does she have anybody to take care of her animals? She’s going to be here at least overnight. Any next of kin?”

“...I don’t know.”

“You’re sure? From what people have said, you two seem… close.”

“I don’t know,” Shane repeated, an edge in his voice.

“Alright, alright.” Harvey backed off. “Square that away, and I’d say you’ll have helped her out enough. In the meantime, do yourself a favor and go home, Shane. You look like you need a good night’s rest.”

Shane wasn’t about to argue with that assessment. He jammed his hands into his pockets, kept his head down, and walked home as quickly as he could manage. To his surprise, Marnie was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Lewis was sitting beside her, and he looked a bit startled when Shane stepped through the front door.

“Shane!” Marnie jumped to her feet, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

“I just got back from Harvey’s.” Shane slumped into a chair.

“What do you mean?”

“The farmer got knocked out in the mines. That’s where she went,” Shane explained. “I carried her down to Harvey’s.”

“Oh, my goodness. Is she going to be okay?”

“No idea. He said to find out if she had next of kin, or anybody to help her with her animals.” Shane looked at Lewis. “Does she?”

Lewis thought for a long moment, and then shook his head. “She never mentioned anybody.”

“Well, she’s got us, and that’s good enough.” Marnie set her mug down. “I’ll take care of her animals in the morning. Shane, can you visit her tomorrow and see how she’s doing?”

“Sure.” Shane was too tired to argue. “Look, I’m drained. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Of course. You must be tired.”

Shane didn’t even remember going into his room or falling into bed. His mind came alive with dreams, though. He was standing in the mountains. At his feet, he saw blood on flowers. He saw Jas in the mines.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t frequently that Shane asked for a lunch break, but he found himself awkwardly approaching Morris’ desk around noon, hat in hand, trying to figure out the most diplomatic way to go about asking to leave the store mid-shift for once.

“Shane.” Morris was just as oily as he always was. “How can I help you?”

“My friend’s in the clinic. Can I take lunch and visit her?”

Morris’ eyes narrowed just a touch. “Who?”

“The, uh, the farmer. She moved in about a year ago?”

“Oh. Her.” Morris rummaged under his desk and brought up a few seed packets. “Here, give her these. Compliments of her friends at Joja Corp.”

“Sure.” Shane took the little packet of parsnip and cauliflower seeds. “Thanks.”

He tossed them right into the garbage as soon as he left the store. There was no chance that the farmer would use them, and anyway, he wasn’t going to let Morris use the fact that she was in the clinic as a reason to push his product.

Maru was manning the front desk when Shane walked in, and she looked confused as to why Shane, the human equivalent of a tire fire, would be strolling into a medical establishment of his own volition.

“Hi,” Shane said. “I came to visit the farmer.”

Comprehension spread across Maru’s face, as if the universe had suddenly righted itself. “Oh! Sure! She’s awake now, so you can go see her. Come on, she’s this way.” Maru led him through a set of double doors, and directed him to the right. “Let me know if you need anything.”

The farmer was sitting up in bed, wearing a thin medical gown, sporting an impressive black eye, and thumbing through a copy of Popular Transistors when Shane walked in. She looked up in apparent surprise. “Shane?”

“Hi. I, uh, came to see how you were doing.”

“Better, thanks to you.” She set the magazine aside. “Harvey told me you gave him quite the scare last night.”

“I may have been a bit abrupt. My shoulder was killing me, you know. You’re heavy.”

“Sorry, if I had known I was going to get jumped in the mines, I would have dieted.” The farmer leaned forward. “Is Linus…?”

“He’s fine. He left you with me once we got to the clinic. He said he’d rather nobody knew about him.”

“Okay, good.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you remember when I saw you in the rainstorm, back in summer?”

“...Yeah.” Talking about that event seemed murky for both of them, and the hesitancy in the farmer’s voice showed it.

“Was that where you were coming from? The mines?”

The farmer paused, took a breath, and leaned back into her pillow. “Yeah.”

“How long have you been going down there?”

“Since spring.”

“You’ve been going down into the mines for almost a year, and nobody knew?” Shane felt somehow betrayed by this piece of information. “What if you got hurt? What if something had happened, and Linus wasn’t there?”

“I’ve always been fine.”

“Except for last night. I just… There are people in town who care about you, you know. You had us worried.”

The farmer looked up at Shane, and a little smile crossed her face for a split second. “Are my animals okay?”

“Marnie’s taking care of them. That reminds me, Lewis asked last night if you had anybody we could call, you know, about you being in the hospital.”

The farmer’s smile grew very soft, and very sad. “My mom and dad live a couple states away.”
“What about the city? You said you moved from there, right?”

She shook her head in response.

“You don’t have any friends where you’re from?”

“I told you, I don’t really have too many friends. I guess that’s why it was so easy to pack up and move.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, anyway. I guess I just never thought I’d need to call anyone.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that seems kind of short-sighted.”

She smiled. “I guess so. But anyway, Marnie won’t need to trouble herself after tonight. Harvey’s releasing me this afternoon. It was nice of you to come visit, though.”

“Has anyone else stopped by?”

“Leah did. And Maru brought me some things to read!” She held up a copy of Popular Transistors. “So, it’s not so bad. Although I don’t really understand a lot of this stuff,” she added, her voice low.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re okay. Look, I should head back to work. I’m on break.”

“Is that why you’re in your uniform?” She smiled.

“I don’t exactly wear this thing for pleasure.”

“Fair enough. Thanks for coming by. It means a lot.”

“Sure thing. See you later.” Shane pulled his hat down and excused himself from the clinic. Being there made him feel off-balance. Maybe it was how different the farmer looked in her paper gown with the blankets pulled over her. It occurred to him that he had never seen her in anything other than her usual dirty farming clothes. Sitting there in bed, washed up, her hair combed for once, it was like looking at a wholly different person. He realized that he profoundly disliked it. Seeing her like that somehow made him feel somehow unmoored.

He shook his head and headed back to work, happy to bury his thoughts under the many cases of Joja Bluu that needed stocking.

That night, the Stardrop was humming with gossip over the big news that the farmer had been admitted to the clinic. Harvey was admirably tight-lipped about the whole thing, but seeing as Shane was not under legal constraints against blabbing, he had suddenly become a very hot commodity.

Emily’s head snapped up like a meerkat when Shane walked into the Stardrop at his usual time, and after some hissed conferring with Gus, she approached Shane with his usual pint.

“Hey,” she said softly, “I don’t want to pry, but did you see the farmer? Is she okay?”

Shane sighed heavily. “She’s fine. She went home this afternoon.”

“Did you really find her in the mountains?”

Son of a bitch. “How’d you hear that?” Shane asked.

“Well,” Emily began, sitting back and drawing a breath, “Demetrius had told Robin that you were looking for the farmer, so then Robin told Lewis, and Lewis told Marnie, and Marnie told him that she was in the clinic, so Lewis talked to Leah, and Leah told him that the farmer had told her that you brought her into the clinic last night.” She took a breath. “That’s it, really.”

“Well, they’re right. I brought her in.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Nope. I went looking for her and found her collapsed in the woods. It was probably just exhaustion. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you carried her down all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Shane lied. He felt a bit bad about getting the credit that was due to Linus, especially after he had done the lion’s share of work on the rescue attempt. You’d never see Shane going down into the mines, that was for sure.

Emily looked starry-eyed. “Wow.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Shane demurred.

“Do you know what she was doing up there?”

“No clue. I don’t really want to pry into somebody else’s personal business, you know?”

Emily didn’t take the hint. “It can be so dangerous up in the mountains, but I guess it’s kind of romantic, you know? Wandering through the darkness, torch in hand, breathing in the fresh mountain air? Somebody to rescue you if things get dangerous?”

“Wouldn’t know anything about it.” Shane took another sip of beer. “Anyway, she just had an accident. No torches or cloak and dagger.”

“Suit yourself.” Emily pouted. “I think Alex mentioned that the farmer wanted to ask you something, though.”

“Well, I’m not going to pester her now,” Shane said. “If she wants something, she knows where to find me.”

“Okay. But I heard it was important.”

The sing-song voice with which she said “important” made Shane roll his eyes. “Like I said, she knows where to find me.”

“Shane, you are just impossible!” Emily said, and she turned away to serve Pam another pale ale.
Shane shrugged. He hadn’t expected her to be so irritated by his unwillingness to gossip, but maybe this was the sort of thing that passed for big news in Pelican Town. He gave it no further thought, and after a few more pints, he went home.

The following few days passed without much excitement, a fact that Shane was deeply grateful for. The hullabaloo over the farmer had mostly died down, replaced with buzz over the town’s ice fishing contest. Shane was no good at fishing, but Pam was talking up her talent this year, and she seemed very confident of a first place finish. Good for her, Shane thought. Maybe she could put that next to the wine bottles.

“Shane!”

Shane was beginning to wonder if the farmer interrupting him on his evening pilgrimage to the Stardrop was going to become a theme in his life. There she was, her black eye now mottled shades of blue and yellow, and her smile just as bright as usual, if not nervous. Shane wondered why that might be.

“You look… better,” Shane offered.

“Thanks. I always thought yellow was my color.” She laughed nervously at her own joke. “Hey, could we talk?”

“Sure?” She seemed way too fidgety, Shane thought. Maybe she had hit her head in the mines and now she had brain damage. That would suck. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Fine. I, um, I wanted to ask you if you might be, um, might be interested in…” Her face was turning a fine shade of red, which, along with the black eye, gave her a passing resemblance to a blighted tomato. After another moment of stammering, she gave up and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure everything’s alright?”

“Look, there’s no easy way to ask this, and I think we can rule out smoothness, but…” She opened her pack, withdrew a large bouquet of flowers, and offered it to him. “Would you maybe want to get dinner sometime? With me, I mean. Do you want to have dinner with me?”

Shane looked at the bouquet, and up to her. She was staring very intently at her own shoelaces.

Oh, he knew what this was. “Funny joke,” he said, gently brushing the bouquet aside.

“Wh-no! No, no no, no, no, it’s not a joke,” she insisted.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You want to go on a date.”

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“Yes.”

“The guy who works seven days a week at the convenience store.”

“Yes.”

Shane felt something heavy in his stomach and he very gradually realized that she was dead serious. He should have felt happy. Why didn’t he feel happy? Instead, there was this sick feeling of dread blooming in his stomach. Suddenly, his hands felt shaky. The farmer was still looking up at him, her eyes filled with hope and worry.

“Look,” he began, and he saw her face fall. “I’m sorry. I… I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a nice girl, I just…” He suddenly began to feel a bit panicked. Why was he turning her down? “I can’t do this right now.”

“Oh.” She lowered the bouquet, disappointment written plain on her face. “That’s okay. I mean, after what you said at the clinic yesterday, I thought--”

“Please, don’t take this to mean anything against you, I just… the time’s not right for me.”

“Okay.”

“Look, you can do better anyway. Nice girl like yourself.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I just… I should go.”

Shane managed to get his legs moving again and walked past the farmer, who was still standing in apparent shock. He didn’t care, his brain was screaming at him for booze. He suddenly remembered his conversation with Emily, and realized what sort of reception was waiting for him at the saloon when everybody put two and two together. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want any of it. He took the long way back to Marnie’s and tried to sneak inside as quietly as possible. In his closet, hidden in a box under a pile of clothes, were several six-packs. He privately called it his Emergency Beer, and it was the strong stuff, much closer to barley wine. He pulled out the first bottle of what would be many for the night, uncapped it, and with no ceremony whatsoever, drank it in one shot.

“You’re an idiot,” he said quietly to himself, looking at the bottle.

Chapter Text

Shane awoke the next morning with the worst hangover he’d ever experienced, and that was not a title he gave away lightly. He pounded his alarm into silence, rolled over, saw how many empty bottles were piled up in the corner of the room, and contemplated vomiting all over the floor. No, he thought. He was going to face the day with gravitas and get over what had happened yesterday.

He also vomited in the shower.

Marnie looked stricken when she saw her nephew haul himself into the kitchen, his hands jammed in his pockets and his eyes heavy and bloodshot.

“Shane,” she said gently. “How are you?”

“Dandy,” he muttered.

Marnie may have been expecting to have a different conversation with him, but she let the matter go, and Shane trudged out the door. The cold air was a minor blessing, and he felt himself begin to perk up by the time he reached the front door of Joja Mart. Whatever good feelings he had vanished as soon as Morris approached him.

“Shane!”

“Hi,” Shane croaked in response.

“Shane, I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Okay.”

“Can you come in early tomorrow and help stock the front display?”

Had Shane been in a more cogent state of mind, he would have said no, because “help” implies that you are assisting another person, and nobody else in the miserable hellhole known as Joja Mart was going to be doing that but him. But Shane was exhausted, his stomach was full of acid, and he had no fight in him. “Sure.”

“And I’ll let you go early, too. I know that ice festival is tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. Thanks.”

It was one of the few times Shane used his employee discount at Joja Mart, and he used it to buy a bottle of Power Sport Athletic Beverage™, which he nursed for the rest of the day. By the time he was done, the winter night was dark and mercifully quiet, and he decided to chance a visit to the saloon. Their pizza was better, anyway, and he decided that that was what he needed.

The happy piano music at the Stardrop was too loud and too obnoxious by half for Shane, who was thrilled to have his usual lonely corner by the fire. Emily gave him a suspicious glance for a moment, but she didn’t say a word when he asked her for pizza, and that was probably the wisest decision she could have made. Shane was scarfing down his third slice (he was suddenly, unbearably hungry) when Gus approached him. Gus had a casual nature to him that Shane appreciated, but Shane wasn’t an idiot, and he knew when somebody was about to start asking uncomfortable questions. He shoveled another bite of pizza into his mouth to give plausibility to the fact that he was about to start giving one-word answers.

“Shane,” Gus said, casual as you please, “no beer tonight?”

“Nah,” Shane replied through a mouthful of pizza.

“Not in the mood?”

“Nah.”

“Look,” Gus said, leaning against the bar, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” The pizza-in-the-mouth strategy was going pretty well, Shane decided.

“What’s going on with you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Shane, I don’t want you to think I’m prying, but Emily and I knew that the farmer was going to ask you to dinner.”

“I said no.”

“You’re not interested?”

Shane paused. “She can do better.”

Gus scoffed. “That’s a bit conceited of you, don’t you think?”

“Sorry?”

“You’re going to shoot down your chances with a woman because you don’t think you’re good enough? You don’t think she should get to make that decision?”

“It’s not exactly an unpopular opinion around here.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that she asks about you all the time. You’re the first person she talks to in here. I catch her with this look on her face whenever she sees you. She’s sold on you, man. If she thinks you’re good enough, who are you to say that you’re not?”

“I said no because I’m not interested,” Shane lied. “Farm work’s not for me.”

“Well... nobody could fault you for that,” Gus shrugged. “If you said no because you’re not interested, that’s fair to both of you.”

Shane pushed his pizza away from him and slunk away from the bar. His thoughts were disjointed and loud in his head, buzzing angrily and keeping him from focusing on any one thing. He felt like getting drunk, but his stomach knotted at the idea. It was still early, and quiet out, so he decided he’d go for a walk and try to sort through his thoughts. He’d gotten to the bus stop when he heard a similar noise in the distance: the same high-pitched chirping he’d heard in autumn, this time coming from the farmer’s property. He’d thought that it was peepers then, but what would be making that noise in winter?

He gave himself a second to deliberate, and then struck out in search of the noise.

The farm was quiet and bare, but on the far side of the farm, Shane could have sworn he saw dancing lights by the pine trees. Was somebody fooling around on her farm? Was the hangover catching up to him? He squinted and moved in for a better look.

“Shane?”

The farmer’s voice behind him almost pulled a shout of surprise out of him. He turned around and saw her standing there, bundled up in her parka, her eyes owlish.

“Hi. Look, I can explain. I heard noises over here, and I was worried somebody might--”

“Shane, it’s okay. I understand. Are you alright?”

Shane didn’t have enough fight in him anymore to lie. “Not really,” he conceded.

“Would you like to come in for some tea? As friends, I promise. Scout’s honor.”

“It’s really late-”

“Just for a minute,” she pleaded. “Look, I feel like I owe you an apology for yesterday. Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Shane relented.

Shane tried to keep himself from retching into the farmer’s empty flower pots; the sudden influx of pizza wasn’t sitting very well with him, and having a conversation with the woman he’d rather abruptly shot down the day prior wasn’t doing much for his stomach either. As soon as he walked through the front door, the farmer’s jowly dog jumped on him.

“Daisy Mae!” The farmer scolded, and hauled her off of Shane.

“She has a last name now?” He asked, sitting heavily in one of the farmer’s chairs.

“Only when she’s being bad.” The farmer filled up the kettle and turned the oven on. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have cornered you on your way out of work.”

Oh good, an emotionally-involved conversation when Shane was hungover. He’d turned her down to avoid those, not have more of them. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though.” The farmer slid into the chair across from him. “I didn’t think of how that would make you feel. I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”

Shane sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “ Look, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I… Do you have any water?”

“Yeah.” She poured him a glass and set it down in front of him. Shane chugged the entire thing, took a moment to make sure it would stay down, and then continued.

“Okay, if you want to know why I turned you down, it’s not because I don’t like you. I do. As a matter of fact, you’re my closest friend in this shitty town. If we dated and it went south, I wouldn’t just lose my girlfriend, I’d lose my only friend here, too. And I’m going to be stuck here awhile anyway. It’d be nice to keep friends, not lose them.”

The farmer lingered on that, her eyes soft with thought. “You know, you worry a lot for a grouch,” she finally said.

“I find that the grouchier I am with people, the less I have to care about them.” Shane looked at her with resignation. “You seem to be the exception.”

“I didn’t think about it that way,” the farmer said softly.

“Of course not, you just hand people fruit and then they love you. You make friends by design; I keep them away by design. That’s how it works.”

“Can we still be friends?”

Shane sighed. “Of course. Look, you’re a decent person, and I’m kind of a mess, but I’d hate to lose out on that because you asked me out and I choked. You’re one of the only people here I like.”

“I don’t think you’re a mess,” she said gently.

“Oh, spend some more time with me.”

“Shane, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you here in Pelican Town if you hate it so much?”

Shane hunched over the table and sighed. “Jas likes it here. She likes Marnie, she likes the farm, she likes the town, and I wanted to give her some more stability in her life. She’s a good kid, she deserves it.”

“She’s your cousin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Quite an age gap.”

Shane shrugged. “My dad was the middle child, hers was the baby. I was actually born right after him.” He smiled ruefully. “He was the good guy, y’know? Good grades, went to college, met his sweetheart, got married, had the big fancy reception, had Jas two years later. That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? He stuck to it to the letter.”

“Jas said he died.”

“He and his wife both did. And Jas, she had the rotten luck to have me as her godfather.” Shane shrugged. “That’s just how the chips fall sometimes, I guess. I wasn’t leaving too much behind when I came here, and she’s happy, so I can stick around for a while. Work, save up money for her college fund. I don’t know, make sure she’s comfortable.” Shane exhaled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“It’s only fair.”

“Do you go into the mines a lot?”

“I don’t know. Once every couple weeks, I guess.” The farmer shrugged, suddenly tense. “Why?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. It’s dangerous there.”

“There’s stuff I need down there. I don’t know, ores, crystals. Things like that.”

“But Clint sells that stuff. I’m asking you why you want to go down there.”

The farmer shrugged. “I don’t know. I… never had a lot of adventure in my life, I guess. You know, working in the city, it was all very day-in, day-out stuff. I never really made a lot of friends, never really had the urge to go out and get lost. And then I moved here, and… it was like a switch flicked. I had a really brand-new start, you know? I could be somebody else. I could be somebody who has adventures and does daring stuff.”

“Like asking out the town drunk.”

The farmer reddened. “I really am sorry about that.”

“Look, I’ve made worse decisions. As long as we’re square on it, okay? You’re a good friend.”

“Sure. Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“You’re spending so much time just focusing on work and saving up money for Jas. What are you going to do when she grows up?” The kettle began to whistle, and the farmer stood up and began busying herself with mugs. “Do you have any preference on tea?”

“If it’s okay with you, I’m actually going to head home.” Shane stood up. He felt sick all over, but there was a certain feeling of relief there too. “Maybe I can answer that question another time. I’ll see you around?”

“Sure.” She smiled. “Get home safe.”

“Sure thing.”

On his way out of the farmer’s house, he looked to his right and saw the dancing lights over the snow. What was it? Swamp gas? A trick of the light, maybe? A chill went up his spine; the same chill you get when you sense something dark and unknowable waiting just out of sight in the darkness. A vast, immeasurable thing, looming over the farmer’s fields. Maybe even looming over all of Pelican Town.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No more snooping, Shane thought. It was time to go home, stay home, and go back to being Shane. No more mountain excursions. No more smiling. No more of this infatuation shit. No more of letting the farmer sit beside him at the Stardrop and smile softly at him as she told him about her day. No more thinking about her smile during the lulls at work. It was time to go back to being no trouble to anybody, and getting hammered every night if that helped him bury his feelings.

Shane jammed his hands in his pockets, resolute, and went home.

Chapter Text

In keeping with his new outlook on life, Shane awoke early, miserable, and hungry the following morning. At least he didn’t have a hangover, he thought to himself as he slogged to work when the sun was only halfway over the horizon.

“Good morning, Shane,” Morris purred as soon as Shane walked through the front doors of Joja Mart. Shane was beginning to think that the reason he didn’t have keyholder privileges was because Morris seemed to be present at Joja Mart at literally all hours of the day. Sam had once said that he thought Morris lived there, and Shane was beginning to think that might be true. He had been stocking shelves for perhaps half an hour when Morris slithered over.

“Good morning, Morris,” Shane said, trying desperately not to show signs of fear.

“Shane, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the derelict community center north of Pelican Township that we want to buy?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’ve heard a few of our customers talking about some renovation project going on over there. I hadn’t known there was any such project happening. And I’m sure that, had you known, you would have told me.”

Shane genuinely had no idea that anybody was fixing up that piece of crap north of town, but even so, he somehow felt a tremor of defensiveness. “No idea. Last I heard, that place was a dump.”

“I’m sure. Even so, I want to give you a little bit of homework.”

Oh no, why, why why would you do this, why, please no. “Sure.”

“If you’d be so kind, check around at the ice festival today. See what you can learn.”

“I guess I can do that.”

“I’d be very appreciative if you did.”

Shane felt an instinctual aversion toward doing anything that might make Morris appreciative, but he nodded, mumbled something about reporting back, and Morris left him alone. He certainly had to have misheard about the community center. Everyone thought that thing was a lost cause, including Lewis. It was a dead end query that was almost certainly going to necessitate his talking to people around town. Totally miserable, but at least he got to leave work early.

The Ice Festival didn’t rank particularly high on Shane’s list of must-attend Pelican Town events. There were sculptures and an ice fishing competition, and there was hot cocoa, but Shane didn’t care for that and anyway, it was damn cold in the field by Marnie’s house. He once again considered buying a pair of actual pants.

“Good to see you, Lewis,” Shane said, standing next to the mayor. If anyone was a good source of information on the community center, it had to be him. He just had to act casual.

“Shane!” Lewis smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. It’s cold out.”

“Wouldn’t be the Ice Festival if it weren’t!” Lewis laughed.

Shane wondered what Marnie saw in this guy. “So, did you hear about the community center?”

“Sorry? What about?”

Shit. “I, uh, I heard it might be renovated.”

Lewis looked nonplussed. “I hadn’t heard anything about that. Who told you?”

Shit. “Morris,” Shane confessed.

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Morris has his wires crossed if he thinks anybody in interested in renovating that old pile. Probably thinks he won’t be able to buy it, even if he does sell another one of those damn memberships. Hey, if he says anything else about it, tell him an independent contractor expressed interest in it. That oughta shut him up for a while.”

“No problem.”

“And tell him to stop calling my house too, while you’re at it!”

Shane balked. “He’s calling your house?”

“Oh yeah. Mornings, afternoons, evenings, at all hours of the day! I think he thinks he’s intimidating, but if I had my druthers, I’d like to give him a good punch in the nose.”

“I think we all would,” Shane muttered. Lewis laughed. “None so much as you, probably. Look, Shane, you’ve got a lot of life ahead of you. Why not quit? See if there’s any other work you can come by? Yoba knows there’s got to be something out there better for you.”

Shane shrugged. He didn’t believe in Yoba, and if he did, he would pray for the little cretin to fuck off and leave him alone. “Better the devil you know.”

“Fair enough. Are you competing today?”

“Me? Never. I’ll let the professionals handle it.”

“Alright, then. I’m going to go finish setting up. Go enjoy the festival, Shane.”

That seemed like a dim possibility, given the lack of beer or food there. If he had his way, he thought miserably, he’d have a pizza festival at the Stardrop. That sounded way more fun than whatever this was supposed to be. Shane looked at the deep holes carved into the ice and the cold water underneath. What could be in there at this time of year?

“You going swimming?”

Shane flinched at the unexpected arrival of the farmer behind his left shoulder. “What have I told you about creeping up on me like that?”

She giggled. “Sorry. You doing the ice fishing competition today?”

“Absolutely not.” Shane looked over at the snowmen being built on the other side of the festival. Clint was helping Emily, and he looked nervous enough to faint. Jas was readying a snowball, and she looked ready to paste Vincent upside the head; a fact that filled Shane’s heart with pride. “Hey, have you heard anything about the community center?” He asked.

The farmer blinked. “...No. Why?”

“I don’t know, Morris mentioned something about it. Forget I asked, it’s a dumb question.”

The farmer paused, biting her bottom lip in thought. Her cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold. Finally, she spoke up. “Meet me at the Stardrop tomorrow after work.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow night. Meet me at the Stardrop.”

Shane furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“I want to show you something.”

“You’re not making me feel any better about this.”

“I promise you, it’s nothing bad. Just… Meet me there, okay? I’ll explain everything. Just don’t tell your weird boss about it.”

“All participants of the fishing competition, come to the lake!” Lewis shouted over the crowd. The farmer shrugged.

“I gotta go. Don’t forget, okay? Stardrop, tomorrow.”

Shane wanted to be flippant, to say “where else am I going to go?” But he didn’t. He spent the next fifteen minutes watching the farmer and the other competitors rush around the lake, trying to outdo each other at fishing. In the end, Willie took the top prize, and the farmer applauded and then shook Pam’s hand. Her face was red from the cold, and her nose was running badly. Still, for half a second, Shane thought she was pretty before he caught himself.

The next day was a wash for Shane. Morris didn’t take the news of an independent contractor well, and Shane spent most of the following hours avoiding his wrath. He slunk out of the back room at quitting time, happy to be done with Joja Mart for another day, and made his way to the tavern. Sure enough, the farmer was outside.

“Hey.” She smiled. “I’m glad you came. Are you ready?”

“Can’t I have a beer first?” Shane whined.

“Look, it’ll only take an hour or so. Come on.”

The path to the community center was thin in some spots; the ground wasn’t maintained especially well, and the closer you got to the center, the more overgrown the path became. Even now, in the dead of winter, tall weeds encircled the ruined fence and bare trees seemed to intertwine their branches over the roof as a warning to stay out. “Why are we here?” Shane asked, looking up at the broken clock on the front of the building.

“You asked about the community center. I’m going to show you.” The farmer eased the front door open. “In here.”

Shane reluctantly followed the farmer inside. The floor creaked at every step he took, and the wind lowed through the rafters like an angry thing. On the mantle was a plaque with three shiny golden stars inlaid in the wood, and three hollow divots. Shane had never felt more like he didn’t belong in a place. The farmer rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t freak out,” she said helpfully. “Follow me.”

Shane followed close as she led him down a dilapidated hallway into a small room. On the floor was a small, shiny tile, which the farmer knelt in front of, and took off her backpack.

“You know this is the sort of place where axe murderers hang out, right?” Shane looked around nervously.

“Hush,” the farmer scolded him gently. “They’ll hear you.”

“Who? The axe murderers?”

The farmer paid him no mind as she started taking things out of her backpack: a crocus and a snow yam. “Hi, little guys,” she said softly, arranging the items in a neat pile. “I know there’s somebody new in here, but don’t be scared. He’s a friend.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Shane hissed.

The farmer ignored him. “I’ve got something for you. Don’t be shy, now.” She pushed the snow yam and crocus onto the tile, and then, as Shane would later recount, things abruptly went sideways.

The community center was suddenly filled with that same, strange yelping noise Shane had heard earlier in the month. It was all around him now, and suddenly cacophonous, flooding his head with those awful cries. Shane backed up and he saw the farmer stand, turn towards him, and reach out for him. The room was shaking and glowing, getting brighter and brighter until he was both blind and deaf, and he could feel the farmer’s hands on his, and-

The room changed.

The light and sound fell away all at once and Shane was left blinking and short of breath, the farmer’s hands around his, and he suddenly realized that he was no longer standing in the run-down room he had been in just a moment ago. This new room was plush and furnished, the lights were on, and the carpet was thick and clean. It looked like a craft room.

“Are you okay?” The farmer asked, looking up at him.

“What the fuck was that?” Shane asked in response.

“I’m sorry.” The farmer let go of his hands. “I should have warned you. That part always gets me, too.”

“I don’t-I don’t get it,” Shane stammered, wholly unable to grasp what had just happened. “What did you do?”

“Look down,” the farmer said with a little smile.

There, at Shane’s feet, was what appeared to be a little bouncing blob of jelly. As he watched, it shuffled over, deposited a small bundle at the farmer’s feet, and then bounced away, chirping happily. The farmer bent over, picked up the pile, and unwrapped it. “Seeds again!” She announced, making a face.

“What is that?” Shane asked.

“Come on.” The farmer gently took him by the arm and walked him into the lobby, which was just as dark and cold as it had been when they arrived. The small blob bounced into a crack into the wall, and then returned a moment later. On the mantle, a fourth small star flickered into life. There were now only two divots in the plaque. Its work done, the blob bounced over to Shane and the farmer, and patiently rested at her feet.

“What the hell is going on?” Shane asked.

“I think they’re called Junimos.” The farmer bent to touch the small spirit, but it skittered just out of reach. “I don’t really know what they are. Forest spirits, maybe. That’s what the wizard thinks.”

“Forest spirits maybe, that’s what the wizard thinks,” Shane repeated, trying to wrap his mind around the past five minutes of his life. “Well of course the wizard would think they’re forest spirits, he’s obviously qualified to know, and what the fuck just happened to me?!”

“You wanted to know what’s going on with me,” the farmer explained. “I wanted to show you, firsthand. This is what I’ve been doing.”

“This? Breaking into abandoned buildings and playing with wild animals?”

“I know this is a lot to take in,” the farmer said gently. “But they live here. And me, I’ve been helping them for the past year. We’ve been rebuilding the community center together.”

“Together?” Shane asked helplessly. “What, are they teamsters?”

“I can’t explain it,” the farmer said, breathless and smiling. “And I know you don’t believe in these things, but Shane, they exist. They’re real. There’s an entire world out there that nobody in town knows about. Something beyond what we can comprehend. If you went down into the mines with me, you’d see. Monsters, spirits, ghosts… it’s real. It’s all real. I wanted to share it with you.”

“Real,” Shane repeated softly. And then, the small and vital part of his brain in charge of regulating unknowable things finally snapped. He turned on his heel and went outside, his breathing sharp and shallow. The farmer rushed after him.

“Shane!” She called to him, jogging beside him to keep up. “Look, I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you, but I wanted to show you what was going on. This is what I’ve been doing for the past year; I wanted to show you. I didn’t think it would get to you as bad as it did.”

“Listen to me,” Shane hissed, stopping and jabbing a finger into her chest. Some tiny part of him told him to try and keep a level head, but it was drowned out by the chorus of angry voices that had suddenly come alive in his chest, awake after growing strong on months of pent-up anger and helplessness. “I have spent the past thirty years of my life happy knowing that nothing happens for a reason, and that any hardship or fortune we encounter is, at best, a direct result of our actions. I was happy knowing that sometimes it’s just random and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. And then you, you drag me into some abandoned building and try to show me that maybe there is somebody who could do something about it, that there’s some higher fucking power at force in the world. What are you going to tell me next, that Yoba came down from the heavens and told you to feed the fucking hungry and heal the sick?”

“Shane, I-”

“You think you did me a favor, telling me that there’s some kind of supernatural force at work in the world? You think it makes me happy knowing everything happens for a reason?” His voice cracked, and he realized he was on the verge of tears. “Jas’ parents died. They had to pull their bodies out of their car with heavy machinery. And, what, you’re telling me that they’re ghosts now? My best friend died, and suddenly I had to take care of this little girl who I obviously have no idea how to raise, and you’re telling me maybe it was by design? I got stuck out in this shit town at this shit job because maybe somebody put me here? Like that’s supposed to comfort me?”

“Shane, I didn’t know-”

“You’re damn right, you didn’t know!” Shane thundered. “And I shouldn’t have had to fucking tell you like this!”

The farmer looked as if he had slapped her. Shane wheeled away from her, anger and grief hot and thick in his stomach, and walked away.

Chapter Text

Shane didn’t see too much of the farmer after that. She came around the saloon sometimes, and he saw her at the Feast of the Winter Star, but she kept her distance from him. Once, Shane caught her looking at him, but as soon as he saw her, she looked away. The feeling stuck in him like tar, black and ugly and poisonous, too thick for him to digest, so it hardened in him and became something he just had to live with. His usual solution of getting blackout drunk wasn’t helping him too much, though it wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. He began having nightmares about Jas’ parents, wandering the site of the car accident, crying for their missing daughter. In the worse iterations of that dream, Jas responded.

Winter ended, the ground thawed, and the stupid flower dance rolled around once again. This time, the farmer got her dance with Leah; they whirled around each other, laughing and smiling, and Shane felt sick all over for reasons he was uncomfortable acknowledging. The farmer didn’t spare him one glance, and that hurt even worse. He went home and drank himself to sleep, too numb to acknowledge the hurt in any other way. He felt like he should have cried, but nothing happened.

Shane had fucked up; that part was abundantly clear to him. Everyone had taken notice of the sudden chill that had cropped up between the two. Marnie had tried to pry, but had backed off when it became clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Emily’s admonishments had rolled off his shoulders, and he all but ignored Lewis whenever he tried to engage him in conversation. By mid-spring, Shane had fallen deeply into himself, and he had no way of getting out. Life had returned to that same numb routine Shane had once been familiar with.

That was when he came home to a wrapped slice of cake, along with a note and a basket of hot peppers on the kitchen table.

Shane,
I know things are weird between us now, but happy birthday.
I’m always here to talk if you want.
Your friend,

Shane crumpled the note before he got to her signature. It was his own birthday, and he’d somehow managed to forget. He wiped his eyes and looked at the peppers. How did she get them in spring? They looked fresh. Suddenly, he realized that he was crying. He expected some great revelation to accompany that, but none did.

Too numb to think anymore, Shane crawled into bed and went to sleep.

It still took Shane a few days to go talk to the farmer, and he might have never done it if it weren’t for Marnie, who (as she would tell him later) had gotten tired of answering questions about the unrest between her nephew and the farmer.

“How come the farmer gets sad whenever I talk about you?” Jas had asked Shane one morning over breakfast. After Shane recovered from choking on his drink, he managed to ask her what she meant. “I asked her if you saw her new goat, and she looked sad.”

“She and I are fine,” Shane managed. “We just had a little disagreement, that’s all.”

“About what?”

The evidence for higher powers at work in the universe, Shane thought miserably. “Nothing important.”

“You should say you’re sorry,” Jas advised. “I don’t want you to get weird whenever I talk about her.”

“I don’t get weird.”

“You do so.”

“That’s enough, Jas,” Marnie said gently. “Let Shane get to work now.”

Jas went back to eating her cereal, and Shane trudged to work. If you asked him to point out one noteworthy moment from the past month, he wouldn’t have been able to produce an answer. The days ran together: work, bar, sleep. He didn’t even have the energy to be grumpy. He supposed he had drank several pints at the bar after work and gone home, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone how much he had drank, or what he had eaten. He got home late, but to his surprise, Marnie was waiting for him.

“Have a seat,” she said. Shane recognized that it wasn’t a question, and sat.

“Shane, I’m worried,” Marnie said gently. “You’ve always been good at hiding how you feel, and I respect that. But something’s been different about you in the past few weeks, and it’s not a good difference.”

Shane said nothing in response.

“You’re worrying me,” Marnie continued after a moment. “And you’re worrying Jas, too. She asks about you. I mean, you don’t talk to us anymore, and you don’t see your friends anymore.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“That’s not true.” Marnie reached forward and touched Shane’s hand; he withdrew it immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Shane said softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know that, and I know you’re a good boy, Shane. But after Jas’ parents died, I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you, too.” She looked up at Shane, her eyes heavy with sadness. “You’re still my nephew, and I love you. I want to know if you’re not okay.”

“I don’t think I am,” Shane said softly. “I think I screwed up.”

“Shane, I don’t know what happened, but even if you feel depressed, you’re not alone. Jas and I… We’re still hurting, too. It’s not just you.”

“Marnie,” Shane managed to say, “what if you learned something that you never believed in before? Something that changed how you saw the world?”

“Shane.” Marnie smiled. “We’re always learning things like that. That’s what makes us human. But you should never be scared of it, sweetheart. If it’s there, it needs to be there. It’s up to us to figure out why.”

“Maybe,” Shane conceded.

“Just… Think about what I said, Shane. I know that sometimes it feels like it’s never getting easier, but I think if you look back, you’d see it’s already gotten easier. It’ll keep getting easier. And when it’s not, we’ll be right behind you.” Marnie stood up and wiped her eyes. “Anyway, goodnight. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you need anything.”

You’re a mess, Shane thought to himself as Marnie went off to bed. It wasn’t enough that he had alienated the farmer; now he was worrying everybody else in town, too. And for what? All because of some shit-ass globs of whatever-the-fuck living in the community center. The only meaningful relationships in his life, torpedoed by slime molds.

Fuck ‘em, he thought ruefully, and pulled the crumpled-up note from the farmer out of his pocket. He’d absentmindedly stuffed it there after his birthday, and hadn’t had the heart to remove it. Fuck them, and fuck that asshole Yoba, too. He had a kid to take care of. He had his aunt to watch out for. And he had an obnoxious friend up north who was waiting for him to write back. It wasn’t worth throwing all of that away.

The next day, Shane left work and walked straight home. That was where he found Jas, attempting to climb onto a pig’s back.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Cow’s too tall for me to ride,” Jas explained, which, Shane had to admit, made sense.

“Let’s leave the pigs alone,” he said gently, and he lifted Jas out of the paddock. “Here, I got you some cookies.”

“Cookies!” Jas immediately forgot her dreams of taking the hog to the horse show, and happily started eating.

“Listen,” Shane said, sitting on the fence beside her, “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird recently.”

“You have,” Jas said between bites.

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, I didn’t mean for it to get to you. You’re a good kid, and I want to make sure you’re happy. That’s priority number one.”

Jas stopped eating, and looked up at Shane. “Do you miss my mom and dad?”

Shane wished Jas would learn how to ease into questions like that. “Every day, kid.”

“Me too.” Jas looked out over the field, her face suddenly sad. “Vincent’s dad went away for a while and Vincent thought he died, but he came back. How come his dad gets to come back?”

Shane felt a very unpleasant jolt of recognition in that question. Jas wasn’t looking for simple answers; she wanted to know why Vincent was being afforded something she couldn’t have.

“Hey, that’s no way to be,” Shane said gently. “Vincent’s your friend, and even if he has something you don’t, you should be happy for him, yeah? That’s what being a friend is.”

“But why can’t my dad come back?”

He hadn’t come into this prepared to answer a child’s questions about mortality. “I don’t know, Jas. Sometimes adults don’t have all the answers. That’s why you’ve got to find your own. And sometimes… we never learn the answer. But that’s not a bad thing, either. As long as you’ve got people who love you.”

“Yeah.” Jas was looking down at the earth now.

“I know it’s been hard here, but they’d be proud, Jas. They had one heck of a kid. I know I’m proud.”

“Are you?” Jas asked.

“Every day. And I’m going to make sure I’m there every day for you from now on.”

In response, Jas wrapped her arms around Shane. “You’re a good cousin,” she murmured.

“I’m okay.” Shane held her in a hug for a while longer, and then let her go inside.

The walk to the farmer’s house seemed to take longer than normal. Shane had no idea why he dreaded it as badly as he did, but when he saw the farmer outside and she looked up at him, his heart froze. There was no turning back now.

“Shane,” she said, her voice soft.

“Hi,” he said, hoping the words would come out right so she’d know how much he regretted the chasm that had opened between them. “How’d you manage to get fresh peppers in spring?” Shit.

In response, the farmer leaned against her sickle and wiped her brow. “I’ll tell you if you share some dinner with me.”

Shane’s stomach suddenly felt very empty, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Sure.”

Half an hour later, the two of them were sitting on her porch as Shane finished off the last of the bass she had fried. It was Jodi’s recipe, the farmer explained. She had been invited over for dinner the week prior.

“Did you meet Vincent’s dad?” Shane asked.

“Yeah. Odd guy. Keeps to himself.”

“There’s an understatement.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Shane broke the silence. “I’m sorry about how I acted at the community center last month. You wanted to show me something that was special to you, and I… I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.”

“You really shouldn’t have,” the farmer agreed. “I showed you that because I trusted you. I wanted to share something that meant a lot to me.”

“I know. I should have appreciated that, but… It was too much, too soon. That’s a lot to swallow, you know? The whole, ‘I don’t know, maybe there’s evidence of the afterlife in the world after all.’”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What happened with her parents? I mean, if you want to talk about it.”

Shane sighed. “Her dad was technically my uncle, but we were pretty close in age. Marnie was the oldest kid, and my dad was second oldest, and Jas’ dad was the youngest. I think he was an accident, to tell you the truth, but I think I was, too. It was still nice having somebody my age to play with, especially since I didn’t have any siblings. Me and my parents… we were never really close. But my uncle filled the void, I guess. We played soccer together. I was best man at his wedding. He made me Jas’ godfather.”

“What happened?”

“Drunk driver. He was driving one of those big trucks, and he t-boned them and pushed the car into a tree. I was babysitting Jas. I… I didn’t know what to do. I got the call after I put her to bed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I couldn’t even tell you about the first couple weeks after it happened. It was a blur. The mortician called it ‘grief brain’ when I spoke to her later on. Anyway, Marnie took off from the ranch and came out to help. I don’t even think I thought twice when she offered to take us in.”

“She’s kind.”

“Yeah, she is. And thank goodness somebody did. I mean, I never really thought about having kids, and I certainly wasn’t prepared to just have one plopped in my lap like that. I knew I couldn’t do it without her.”

“For what it’s worth,” the farmer said gently, “I understand why you got angry.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Shane said. “Even now, I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“I couldn’t either, for a while. It helps if you don’t think of them as supernatural.”

“How am I supposed to think of those things as anything but supernatural?”

“Well, the way I see it is, if they’re there, they ought to be there. Even if I don’t understand why. Like, there are plenty of things out there that we don’t get, but they fit into the natural order whether or not we understand. Maybe we don’t know why they’re there, but they are, even if we don’t get it yet. And maybe they don’t mean there’s an afterlife, or real ghosts, or whatever. Maybe what’s down in the mines is completely different than that. I don’t know. I laid it on kind of thick back there. I’m sorry.”

“Did you tell anybody else?”

“No.” The farmer shook her head. “People… we tend to destroy things we can’t understand. I don’t want a mob out there in the caves.”

“You told me.”

“I trusted you. Trust you,” she suddenly corrected herself. “Sorry. I was afraid you’d tell everyone when you ran off that night.”

“No. People think I’m an asshole, but they don’t think I’m crazy. I’m not about to do anything to change that.”

The farmer smiled wanly. “Maybe you’re right. I’m sorry about Jas’ parents. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“I’m probably not managing it as well as I thought I was.” Shane rested his head on his knees. “All of a sudden, it was just… This town. This job. No choice in the matter. Nothing to really do but work and drink.”

“Would it help if I learned how to play soccer?” The farmer asked. Shane laughed.

“Teach the rest of the town, and then maybe we can get a league going.” Shane leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sighed. “So, are there any more secrets you want to tell me? Is Lewis a werewolf? Do we have bigfoot running around in the mountains?”

“There’s mouse that lives by your lake who sells hats,” the farmer said in a small voice.

“What?”

“Kidding! I’m just kidding. That was a joke.” She laughed. “So, do you want to know how I got the peppers?”

“Sure.”

The farmer gestured to the greenhouse, which was startlingly shiny and new. “I got it mid-winter.”

“How?”

“Community center.” She shrugged. “They… help, sometimes. They fixed the bus, too. They opened up a path to the quarry. I don’t know, in hindsight, it feels almost mundane. Forest spirits, but they only fix buildings and machinery.” She shrugged. “Maybe I thought about it too little, and you thought about it too much.”

“Fair compromise.”

“So, are we okay with each other?”

“Yeah. As long as you’re okay with me.”

“I am. I mean, I was mad at first, but I had some time to cool off, and I thought about it. I guess I’d be mad if I was in your situation, too.”

“Well, look. I know I’m a shitty person, and I don’t know why you’re hanging around with me, but I’m going to try and do better.”

“I don’t think you’re a shitty person, but I’m glad you don’t hate me.” She looked up at him, and there was something so warm, so inviting about her face, that Shane felt a sudden throb in his chest.

“Look, I’m going to turn in,” he said suddenly. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” The farmer smiled up at him. “Take care, Shane.”

“You too.”

Shane walked home, and, for the first time in a while, whistled a tune as he did so.

Chapter Text

Shane fucked up on the last day of summer. He fucked up so gloriously that he was sure it was one for the history books; future residents of Pelican Town would gather together and tell stories of The Time Shane Fucked Up, and there would probably be a dramatic reenactment of The Time Shane Fucked Up, and cute little cakes and cookies, and everyone would look forward to the beloved yearly tradition of The Time Shane Fucked Up Day.

But first, the rest of spring and summer.

The Egg Festival was better than he remembered it being last year, although he did spot Marnie and Jodi hovering over the punch bowl like hawks this time around. Shane swallowed his irritation at allowing Abigail to compete in (and subsequently win) the festival; shouldn’t it be for kids? On the other hand, given that Pelican Town only had two residents under the age of ten, it probably would have been a dull competition. Abigail gave the floppy straw hat she won as a prize to Jas, and that seemed fair to Shane.

Summer rolled in like a thundercloud. It was abnormally wet that year, and Shane grumbled his way through the rainy walks to and from Joja Mart. The rain caused the farmer’s crops to shoot up like bottle rockets, and she frequently bragged about the fact that her corn had grown so tall, you could get lost in it. The skies were clear for the luau, at least, and although Shane rolled his eyes at the governor’s proclamation that “the soup is even better this year than it was last year!” he couldn’t help but catch the proud smile on the farmer’s face. There were nights that summer when he and the farmer would stand by the fire at the Stardrop and talk about farming, or life in the city, or nothing in particular and enjoy the other’s company. Shane would remember that summer fondly.

Shane fucked up the night of The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies, when everyone was gathered around the docks, waiting for the first telltale glimmer in the water. Jas had run off to watch the festival with Abigail; after being gifted her hat at the Egg Festival, she had apparently taken a real shine to her and her purple hair. Shane was watching her closely, and when he was satisfied that Jas wasn’t going to tumble headfirst into the waves, he redirected his attention to the ocean beyond the docks.

Everyone was beginning to clump together as the night drew on, and Shane felt a chill go up his back when the wind picked up for a moment. It really was the end of summer, he thought to himself. Oh well, at least the humidity wasn’t a concern now.

The farmer was in attendance, doing her usual thing of making conversation with every last person in attendance before deciding to actually enjoy the festival. She had gotten a bad sunburn over the summer; her face and shoulders were red, and her arms were peeling. She looked like a lizard.

“Hey,” she said to Shane, who was her final stop on the socialization tour.

“Hi. You see any yet?”

“Nah. It’s early, though.” She turned toward the ocean, and folded her arms over her chest. Shane saw gooseflesh popping up on her skin.

“You’re cold.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Look at you, you’re shivering.”

“It’s still summer, Shane. It’s plenty warm. It’s just that there’s a bit of a breeze.”

“Here.” Shane rolled his eyes and shrugged his hoodie off. “Put this on.”

The farmer eyed him with suspicion. “When was the last time you washed that?”

“...Recently.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Please, do it for both of us. You’re cold, and if I don’t give you my hoodie, I look like a jerk. It’s a win-win. If it makes you feel any better, I’m doing it to save face.” The farmer considered it for a moment, and then put the hoodie on. If it was large on Shane, it was gargantuan on her. The sleeves came down past her fingertips. “Better?”

“Yes,” she replied grudgingly, zipping it up.

“I see one!” Alex shouted from the other side of the dock. “Out there!”

“Where?” Haley asked.

“Where I’m pointing!”

“I can’t see where you’re pointing because your hand’s in the way, jerk!”

The farmer stood up on her tiptoes and craned her neck. Out in the waves, there were the first glimmers of moon jellies beneath the waves. The farmer’s face lit up. “I see them.”

Soon, the ocean was awake and alive, the jellyfish glimmering and dancing beneath the waves. He didn’t know if she knew, but Shane noticed the farmer smiling widely, her eyes soft with wonder.

Maybe, he thought, Pelican Town wasn’t all bad sometimes. There were good days there. This was a good day.

Midnight approached, and villagers began to trickle away from the beach. Marnie stopped to bid Shane and the farmer a good night; Jas was tired and cranky, and it was still a school night, after all.

“I didn’t get to see the big one!” Jas whined.

“Maybe he’ll show up next year,” Marnie said gently, and with that, she hauled Jas off the beach.

“I should think about heading home,” the farmer said. “I have to plant the new crops tomorrow, and I get woozy if I’m up too late.”

“I should go, too. I have work in the morning.” This was entirely innocent on Shane’s part; he did have work the next day, and he did honestly want to get to bed. It was more or less a fluke that he wound up walking with the farmer, and they were so busy talking that he walked right past Marnie’s house and continued with her to her property.

“Did I ever tell you I used to work for Joja Corp?” She asked, hemming her way through the wild grasses that were now downright feral as a result of the rain.

“You did not.” Shane was doing his best to keep an eye out for any logs or rocks that might be arranged in his path.

“Yeah! I was in their corporate office in Zuzu. I was in the customer service division.”

“Customer service? No wonder you dropped everything and moved as far away as possible.”

“Yeah, I was always a bit sore about it.” They broke out of the wild grass and onto the edge of the farmer’s fields, which had been tilled in preparation for the coming season. “Four years at university, and I was all ready to change the world, you know? Gung ho, ‘I’m going to make somebody’s life better today, it starts with me.’ Imagine going from that to working in a call center. I just got more and more bitter.”

“No surprise there.”

“Well, maybe I needed it, I guess. If I hadn’t gotten as low as I did, I might have never gotten the nerve to make a decision as big as starting over out here. And I think I made the right decision, in the end. I know I never want to work corporate again, that’s for sure. You know we’re at my front porch, right?”

So they were. Shane shifted his weight awkwardly. “Right. Well, I do need my hoodie back.”

The farmer scoffed. “You walked me home so you could get your hoodie back?”

“You would have gotten cold if I had taken it back at Marnie’s.”

“You oughta watch out. You might ruin your reputation as the town grouch.” She smiled up at him. “Well, I won’t keep you. See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be at the Stardrop.”

“Okay.”

In later recollections, Shane had no idea who kissed who first. That first few seconds had been permanently blasted out of his mind, lost to all future inquiry and remembrance. It wasn’t urgent, or hasty, or burning with passions that would be silenced no longer(!); it was gentle and short, only a few seconds, and the farmer’s face stayed right there when they disconnected, her lips lingering a breath away from his. Some part of him dimly realized that his hands were on her waist.

Then, some unseen force in the back of Shane’s head fired the starting pistol, and he kissed her again, his arm snaking all the way around her waist, her fingers running through his hair. He cupped one side of her face in his hand and kissed his way down her neck, and when he got to the juncture of her shoulder, she made a noise that shot right down his spine and into his groin. She kissed him again, leaning into it now, and managed to disentangle herself long enough to whisper, “Stay.”

That was enough. They managed to fumble the front door open, and when they were inside, the farmer kicked it shut hard enough to make it rattle in its frame. His hands had migrated under her shirt, feeling the strength in her back and the softness of her skin, all the while pointedly ignoring a little voice in the back of his head that was gaining traction. That voice was being muffled, at least partially, by the farmer, who still had one hand in his hair and the other between his legs, rubbing with the sort of skill he had not expected from someone who wore dumpy overalls every day of the year.

He managed to break away from kissing her for half a moment to say, “Wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to be rude, but I can’t see shit.”

She chuckled against his mouth; he could feel the upward bow of her lips against his as she smiled. “Hold on a second.”

She detached herself from him, and he could just make out her silhouette, and hear the sound of clothing hitting the floor. There was the strike of a match, and a sudden little flame on a piece of paper, which bloomed outward and upward as it caught the tinder in the fireplace. The farmer was standing there, stripped down to her bra and panties, and in the warm light, Shane could see the strength in her arms and legs, the softness of her stomach, and the curve of her waist. For the first time, Shane found himself breathless.

It was at this exact moment that the little voice in the back of his head finally rose to the surface, and he felt a bolt of ice water hit him right in the stomach. This was happening. Oh fuck, this was going to happen.

“Shane?” The farmer walked over and took his hands in hers. “Are you okay?”

“S-sure. I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

Shane wanted to feel fine. He should have. He should have felt elated, probably, or at least horny, or any emotion that wasn’t a combination of anxiety and dread. What was he doing, right now? What was he going to do tomorrow? Or the day after? What if he was no good in bed anymore, or she laughed at him, or she woke up the next morning and said sorry, no dice, this was a mistake? What if she woke up a year from now and said that everything was a mistake? Was the pain of the eventual breakup worth this?

Shane had to get outside. He had to stop himself from making what could turn out to be a terrible decision.

“I have to go,” he choked.

“Wait, Shane, I didn’t-”

“Keep the hoodie.”

Shane wheeled around and booked it outside as fast as he could. Under the night sky, in the cool, clean air, his heart began to slow down, and by the time he had reached Marnie’s ranch, it had stopped banging against his ribcage. He could think again, although his thoughts were not exactly rosy. His stomach was suddenly roiling, but he managed to gather his wits long enough to remember to stay quiet when he snuck inside, and shut the door of his room with depressing finality. The farmer’s smell had lingered in his nose, a combination of earth and skin and pine, and he wanted to cry. Why had he done that? What was wrong with him? Why did it have to be at that exact moment that the howling chorus of doubt had risen in his head? And why, why had he listened?

“Stupid,” he muttered, and pulled his pillow over his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Chapter Text

Marnie was not coy about how surprised she was the following morning when Shane trudged into the kitchen.

“Shane!” Of course, she tried to modulate her voice a bit, but there was no mistaking how unexpected Shane’s presence was. “You’re here.”

That felt like salt in the wound to Shane, who poured himself a glass of orange juice and tried to maintain his poker face. “Well, I do live here.”

“Of course. Well, I’m going to Pierre’s today. Do you want anything?”

A new identity in another country, Shane thought grimly. “No, I’m okay.”

“Okay. Well, if you think of anything, let me know.”

The only thing Shane could think of in that moment was how he had had his chance yesterday, and blown it in the most spectacular fashion imaginable. In the cold light of morning, his fears the previous night seemed unwarranted, even silly. He had shot himself in the foot because he was scared of getting dumped a year down the line? What an absolute joke. And it wasn’t like he could do anything about it now. What was he going to say? “Hey, sorry I left you hanging after you invited me into your home and offered to let me spend the night, I just have really powerful abandonment issues that manifest themselves as emotional distance, it’s been so long that another person has shown a desire for emotional or physical intimacy with me that I have no idea how to react”?

Shane wanted to die. How many people had seen him walk off the beach with her last night? How many people were going to talk now? He was almost happy that Morris had absolutely no connection to the town, because at least he wouldn’t pry. Shane was left to mire himself in his own despair for the workday, which suited him just fine. He stocked shelves and wondered why he was such a screw-up for the next eight hours, which was all he cared for multitasking. As quitting time rolled around, he wondered if he should chance a visit to the saloon. It was a Monday night; it should be sparse. And it beat going home and having Marnie walk on eggshells around him. Truth be told, getting drunk felt like a pretty good idea to him. He’d made the worst decision of his life stone sober the night before; what was booze going to do to top that? His made his way to the saloon, slid onto a stool, and ordered a pint.

If Gus or Emily knew anything, they weren’t letting on. Shane was grateful for the solitude, and even more grateful for the discretion. He sat in silent remorse for a while and was well into his fourth pint when Lewis sat down next to him.

Oh, great. Shane’s patience was already dry; he didn’t want to imagine how the next ten minutes were going to go. As if on cue, Gus slid Lewis a drink, and then found a spot on the far side of the bar that urgently needed scrubbing.

“Shane,” Lewis said casually. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Shane said, fighting to keep his voice neutral.

“How’s Joja Mart?”

“Fine.” This entire conversation was becoming so stilted that it was going to cause Shane physical pain if it continued. Lewis took a long sip of his beer. Shane was wondering who would crack first. Of course, it was him. “What do you want?”

“Just to talk. You’re Marnie’s nephew, but we’ve never really had a conversation.”

“Well, I do work for the company that’s trying to shut down the general store.”

“That’s not your fault.” Lewis took another swig of beer. “How do you like it at Joja Mart?”

“I mean, it’s okay, I guess. It’s a job.”

“Do you see yourself there for a while?”

“Maybe? I don’t know.”

“Shane, let me offer you some free advice.” Shane would really rather he didn’t, but there was no graceful way to stop the conversation now, and he was too drunk and sad to resist. “I have spent the entirety of my adult life as mayor of Pelican Town. And I loved it. Still do.” He paused for another swig of beer. “But sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have poured as much of myself as I did into the job. I never married, never had children, never opened myself up to everything else that was out there. And when I get to be too old to do the job, what else is going to be left for me?” Lewis looked at Shane, and Shane was surprised to see something very similar to loneliness on the other man’s face. “I made that sacrifice for a job I loved. I can’t imagine doing it for one that I didn’t.”

“You want to get to the point?”

“Shane, I can’t think of a worse idea than spending your life alone, doing something you hate, until you get old enough to realize what a mistake you’ve made. Hindsight’s the worst curse we inherited as a species; believe me when I say there’s no feeling quite as bad as regret.”

Shane sighed. “Marnie told you, didn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah. She also told Pierre, who told Caroline, who mentioned it to Robin at step class, who told Maru, who told Harvey, who--”

“Is this entire town invested in my love life or something?”

“Shane, be reasonable. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to us in years.”

“Lewis, don’t take this the wrong way, but mind your own business.”

“Suit yourself.” Lewis shrugged. “You don’t have to listen to me. But for goodness’ sake, at least listen to yourself. You don’t want Joja to take the best years of your life.”

Lewis left a tip on the counter and walked away, whistling as he did so. Shane looked over at Gus, who looked back and shrugged. “You want to weigh in on this, too?” Shane asked.

“No. But Emily thinks you two would be cute together.”

Shane looked over at Emily, who nodded vigorously and gave him a thumbs up. He sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his hair. “When did everybody start caring about this?”

Gus took Shane’s empty pint glass. “Look, I get it, it’s easier to just not bother with the whole rigamarole. That doesn’t make it painless, though.”

“I’m gonna go.” Shane slid off his bar stool. This was too much for him at the moment. “I’ll see you around, Gus.”

“Sure thing.”

Shane didn’t feel like going home; his bed had suddenly begun to feel small and cold, and his thoughts were unbearably loud. The river was bright under the moon, and the wind was gentle. He felt that he was up against an immeasurably tall wall, and on the other side of it was a life worth living. His heart hurt.

More pressingly, he wasn’t going to be able to avoid her forever.

Shane checked his phone; it was still early, only nine. The idea of talking to her filled him with dread, but a larger part of him wanted--well, it wanted something. He couldn’t decide what. Everything, it was saying, was right in front of him, if he would just be brave enough to do it. In fact, in some happier alternate universe, he had sealed the deal the previous night and had probably eaten pancakes or something for breakfast that morning, bathed in post-coital bliss. In that universe, he had probably also quit his job at Joja Mart and was raising fancy chickens. Shane realized, with growing irritation, that Lewis was completely right. He was stuck in a rut, and he was either unwilling or unable to crawl out of it. He had everything he wanted in front of him, right within reach if he would only extend his fucking arm to grab it. Was he going to go after it or not?

“Shane!”

Of course, sometimes those things go after you, too.

Shane turned and saw the farmer all but jogging down the road toward him, and his stomach withered. As she neared him, he saw that she looked achingly tired, and he felt a pang of guilt.
“I went looking for you at the saloon, but Gus said that you’d left,” she said, fighting to catch her breath.

“Yeah,” Shane managed to choke out.

“Look, I owe you an apology,” she said, her voice jittery. “I obviously came on too strong last night, especially when you already told me you just wanted to be friends. I’m sorry about that. I should have considered your--”

“Dyouwannagonadatewithme,” Shane blurted out.

The farmer paused mid-speech, and her expression shifted to disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Shane couldn’t blame her; he had trouble believing he’d just said that, too. “Do you want to go on a date. With me.”

“You want to go on a date,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“Yes.”

“And this isn’t a joke. No fooling.”

“No. Look, you’re probably aware of this by now, but I’m a mess. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and I hate my job, and I hate this town, but after I got to know you, I started hating everything a little bit less. I don’t know how you managed to do that, but if you still want to go for it, after everything I’ve done, then I’m game to try it out.”

“You’re sure,” she said.

“I’m as sure as I can be. Look, I’m not going to lie, the idea of this still scares the hell out of me, but we’re not having much luck with staying friends. I want to try, but… can we keep it quiet for now, and just take it slow and see where it leads?”

A smile bloomed across the farmer’s face. “Yeah. We can go slow.” She reached out and grabbed his hands in hers, and then immediately loosened her grip. “Is this okay? Is this too much?”

“No,” Shane smiled. “No, this is okay.” He had not noticed it the previous night, but her hands were a far cry from when when she had first reached out to shake his hand with blistered and bandaged fingers. Her hands had grown as hard and smooth as river rocks in her time in Pelican Town. “Where do we go from here?” He asked.

“How about at the Stardrop tomorrow after work?” She asked.

“And we’ll take it from there.”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hands gently. “Walk me home.”

“Why?”

“Relax, I’m not going to jump you. I have your hoodie there.”

Walking with her, hand in hand, felt strange to Shane. It had been a while since he’d last done this, and he had to switch how he oriented his hand against hers, how to match pace with her, how closely to walk without bumping into one another. But he did alright, all things considered, and he was grateful for how easily conversation still came to them. It matched the timbre of their previous conversations, just with some hand-holding.

“You know,” the farmer said as they neared her porch, “that offer last night wasn’t conditional.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could have told me you didn’t want to get, you know, physical. I wouldn’t have thrown you out. You could have just slept over without, uh, ‘sleeping over.’”

“It wasn’t just that.” Shane rubbed the back of his head. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been with another person, and I… I don’t know, I panicked. What if you woke up this morning and said it was a mistake?”

“Fat chance. Stay here.” She disappeared inside and returned with his hoodie, folded neatly. “This is yours.”

Shane inspected it. “Did you wash this?”

“...Yes.”

Shane ignored the urge to engage; he was just happy he had his hoodie back. He’d felt naked without it. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The farmer smiled. “And, look, I know this feels like a risk for you. But I’m happy you’re taking a chance on it, anyway.”

“And you’re okay with going slow?”

“We can go however slow you want.”

“Okay.” Shane leaned in, and gently kissed her on the cheek. “Dinner, tomorrow night?”

“Sounds good. Should I wear my fancy dress?”

“You don’t own one of those, and we both know it.”

“Okay, you got me.” The farmer rolled her eyes. “Tomorrow night. It’s a date. Just don’t order a salad for me.”

“You got it.”

Optimism was not a feeling Shane was well-acquainted with, but it still warmed his thoughts on his way back to Marnie’s. He had a date! With a woman he liked! An honest to goodness date at a restaurant, a meet-at-a-set-time, order-dinner, he-should-pay date. The autumn evening seemed downright warm to him at that fact. And for whatever strife the future might hold (and make no mistake, it did hold plenty), for Shane, that night was good.

Chapter Text

Shane spent the next day fretting, which was something he was beginning to realize he was very talented at. He spent much of his time at work calculating the number of ways things could go wrong, had come up with a number in the upper thousands, and was making considerable progress in fleshing out every scenario thereafter. He was so lost in constructing Scenario #3852 (he makes a joke about cancer, the farmer’s mother recently died of cancer, she throws her drink in his face and storms out) that he walked right past the farmer on his way out of work and didn’t even notice until she tapped him on the shoulder.

“You can’t blame me for spooking you on that one,” she said as a greeting. “I waved when you walked out of the building.”

Shane recognized this as Scenario #194, where he managed to torpedo the date before it even began by failing to realize that she might meet him at Joja Mart, and not the Stardrop. “Sorry,” he managed. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m picking you up at work.”

“Don’t you need to have a car to pick somebody up?”

The farmer shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really want to loiter around in the Stardrop, though.”

“Okay, fair. Do you want to get going?”

“Sure.”

So, Scenario #194 had not come to fruition, which was a relief to Shane. Neither did Scenario #93 (he was carried away by a sudden flash flood), Scenario #396 (the farmer died on the spot of an aneurysm), or Scenario #458 (Shane was suddenly accosted by the farmer’s secret husband and/or wife, who had tracked her down to Pelican Town). In fact, by all accounts, the date seemed to be going pretty smoothly by the time they reached the Stardrop. Shane, thank goodness, remembered his manners and held the door for the farmer when they went inside. It was a gesture she raised her eyebrows at, but offered no further comment. They slid into a booth, and when Shane looked over at the bar, he saw Gus flash him a smile. Whatever restraint he was using, it was apparent that Emily had not marshaled the same level of internal resources.

“What can I get you two?” She asked, grinning the same sort of delight Jas did when she was opening birthday presents.

“I’d love a beer,” the farmer said.

“Make it two.” Shane was hoping that spontaneous telepathy was a thing, because he wanted to tell Emily that her expression was a hair shy of manic. She mercifully left them alone, but Shane did notice a few curious glances from the other tavern-goers. He prayed none of them offered comment.

“So,” the farmer leaned forward on her elbows, “how was your day?”

“Uh.” Shane blanked. “It was okay, I guess. It’s not really exciting in Joja Mart. Nothing like working a farm.”

The farmer laughed. “Do you think what I do is thrilling?”

“Well, you’re the one going on adventures. Fighting things in mines, making friends with wizards, meeting whatever the hell those things are in the community center. What did you say they were? Jujubees?”

“Junimos!” The farmer was smiling. “And it’s not all that. That’s like one percent of it.”

“Come on, it’s at least five percent.”

“No, no. I know it looks glamorous-”

“I was not going to say glamorous. I’ve seen how you look after harvest.”

“It’s hard work. Most of my days are planting crops and taking care of the animals, and now that I’ve got so many, that’s really all of my day-to-day life. That other stuff isn’t the bread and butter.”

“Is that why so many weird things started happening after you got here?”

“Maybe this place was always weird, and you never noticed.” The little knowing smile she had when she said that aggravated Shane just as well as it always did. Even now, there was some sort of curtain up around her, like she knew something he didn't, and she wasn't going to share. Still, he held his tongue, because confronting her about whatever weirdness she was involved in and having a public altercation was accounted for in Scenario #955.

Dinner progressed smoothly, all things considered. They split a pizza, and as they ate, Shane realized two things. A: everyone was staring, and B: this conversation was no different from any other they had ever had. The rhythm and cadence was the same, she made the same dumb jokes, and she still laughed whenever he made fun of Morris. The only difference was that he suddenly realized he was actively resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand. No sense giving everyone something to gossip about, not when it was just the first date. He didn't want to have to answer any questions later if things went south.

When dinner was over, the two stood under the open night sky and looked off over the river, to where the sea was. After a moment, he felt something touch his palm, and he saw that the farmer's pinky finger had entwined itself with his. Now, with some privacy, he gave in and held her hand. After another moment of silence she asked, “You interested in walking me home?” Which, of course, he was.

Autumn had been good for the farmer so far; he could see her fields were loaded with corn and patches of tilled earth, and she had not been shy about her plans to unseat Pierre at this year’s Stardew Valley Fair. The night was cool, and the breeze stirred his hair. Perhaps unconsciously, he pulled his hands (and one of hers, as well) into his pockets. In the back, the farmer’s new greenhouse stood, quiet and peaceful.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, unbidden.

“They helped you make that greenhouse?” He asked.

“Yeah. It took me a while to get everything they needed. They don’t work for cheap.”

“You’d never know. I mean, about the… whatever-they-ares. It looks normal here.”

“Well, maybe it's not magic.” The farmer shrugged. “Maybe one day they’ll have an answer for it. Maybe they’re actually just swamp gas.” She squeezed his hand. “You okay?”

“It’s still a lot to swallow, but I’ll get over it.” In truth, Shane was coping by just not thinking about it. As far as he was concerned, that greenhouse had manifested itself there one night through completely normal and natural circumstances, and the farmer was fixing the community center herself. He decided to change tack. “I wish there were more places to take you.”

“There are plenty of places to go,” the farmer said. “There’s the sea, there’s the mountains, we have the forest…”

“I mean places that don’t involve going outside. I don’t know. A movie theater or something. More than one restaurant.” He sighed.

“That’s okay. I just like hanging out with you.” She popped up onto her tiptoes, and kissed Shane on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey.” Haltingly, and maybe a bit imperfectly, he rested his hand on her cheek, and kissed her. He felt her sigh and rest against him, and after a moment, they separated and lingered in silence. He wished that that had been their first kiss. Maybe he’d consider that the official one. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” The farmer lowered herself to her feet, and in the dim light of the porch, Shane saw that she was blushing. “Good night.”

Shane did not think he was boyfriend material by any stretch of the imagination, but he fell into the rhythm of their fledgling relationship with surprising ease. This, he knew, was in part to the farmer, who was accommodating in an almost imperceptible way. It took Shane a few dates to realize it, but she was holding herself back, letting him dictate the beat they would march to, and being blessedly discreet about what was going on between them. Truth be told, Shane appreciated the leeway she granted him, but he secretly worried about how long things would last. He was always waiting for her to finally balk, to take him by the hand and gently explain that she thought they worked better as friends. And, while he would admit that they worked well together, he was secretly preparing himself for the day that all fell away and he was left alone.

The Stardew Valley Fair rolled around again, and this time, Shane made very sure to stay away from the fortune teller. Jas was thankfully more interested in funnel cake and the petting zoo this time around, and by the time the afternoon was winding down, she had befriended every animal at the fair and eaten half her weight in fried food. Shane was telling her for the fourth time that night that she couldn’t get any fried cookies when he heard applause from across the fairground and realized that the winners of the grange competition had been announced.

“Come on, kiddo, we gotta see who won.”

“Shaaaaane,” Jas whined. “I want to see the sheep.”

“You’ve been looking at the sheep for half an hour.”

“That’s not long enough. Do you think Marnie will let me have a sheep?”

“Well, what do you say we go ask?”

This was an acceptable compromise for Jas, who booked it over to the grange displays and zeroed in on Marnie, who was standing beside this year’s display with apparent pride. Two booths over was the farmer, who was sporting two comically large sheaves of wheat in her arms and a lovely blue ribbon on her grange. Beside her, Pierre looked like he was doing his best to keep a stiff upper lip.

“Congratulations.” Shane smiled at the farmer in greeting, and turned to Pierre. “You gave her a run for her money, right?”

“It was close, but I concede victory.” Pierre shrugged. “I can’t compete with local-brewed beer.”

“You made beer?” Shane looked at the grange and could see that, yes, there were bottles of wine and beer present. “You didn’t tell me you could make beer.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure I got the process right before I entered it. That’s why I set up the wheat; I wanted to get a theme going. And,” she added, quieter, “I was going to see if you wanted to crack some of the premiere vintage open with me. You know, to celebrate.”

Shane made sure Pierre was out of earshot, and then whispered, “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He looked back at Marnie and saw her give him a wink and a nod. Well, of course she'd figured it out. That was a given. He hoped he was giving her his best please use discretion about this face. “Do you want my help packing up?”

“Sure.”

By the time the grange had been packed up, the sun had set and the two were able to enjoy an unseasonably warm evening for their walk back. By the time the farmer had stowed her crops, it was getting late, but Shane couldn’t bear to leave. The farmer had named her premiere brew the Pelican Pale Ale, and the weather was so lovely outside that they agreed to drink out on the porch with the fire pit going in front of them. They talked about nothing in particular, their conversation ambling around in circles as the bottles began to pile up beside them and the fire burned down to red coals. It was some time into the night that Shane realized something had shifted in the farmer’s demeanor. She was laughing louder, and she was uncharacteristically forward, resting her head on his shoulder and sidling up next to him as the night grew colder. Finally, a light flicked on in his head.

“Are you drunk?” He asked.

“No’mnot,” the farmer slurred, her eyes half-closed. “I’m fine. ‘Mfine.”

“I think you are. You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Shane reached past her to grab her bottle (still half-full), and was not surprised when she buried her face in his neck and sighed. “Nope. Come on. You’re cut off.”

“‘Sno fair,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“I can’t believe that I’m being the responsible one right now. Come on, let's get up.”

“Nooooo.”

“Yes.” Shane hauled her to her feet and guided her back inside. It was past midnight, and he had to be up for work in six hours. “Time for bed.”

“Wait.” The farmer’s head was still resting against his shoulder, and she began kissing her way up his neck. “Stay.”

“Oh, no. None of that. Here.” Shane deposited the farmer into her bed, ran to the sink, and filled the largest glass she had with water. “Come on, stay with me. I need you to drink this.”

“Nooo,” the farmer protested weakly.

“Yes.” Shane pushed the glass into her hands. “I don’t suppose you remember if you have any painkillers.”

“No,” she replied after she finished drinking.

“Well, sucks to be you.” Shane did some more rooting around in the kitchen, and found a loaf of bread. The farmer was only semi-conscious when he returned to her with a slice. “Eat this.”

“Idonwanna.”

“I don’t care. Eat.” He wondered dimly if this sort of thing happened in sweeping romances, or if it was just his luck. She resentfully chewed and swallowed the bread, downed the last of the water, and Shane gently pulled the covers over her. It was now half past twelve, and Shane was looking at an hour’s walk back to Marnie if he left now. Or, he thought, he could take the farmer up on the offer to stay. If that happened, the town would probably be aflame in gossip the next day. But, fuck it, he was achingly tired.

The farmer’s pullout couch looked old, but it was comfortable enough, and there was a warm blanket folded over the top that Shane pulled over himself. In the other room, he could hear the farmer snoring. She sounded like an industrial log-cutter. Still, it was late, Shane was tired, and the couch bed wasn’t bad to sleep on. Sometime between the farmer’s third snore and her fourth, he was fast asleep.

Chapter Text

It would have been nice to say that Shane slept through the night and awoke refreshed and rejuvenated the next morning, but what actually happened was he awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of someone chewing. He managed to pry one eye open and saw the farmer, hunched over her kitchen table, dismally eating a bowl of cereal. She looked half-asleep. Shane groped for his cell phone and saw that it was 3:32.

“What are you doing?” He asked, screwing his eyes shut again.

“‘S morning,” the farmer replied through a mouthful of corn flakes. “Gotta get up.”

“It’s three-thirty in the morning,” Shane groaned. “Don’t you have a clock next to your bed?”

There was a very profound pause from across the room, and then, very quietly: “Shit.” Shane heard the farmer get to her feet and shuffle back to her bedroom, and then stop halfway. “What’re you doing here?”

“I am trying to sleep,” Shane grumbled.

“Why’re you on the pullout?”

“Would you go back to bed!?” In response, he heard the farmer pad over to the pullout and felt her weight settle on the other side of it. When he felt her head hit the pillow next to his, he rolled over, away from her. “Oh, no. Nope. Not interested right now. Not like this.”

“Relax.” The farmer pulled the blankets over herself. “I don’t want to do anything, I just… I’d rather sleep next to you. I can go back to my bed, if you want.”

Shane rolled over, debated for a moment, and then sighed. “Sure, fine, stay. Just let me get back to sleep.”

“Okay.” He felt the covers shift again, and the farmer exhaled. He could smell her again, the combination of skin and earth, now combined with woodsmoke, and before he could manage another thought, he drifted back to sleep.

Morning came too quick and too bright for Shane’s taste, and certainly too early: he woke up an hour before his alarm was set to go off. His head was fuzzy and his stomach ached when he woke up, and then he realized, with a dawning sense of panic, that there was a woman curled against him, his arm wrapped around her waist. Then, the events of the previous night came rushing back, and he relaxed and sighed. Beside him, the farmer stirred, and then groaned. “Morning,” Shane said, still trying to convince himself to actually wake up.

“I’m dying,” she replied.

“What, you've never been hungover before?” Shane managed, and rolled onto his back. “Drink some water.”

“It feels like something died in my mouth,” she groaned.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it smells like that too.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Shane rose, ran a hand through his hair, and staggered over to the sink. As he was filling up a glass of water, he heard the farmer sit up, and looked over at her. He had not realized it last night, but she had managed to change into her pajamas. She was looking at him with a note of panic.

“Did we…?”

“No.” Shane shuffled over and handed her the glass. “I’ll have you know I was perfectly honorable last night, in spite of your best efforts.”

“Sorry.” She took a long drink of water, and then sighed. “I really am sorry.”

Shane couldn’t resist; after all the grief she’d given him the previous night, he just couldn’t help it. “‘Stay,’” Shane repeated to her in his best breathy falsetto. The farmer turned bright red and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow.

“I’m moving,” she announced. “I’m leaving forever. Goodbye.”

“Come on, it’s okay.” Shane squeezed her shoulder. “I understand that the ratty hoodie and dead-end job make me irresistible.”

“I hate you,” she groaned.

“Okay. Here. I want you to eat something, and I’m going to let your animals out, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that,” the farmer replied, her face still buried in her pillow.

“Do us both a favor and eat something. By the way, as the town expert on hangovers, I can tell you that the best way to cure a hangover is an egg sandwich.” He kissed her on the back of the head and made his way outside. The cool air did wonders for his head and stomach, and he actually felt a modicum of curiosity about the animals in the farmer’s barn. When he walked in, he was greeted by two cows, two goats, a pig, and a sheep, all of which made a bee-line for him. Feeling a sudden surge of panic, he threw the doors open and watched the horde wander past him to roll in the grass.

The coop was far nicer; he was happy to see that the farmer’s five chickens and two ducks were happily nesting, and that Charlemagne, who was still eyeing him with eerily human contempt, stuck against the back of the wall and away from him. He made the rounds the way he did with Marnie’s chickens certain mornings, scratching them on the backs of their heads and hand-feeding them grain. As he ushered the birds outside, he realized that he was genuinely enjoying himself.

By the time he made it back inside, the house smelled like breakfast. The farmer was hunched at the table, eating a fried egg and cheese on toast. There was a second sandwich sitting on the table beside her, this one doused in hot sauce.

“That’s yours,” the farmer said, pushing it toward him.

“You made me breakfast?”

“You let the animals out.”

Shane smiled and pulled up a chair beside her. The sandwich was, naturally, delicious. “How much of this came from here?” He asked between bites.

“All of it,” the farmer said, her mouth full.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I hope you’re not a coffee-drinker, though, because I haven’t figured out how to grow that yet.”

“Don’t worry.” Shane finished his sandwich and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, I’ve got to get to work.”

“Back to that dead-end job that drives me wild?” The farmer asked with a little smile.

“Well, a job’s a job.”

“You know,” the farmer said, “if you think farm work agrees with you…”

“Nope.” Shane kissed the farmer on the cheek. “I prefer to keep work and my personal life separate. Anyway, take it easy today. I’ll stop by tonight.”

Shane, despite being overtired and a little hungover himself, felt a small kick of happiness as he walked to work. In spite of the fact that his morning had an inauspicious start, he wasn’t running late, he’d gotten an egg sandwich for breakfast, and, hey—waking up next to the farmer hadn’t been half-bad way to start the day, either. Even though he didn’t consider spending a chaste night at the farmer’s house to be news, he supposed that word was going to travel, anyway. It was just a question of how fast.

Shane arrived at Joja Mart, changed into his uniform, and got to work stocking shelves. Not two hours later, Sam took a break from sweeping floors to approach him. “Hey,” he said, his voice full of forced casualness. Crap.

“What’s up, Sam?” Shane asked.

“Did you really spend the night at the farmer’s last night?”

So, apparently Pelican Town was trying to break the land-speed record for gossip. Shane sighed, and rolled his eyes. “How’d you find out?”

“Well, Marnie stopped by Pierre’s today, and my mom was there for aerobics club, and she-”

“Okay, okay, say no more. Look, we…” Shane wasn’t interested in besmirching the farmer’s reputation by being honest about why he was at her home last night, but he was also not too hot about having his personal matters telegraphed across the town. “We spent some time together last night talking. It turned into a late night, so I crashed on her couch.”

“Oh.” Sam looked unsure of that answer. “So, I mean, if I were to…? Are you guys…?”

There was an increasingly loud voice in the back of Shane’s head shouting at him to just get it over with. He had everything he wanted within arm’s reach, if he would only extend his fucking arm. “Yeah,” he finally said. “We kind of are.”

“Oh.” There was a note of disappointment in Sam’s voice. “So, she’s…?”

“Spoken for.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, look, congratulations. I’m really happy for you both.”

Shane wanted to say, “thanks for nothing, you spiky-haired miscreant,” but instead he managed a “thanks,” and went back to stocking shelves. Well, he mused, that was it. The cat was more or less officially out of the bag. Still, Shane felt less anxious about it than he thought he would. They were together. They were a thing. He was somebody’s boyfriend.

Shane smiled to himself, and continued to do so for the rest of the day as he stocked shelves.

That evening, as Shane walked to the farmer’s, he caught himself whistling, and even waved at Pam as she passed by on her way to the saloon. When he saw the farmer, she was busy harvesting, a bushel of corn at her feet. She still looked rough, but less so than she had that morning.

“You look happy,” she said in a voice that suggested she was more suspicious about that than anything.

“I, uh, I made a decision, today. And I, uh, I kind of wished I’d been able to talk to you about it first.”

“Yeah?” She tossed another few ears of corn into the basket and turned to face him, wiping her brow.

“Well, Sam asked me if we were an item.”

The farmer raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“I said yes.”

The farmer raised her eyebrows even higher. “You said yes?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I should have asked you first if you were okay with it, but I was sort of on the spot, and, I don’t know, I like you. I like us. I like being with you. If you’d be willing to make it official—”

“Shane.” The farmer stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth. “All I was waiting for was for you to say you were okay with that.”

“I know, I just didn’t know if you still felt that way.”

“Of course I do.” She bumped her forehead against his. “Can’t turn down a man who’s willing to sleep on a couch bed my parents bought twenty years ago.”

“Tell me you’ve cleaned it since then.”

“...Maybe. Anyway, can I convince you to stay for dinner? I was going to make soup. It’s about all I can handle right now.”

Shane had actually never seen the farmer at work in her own kitchen before, so he agreed. It was probably less impressive than usual; her movements were sluggish and she yawned frequently, but she did wind up making a darn good soup. It was good weather for it, anyway, and in the end, they ate in the kitchen with a quiet sort of ravenousness that comes from being hungover. After the meal ended and the dishes piled into the sink, they went out to sit on the porch together. It was no surprise to Shane when the farmer rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“Interested in staying the night again?” She asked, her expression peaceful.

“I… Uh…” Shane was inwardly scrabbling at the corners of his mind for words, but, as usual, they refused to manifest themselves. The farmer smiled, reached out, and took his hand.

“No pressure,” she said. “I won’t be mad if you say no.”

Then, the mental fog cleared for Shane, and he found himself once more capable of human speech. “I don’t mean to constantly shoot you down, I would just still prefer to take it slow. It’s… been a while, if you get what I’m saying.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m not interested in pushing you into anything you don’t want to do. Truth be told, I just kind of liked having somebody next to me last night. It gets lonely out here.”

“Maybe I would be interested, then. If you’re sure you’re okay with it. Not having sex, I mean.”

“I’m okay with it.”

That night, Shane found himself in the farmer’s bed, which was leaps and bounds more comfortable than the lumpy pullout had been. The farmer was already nestled under the covers when he climbed in, and she made herself comfortable resting against him, her head just above his shoulder and one arm draped over his chest.

“Are you okay with this?” She asked, her eyes already closed.

“This is fine,” he responded, and gently kissed her forehead. And, actually, it was.

Chapter Text

Shane fucked up again on the second day of winter, and this time, it was entirely the result of another person’s fuckup. It was unpleasant and hurtful, and Shane would forever remember it with the sort of regret that accompanies knowing that you should have known better. It wasn’t the happy sort of fuckup, either. It was possibly one the worst fuckups ever.

Shane and the farmer entered a sort of rhythm in the interim. He’d spend one or two nights a week at her place, she’d greet him after work, he’d buy her a beer at the Stardrop. They circled their boundaries tentatively, the farmer never making the first move, although Shane had no doubt in his mind that she very much wanted to. Still, she kept her hands to herself and made sure the contact stopped at resting her head on his chest on the nights he stayed over. Gradually, Shane realized he was looking forward to waking up in the morning with one arm wrapped around her waist, even if her hair was always inevitably in his face.

Perhaps the only immediate drawback was that Marnie had grown very smug over how things had proceeded. When Shane did return to her house after his second night at the farmer’s, she had a cheshire grin that went ear to ear.

“Not a word,” Shane said, pointing at her.

“I was only going to say congratulations,” Marnie replied. “And that we saw it coming.”

“Oh sure, you and every other fortune teller in town.”

“Shane, it didn’t take a fortune teller.”

“Shane, if you and the farmer are boyfriend and girlfriend, does that mean I can come over and pet her cows?” Jas asked, looking up from the homework.

“You’re going to have to ask her, kid, but I don’t think she’ll mind.”

“Vincent said that when we get older, he wants to be my boyfriend.”

“Jas, let’s try to do better than that.”

“Shane,” Marnie scolded, “he’s eight.”

“I stand by my assessment.”

Shane had to admit that, in retrospect, making it official had taken a load off his shoulders. It was no longer a cause for gossip to see them out and about together, and he no longer had to suppress the urge to hold her hand in public. There was the occasional whisper, but by and large, their decision had taken the wind out of everyone’s sails, and speculation died down. Shane was almost entirely settled into the relationship when, of course, he fucked up.

It was early winter, and the town had dissolved into a frenzy over news of a massive blizzard rolling through the area in the next day or so. It was supposed to be The Blizzard of the Century, forecasted to drop enough snow on the area to bury cars and front doors. Nobody was happy about it, and Joja Mart was uncharacteristically busy with people prepping for the storm. Even Abigail was there, although she made Shane swear not to tell, because her dad wasn’t going to let her buy any wine from their store to ride the storm out with.

Sometime during the frenzy, Morris approached Shane. “Shane! Quite some business we’re doing today.”

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, handing several gallons of water to Jodi.

“I can’t help but notice the farmer isn’t here,” Morris said. “How strange. Aren’t you two… involved?”

“I… Yeah. And?”

“Well, I was hoping she might be a bit invested in seeing your place of employment succeed,” Morris replied, his voice silky. “It’s too bad she isn’t here.”

“Well, she makes a lot of stuff herself,” Shane answered, trying to ignore the feeling of bugs crawling all over his skin. “Maybe she’ll stop in later.”

“I hope so.” There was something in Morris’ voice that sounded irate, but he turned and walked away before Shane could respond. No skin off his nose, Shane thought. The less he discussed his personal life with Morris, the better, and anyway, he had enough on his plate with the rush of customers in the store, and helping Marnie ready her farm for the blizzard. Shane was looking at about a day left to prepare when he ended his shift, which had, naturally, turned out to be a surprise double thanks to the volume of customers they had to field. He was on his way out the door when Morris stopped him, his ghoulish smile maybe a bit less pronounced.

“Shane, I wanted to thank you for working overtime today.”

“Don’t mention it,” Shane said. He was tired and sore from being on his feet, and he really just wanted to go to the Stardrop and blow off some steam, but by the time he got there, it would be closing up anyway. He felt doubly bad, because he’d meant to meet the farmer there that night, as well.

“Unfortunately, we might have a bit of a problem.”

Nothing was ever easy. Shane suppressed an eye-roll. “What’s up?”

“Well, you’ve gone over your allotted hours for this week by working the double…”

“And?”

“Well, since we might be closed for the storm, I was just going to add the extra hours you worked today to your paycheck for next cycle, so you can make up the time.”

Shane did not appreciate how this was supposed to sound like a favor to him. “I’d rather collect the overtime for this pay period.”

“I know, but unfortunately, we already processed your hours before you worked the extra shift.”

“So I don’t get overtime.”

“I apologize for the oversight.”

“Okay.” Shane took a breath and tried to even himself out. “Well, I’m going to head home. I’ll be in tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Shane. And maybe we’ll see the farmer soon.”

Shane felt a stab of anger as he headed back to Marnie’s. “I apologize for the oversight” was really just an articulate “fuck you” to him. He needed that money. More accurately, Jas needed that money. Her school books weren’t cheap, and that was on top of the fact that he was still trying to make deposits into her college fund. And now he was going to try and blackmail him into making the farmer spend her money at the place? Morris knew damn well what he was doing, and it made Shane’s blood boil.

He stormed down the pathway to Marnie’s house, and received a bit of a shock when he saw the farmer standing under a street lamp, waiting patiently.

“What are you doing here?” Shane asked. “It’s midnight.”

“I wanted to see you.” She fell into step beside him. “Sorry Morris torpedoed our date.”

“I should be apologizing to you. I don’t want you to think I stood you up.”

“Don’t worry about that. Is everything okay? You seem more irate than usual when you get out of work.”

Shane sighed heavily. “Morris isn’t giving me overtime for the hours I worked today. I was kind of counting on that money for Jas’ college fund. I haven’t been putting in as much recently.”

“I’m sorry.” The farmer frowned. “Is it because we’ve been going out?”

“Nevermind that. It’s fine. It’s just frustrating, and he’s a dirtbag, but it’s not like I have any other place I could work.” That was at least half the story; Shane was damn well not going to let her know what else had transpired between him and Morris. They were now at Marnie’s front door, anyway.

“I’m sorry your boss is being so unfair to you. Listen, I wanted to ask you if you or Marnie wanted help getting her farm ready tomorrow before the storm hits.”

Had this conversation transpired earlier in the day, Shane might have found her usual helpfulness endearing. Right now, it was aggravating. “I think we’ll be fine. Look, if I don’t see you before the storm hits, stay safe, okay?”

“Okay.” They traded their usual end-of-the-night-kiss, and Shane went inside, still quietly seething. He knew he had to go to bed, but he was so angry he just laid under the covers for what felt like hours. Leave it to fucking Morris to sour his new relationship. What an asshole.

It felt like Shane hadn’t gotten any sleep at all when he rolled out of bed the next morning. Miserable, aching, and still angry at Morris, he stole through the kitchen, avoiding Marnie, and began the slog to work. The sky was so grey, it was almost black, and the air was angrily cold. He prayed he’d just be able to make it through the work day, and then hopefully spend the next few days snowed in, playing video games.

Shane had just passed Pierre’s when he heard his name, and turned to see the farmer booking it toward him. The smile on her face made him somehow feel ten times more exhausted. Despite his affection for her, he was not really in the mood to interact with anybody.

“Morning,” he yawned.

“Morning.” She looked well-rested. “Hey, look, after we talked last night, I remembered that I owe you this.” She held out an envelope, which Shane hesitantly took. When he opened it, he saw a consequential amount of money sitting inside. “I figured I’d give it to you before the storm hit.”

“What is this?” Shane asked, his voice flat.

“Well, you remember how you helped me with my animals the morning I was hungover? That’s your cut of the profits from that day.”

Shane furrowed his brow at the farmer. “I’m not interested in any money for that. I did that to help you because we’re dating.”

“I know, but I don’t want to collect the profit off somebody else’s work. Take it. It’s yours.”

Shane handed the envelope back. “I’m not interested.”

“Shane, please.”

“Is this because of what we talked about last night?” Shane asked, now irritated.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you got what I owed you.”

“Really? Because I’m aware of how much you make off your harvests, and this looks like obviously more than a fraction of your daily profit.”

The farmer bit her lip, and Shane knew he’d caught her in a lie. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I felt bad that Morris stiffed you on your paycheck and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m not a charity case,” Shane snapped.

“I was just trying to help.”

“You could have asked if I needed any first! I don’t need your help to get by! What, did you include reimbursements in here for every time I paid when we went out?” Shane looked at the farmer, who was now looking at her shoes, her face red. “You did. Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“What? You felt bad? How much of the past month was just because you felt bad for me? Were you just cooking me dinner because you were afraid I’d go hungry?”

“Shane, for goodness’ sake!” The farmer snapped back, and Shane suddenly saw that wildness in her eyes again. “You can’t constantly talk about being stuck in a dead-end job that you hate, and not expect me to worry! What, was I just supposed to sit by—”

“Yes!” He shot back. “Yes, you were! I don’t care how much money you make; you are not my keeper. I was doing fine on my own before you came to town, you know. I thought we were in this together, as equals.”

“We are,” the farmer pleaded.

“Then act like it,” Shane snapped. “I have to get to work.”

“Okay.” The fire had gone out of the farmer’s eyes. “Get home safe tonight.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Shane shook his head, and walked away, indignant and angry and wholly exhausted. Somewhere, some part of his mind told him to look back at her. He resisted the urge.

Chapter Text

Shane had forgotten how well he could run on righteous indignation; he was energized for almost half the day, ruminating over how insulting and degraded he felt by his exchange with the farmer. Morris, he could handle; Morris exuded the natural charisma of a bunch of bugs wearing a human skin suit. But the farmer had cut him deep, and he felt a genuine sense of betrayal at what had transpired between them. Shane would have never described himself as “proud,” but seeing the farmer offer him money, as if he couldn’t provide for Jas on his own, had caused some long-forgotten sense of self-worth to flare up. How dare she? How dare she presume to give him money that he hadn’t asked for? It wasn’t just that she was his girlfriend; she was his friend.

Then, something odd happened. The hurt remained, but it was gradually replaced by a sense of regret at how he’d reacted. The farmer hadn’t meant to humiliate him, and no matter how misguided she had been, her intentions had, at heart, been good. Shane began to wonder if perhaps he’d been in the right in their earlier exchange, but had been in the right in the entirely wrong way. Of course she shouldn’t have done that, but, perhaps (and it pained him to admit this to himself), he could have reacted with a bit more finesse. He slowly realized that no matter how slighted he felt, it wasn’t worth losing her over.

“I’m an idiot,” he said aloud to no one, and thunked his head against the shelf he’d been stocking. Outside, the snow was falling in thick wet flakes.

Sometimes, though, Shane’s luck won out. Early in the afternoon, Morris tapped Shane on the shoulder. “We’re closing early,” he said. “The blizzard’s scheduled to hit us earlier than we thought. You’d better get home.”

Shane was stunned. “Really?”

“Yes.” Morris did not look happy, and Shane wondered if he’d received a call from corporate. “Keep your phone on tomorrow, and I’ll let you know if you have to come in or not.”

Outside, the snow was already piling up on tree branches and sticking to the ground. Shane knew he had to get to Marnie’s, but first, he needed to take care of something. He detoured to Pierre’s shop and breathed a sigh of relief when he found the door unlocked.

“Shane!” Pierre straightened up when he saw the other man walk inside. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” Shane said, wiping the snow off his shoulders. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at being there; he knew Joja had probably taken all of the business Pierre would have otherwise gotten from the storm. “I’m glad you’re open.”

“Well, of course we’re open for all your last-minute needs,” Pierre said graciously as Shane approached the counter. “What’ll it be? Batteries? Milk and bread? Water?”

“I need flowers,” Shane said miserably.

Pierre looked at Shane like he was covered in lobsters. “I’m sorry?”

“I need to buy a bouquet. It’s an emergency.”

“Oh,” Pierre said, as if he suddenly understood. “It’s that kind of emergency.”

“Look, are you going to sell me a bouquet or not?”

“Sure, sure. No trouble at all.” Pierre walked over to a large glass refrigeration unit, and, after a moment’s deliberation, pulled one of the brighter and larger bouquets from it. “This ought to do it,” he said, handing the flowers to Shane. “She likes tigerlillies,” he added in a more conspiratorial tone.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Shane pulled out his wallet and handed Pierre his money. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“No trouble at all, my friend,” Pierre smiled, before shouting, “good luck!” after Shane as he left.

The wind was only getting worse as Shane made his way to the farmer’s house, the bouquet zipped up inside his hoodie as far as it would fit. He looked outlandish, a crest of flowers poking out of the top of his hoodie like decorative chest hair, but he was fairly sure nobody else was stupid enough to be outside anyway, so that was a small comfort. His nose and ears were achingly cold by the time he made it to the farmer’s little home and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, so he knocked again. The chimney was puffing smoke, so he knew she had to be home. There was still no answer, so he knocked again, the wind howling around his bare legs. And again, there was no answer. Oh, he really had screwed the pooch this time. She must have been furious. But he didn’t walk all that way for nothing, so he screwed up whatever eloquence he had left and started talking.

“Look,” he said, resting his forearm against the door, “I know you’re mad at me, and that’s fair. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’ve had a bad couple of days, and I took it out on you. But I don’t want to lose you over something like this, okay? Can you hear me?” He shouted over the wind. “I’m sorry, and I got you flowers and I have no idea what to do with them now!”

“Shane?”

Shane, horror-struck, turned his head to the left and saw the farmer standing there with a basket of eggs. “How long have you been standing there?” He asked.

“Like, a minute.”

“So you…?”

“Yeah.” She walked up the stairs. Now that she was closer, Shane could see that her eyes looked red and puffy, and his heart sank. “Do you want to talk inside?”

“That would be nice.”

The farmer’s home was warm and still, lit by a fire that was merrily crackling next to her bed. In hindsight, it made sense to Shane that she’d light a fire and let the house warm up while she finished her chores. The farmer set the eggs down on her counter, and turned back to face Shane. “I guess I owe you an apology,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “You were right. I shouldn’t have done what I did. You didn’t ask me for help, and I shouldn’t have decided you needed it. I didn’t see how that could come off to you, and I’m sorry. I really am. I know you can take care of Jas on your own.”

“I was going to apologize for reacting the way I did,” Shane said. “I had a rough couple of days, and I was tired.” Shane held out the bouquet to her. “I could have handled it better, and I’m sorry. It’s not worth losing you over.”

The farmer smiled and took the bouquet. “How’d you know I like tigerlillies?” She asked.

“...Lucky guess.”

“Were you actually worried I’d break up with you?” She asked, going to the sink and filling a vase with water.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I’ve been dumped for less.”

The farmer gently arranged the flowers in the vase, bringing the tigerlillies to the front, and smiling as she touched them. “Shane,” she said gently, turning back toward him, “it was our first fight. That’s it. Every relationship has one. And if we’re being honest, I was waiting for this to happen.”

“You were?”

“Of course. I mean, I love you, but you can be an ass sometimes.”

Shane’s breath froze in his chest. “What did you say?”

“You know. I love you, but you can be—” The farmer’s voice fell away as she realized. “I love you,” she repeated, after a moment’s pause. The sound of ice pelting the window outside seemed to quiet.

“You love me,” Shane repeated.

“Yes. I mean, I was going to tell you, but probably not like this,” the farmer began, reddening. “I meant to tell you, but I know you wanted to move slow, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable and I—” And right there, in the farmer’s kitchen, as the farmer was still blabbering, Shane marched over and kissed her. And not like the chaste kisses that the two had been sharing thus far; this was a full-on kiss, one arm around her waist, and one cupping the side of her face. It took her all of half a second to return it, her fingers once again brushing through his hair.

“Let me stay,” Shane said softly.

The farmer kissed him again. How much she had been holding back so far became apparent to Shane in a hurry. Her tongue flicked into his mouth and he felt her nip at his bottom lip, and, holy shit he was hard and just about every synapse in the lizard portion of his brain was telling him to get his ass to the nearest horizontal surface and seal the fucking deal already. Considering that they were both attached at the face, the trip to the bed went about as well as it could have. They tumbled backward onto the mattress, and the farmer let out a shriek of laughter as Shane rolled on top of her, their fingers interlaced.

“You’re sure?” She asked, looking up at him, her expression suddenly serious.

“I’m sure.” Shane kissed her again and began moving down her neck, his hands snaking up under her shirt, and he felt a sudden jolt of pleasure as she arched up against his groin so he could undo her bra. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her pants as Shane urgently pulled her clothes off, and suddenly, there she was, naked beneath him. Shane stopped and sat back for a moment, just looking, still somehow unbelieving that this really was happening.

“You’re overdressed,” the farmer said softly.

Shane conceded the point and pulled off his shirt, the farmer already rubbing his erection through his shorts. He couldn’t help but lean into it. It had been so long since anyone had touched him, and it had been impossible for him to forget how good she’d been at it. He bent to kiss her, still straddling her, as she persistently edged his shorts and boxers down until he gave up and removed them entirely. She felt unbelievably soft against his bare skin. Gently, he pulled her legs apart and guided them around his waist, eliciting a soft gasp from her when his fingers brushed against her inner thigh and traced upwards, resting right in the middle.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said gently, and slipped his middle finger deeper between her legs, rubbing just barely against her clit. The farmer gasped sharply, and Shane was pleased to see that she was already very wet.

“Keep going,” she managed, biting her bottom lip, and promptly gasped again when he slipped his finger inside of her. After a moment, he withdrew it and began tracing lazy circles around her clit, watching her arch her hips in time and squirm. After a few moments of watching her writhing around, he withdrew his hand and dropped to his stomach, kissing his way up her thigh.

“Be patient, okay?” He said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done this.” And then, he ran his tongue up the length of her, slowly, lingering over her opening for just a second before focusing his attention on her clit. “Ith thith okay?” He asked after a second.

“Go,” the farmer answered, her fingers in his hair, her voice suddenly rough and directive.

As the farmer moaned and arched, he gently slid two fingers into her and curled them upward, and he felt her thighs tense around his head. That was all the encouragement he needed, and he started moving his tongue in short, strong strokes in rhythm with the movement of his fingers, occasionally breaking the tempo to suck gently. From his vantage point, he could see her hands grasping desperately at the sheets, her voice staccato and breathy.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpered, her hands now fumbling for, something, anything, to grab onto, and he felt her arch and it felt like her entire body clenched around his fingers as she climaxed, and he kept going until she finally tapped his shoulder urgently, and then he relented. She was still recovering, her eyes closed, when he crawled next to her.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” She asked, breathing heavy.

“I said it’s been awhile, not that I’d never done it before.” Shane glanced at his hand, and then looked around the room. “Would it kill the mood if I asked you where the tissues are?”

In response, the farmer groped on her side of the bed and set the box down between them. Shane took a moment to wipe his mouth, and then let the farmer cuddle against him, her breathing finally normal. They spent the next few moments quietly, the storm howling outside, and Shane felt his erection twinge again as if to remind him that he still had unfinished business. In fact, as soon as that happened, the farmer sat up and then swung a leg over Shane’s midsection, a little smile on her face.

“My turn.”

She cupped his erection in one hand and then began grinding on it, dragging herself up and down his entire length slowly. She was soft and hot and holy shit she was still wet, teasing him by guiding the head of his cock to her entrance and then moving away as soon as he thrust his hips, still smirking. He sat up, and with a bit of minor adjustments from both parties, he was able to wrap his arms around her waist. “You’re sure you want to do this?” He asked softly, their mouths a hair’s width apart.

Then, all at once, she slid down on him, and suddenly he was inside her and he gasped. It genuinely took him a few seconds to gather his wits, because he brain had a hard reboot. The farmer hadn’t moved; she was still flush against him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her eyes half-lidded She lifted herself up, bracing herself against his shoulders, and then lowered herself down on him again, and then again, and again, whimpering every time she did so.

It felt so good that Shane was worried he’d come too quickly; as a result of her orgasm earlier, she was incredibly tight and wet, and it had been so long, and it felt so good, and he buried his face in her hair as she continued riding him. After a while, he couldn’t help it; he fell onto his back and pulled her down with him, thrusting up into her again, one hand grabbing her ass and the other one tangled in her hair. Every time he pushed into her, she’d moan again and occasionally nip his earlobe or kiss his neck. Shane could feel himself inching closer and closer to climax every time.

“Hang on.” He managed to contain himself long enough to roll them over and pull the farmer’s legs around his waist. She looked up at him, her hands on his thighs, her skin cool in the winter light outside. Shane let himself be caught in that moment briefly, but then, instinct called, and he pushed into her again and she arched her hips up, and he could feel her pulling his cock from the inside. If it was a race to orgasm, he was at a dead sprint now, thrusting hard and fast, and his breath hitched in his chest just before he pulled out and climaxed on her stomach. He bent double over her, hit with wave after wave of it, until finally, it subsided, and he collapsed beside her, breathing hard. He felt her stir, and heard her pull a couple tissues out of the box.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I should have asked about that earlier.”

The farmer leaned over and kissed him on the side of the head. “'S'okay. Beats the alternative.”

“I guess that’s true.” He felt her curl up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. “Was that good?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady and gentle.

“Hey,” Shane said, gently brushing a lock of hair out of the farmer’s face. He could see the little scar on her temple from where she’d been injured two summers ago.

“What?” She asked, already half asleep.

“I love you, too.”

“I know,” she replied, a little smirk on her face.

Chapter Text

Shane awoke gradually, to the howling of the wind and something lower buzzing in his ear. He stayed in limbo like that for a while, his mind at the threshold of sleep and waking, until something clicked in his brain and he realized that his phone was ringing. Tired, but with a sense of purpose, he groped for his phone, and answered it.

“Hello?” He sounded as groggy as he felt.

“Hello, Shane.” Morris’ voice was the last thing Shane wanted to hear when he was lying naked in bed in the morning, and yet, there it was. Shane withered. “How are you?”

“Okay?” Shane could barely open his eyes. “Morris, what’s going on?”

“Well, I understand there’s a storm…” Oh, no. “But our deliveryman arrived last night, and we have some things that need stocking.”

“Morris, I’m sorry, but I can’t come in. There’s a blizzard. The roads are frozen over.”

“I understand, but Shane, you don’t drive.”

“Nothing is shoveled.” Shane didn’t know this for sure, but he also knew that Pelican Town’s public works department… well, it didn’t exist, and shoveling out was more of a communal effort. Nobody was out clearing the roads now. “Morris, I can’t make it over there. Anyway, I have to help my aunt dig out.”

“I’m disappointed to hear that.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t go out there. Call me tomorrow and give me an update, okay?”

“Sure. Goodbye.”

Shane hung up, tossed his phone aside, and screwed his eyes shut. As if things weren’t bad enough, Morris was now probably pissed at him, and he had to dig out, and then an arm suddenly snaked over his waist and he felt another person’s breath against the back of his neck and he remembered exactly where he was and who he was next to.

“Morning,” he murmured, running a hand down the farmer’s forearm and lingering at her fingers.

“That Morris?” The farmer asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah.” Outside, the snowstorm had caught the morning light and diffused it, making things brighter than they ought to be. “Wants me to come in.”

“You said no.”

“Yeah.” Already, Shane could feel the edge in his voice; where the hell did Morris get off, calling him this early in the morning during a blizzard? “I guess because I work for him, he thinks he owns me or something.”

The farmer’s breathing was still slow and heavy. “You going to let it ruin your morning?”

Shane sighed, and rolled onto his back. “I guess I shouldn’t.”

The farmer murmured an agreement and did her usual thing of hauling herself onto his chest and resting there, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin. In that moment, Shane felt something he hadn’t in awhile: peace. “Was last night good?” The farmer asked.

“It was good.” Shane brushed her hair from her face and his fingers lingered there, resting on the nape of her neck. “Worth the wait.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.” But in spite of the calm that ought to have surrounded him, his mind began nagging, pulling at things it felt deserved his attention. “Are you going to have to feed your animals?”

“Auto feeders.” The farmer’s voice was smug. “Got them installed a couple months ago.”

“The dog?”

“In the barn, where she should be. You’re fretting.”

“I am.”

“Fret when we’re digging out. Let yourself have this.”

“I should have called Marnie last night.”

“I’m sure she figured it out.”

Shane sighed, breathed in, and tried to keep his thoughts where they should be. ”I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I mean it, I’m sorry.” Shane caught her gaze, her eyes still half-lidded and sleepy. “I just had the best night of my life, you’re in bed next to me, and I’m worrying again.”

“I mean it, it’s okay,” the farmer retorted, and then propped herself on her elbows so she could look at him. “I like you. That’s part of why I like you.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t be the same person if that part of you was missing.” She shrugged. “I like all of you. Even the parts that can be tough.”

Shane sighed and looked up at her, and then brushed her hair from her face, his thoughts suddenly filled with nothing but affection. “You have morning breath.”

The farmer rolled her eyes and collapsed downward, sighing as she did so. “You’re the worst.”

“I know.” Shane motioned to run his fingers through her hair again, but she had rolled off of him, her lips curled into a smile. She ran the backs of her fingers over his cheek, the stubble grating beneath them.

“It’s still early. Go back to sleep.”

That sounded like as good an idea as any to Shane, who grunted his assent, and then, too quickly, drifted off to sleep.

This time, Shane awoke in ebbs and flows, lingering in the liminality between sleep and waking. When he woke, the sun shone brighter, like it was actually morning. The wind had quieted.

“Morning,” the farmer said, her eyes still closed.

“Morning,” he replied. Her hair was in his face again. “Is the storm over?”

“Sounds like it.” She exhaled, and then rolled onto her back. “It feels late.”

“Maybe. It is…” Shane looked over at the bedside clock. “Seven-thirty?”

“Wow, we slept in.” He felt the farmer stretch. “What time did Morris call?”

Shane flipped his phone open, and, bleary-eyed, checked the call log. Even half-asleep, he found it hard to believe. “Five forty-five.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.” Shane tossed the phone aside. “Unbelievable. I’m not even up at five forty-five on regular days.”

“Your boss sounds like a regular jerk.” The farmer rolled over and propped her head onto his chest. “So, you hungry,or what?”

Shane had never believed he was good at cooking. That was because it turned out to be true: he was actually no good at cooking. He turned the heat up too high too fast, got shells in the eggs, and the farmer managed to rescue them in time, but not before the toast (which he’d been watching) started burning. In the end, the toast was what he’d call “deep brunette” in coloration, and the eggs weren’t too far off from that either. The farmer, somehow, ate all of it with no complaint, which was another piece of farmer-related phenomenon that was outside of Shane’s realm of comprehension.

Finally, when the dishes were washed and the morning felt as if it had officially started, the farmer pulled the curtains back to reveal… snow. Just snow. The wind had been so fierce, the windows were fully covered. After several minutes of concerted pushing, they managed to push the front door open to a drift of snow at least four feet high. Shane immediately slammed the door shut. There was no way he was getting out of the house before spring, so he might as well figure out how to ask the farmer if she was ready to start living together.

The farmer, coincidentally, looked elated.

“We’re snowed in,” Shane said, trying to emphasize the gravity of the situation. Snowed in! They were going to have to fill out new W-2’s if they were cohabitating!

“I know!” The farmer dashed over to her closet, rifled through it, and then pulled out a gigantic pair of overalls. Shane recognized them, because Marnie had a pair not unlike those; they were the thick brown types you could get from feed stores, heavily insulated, with a waterproofed canvas outer shell. It should not have surprised Shane that she had those. “Look! I treated myself to these when moved here. I was worried I’d never have a chance to wear them, but now, I do!” She stepped into them and began layering on sweaters and gloves. “I’m going to take a look outside.”

“You’ll freeze!”

“I’m fine!” She was now so bundled up, she looked cylindrical. “Stay in here. Stay warm.”

Shane watched her shoulder the door open, let out a whoop as the cold air hit her, and then the door abruptly slammed shut. Shane went to look out the window again, but the snow had not miraculously cleared itself. Suddenly shut in the farmer’s house with no farmer there to chaperone him, he felt awkward. After a moment of standing around, he went to one of the farmer’s bookshelves and searched for something. And there it was, seven titles from the left on the top shelf: Regis’ Illustrated Guide to Raising Fancy Hens, 3rd Edition. Shane felt a little jump of excitement, pulled the book from the shelf, and went back into bed to read.

He was there for quite some time, genuinely enraptured in Regis’ wise words on fancy hens, and was fairly deep into the chapter on proper coop construction and maintenance when the front door was booted in. The farmer waddled inside, covered head-to-toe in ice and snow. When she looked at Shane, he saw that her face was beet red and her nose was running like a faucet.

“Cold out!” She announced.

“How bad is the snow?” Shane asked, setting the book down.

“Pretty deep,” the farmer replied, diligently shedding her winter carapace and picking her way out of the clumps of snow and ice on the floor. “Up to my waist in some areas. Less in others.” She slid under the covers beside Shane, and immediately put her feet on his thighs. It felt like someone had touched him with a branding iron.

“Fuck!” Shane squirmed away from her and threw the blankets over her head while she howled with laughter. “What is wrong with you?!”

“They’re cold,” she explained, still laughing under the covers. Shane pulled away from her in frustration, looked down at her, and suddenly felt his mood soften. In the bright morning light, he could see old and new scrapes and bruises on her skin. He reached out, and laid a hand on her thigh, over a yellowing bruise the size of a softball. “Where’d you get this?”

“One of the cows pushed me into the grain dispensary.”

“What about this one?” His fingers brushed against a purpling blotch on her calf.

“Accidentally got my leg caught in between two fence posts.”

His fingers rested again on her abdomen. “What about this one?”

“Tripped over a hen and fell into a mayo machine.” The farmer was looking up at him, bemused. “Not what you expected?”

“Well, I wondered—”

“If they came from the mines?”

“...Yeah.”

The farmer smiled. “I’ve got a lot more scrapes from farm work than the mines.”

“I’ve also seen what can happen down there.” Shane frowned. “I don’t know if I can carry you back to Harvey’s again. You’re heavy.”

“You’re a real romantic, you know that?”

“I mean it. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I don’t need to promise you I’ll be careful. I’m already careful.” The farmer sighed. “That came out wrong. I know you worry. I watch myself down there, though. I promise you. I’ve got a lot I want to come back to.”

“I know. It’s just… I don’t want to worry about losing anything else. Anyone else.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not going to lose me. That’s a promise.” The farmer sat up and kissed him, tracing her fingers over his groin. “Now get under these covers with me.”

Shane may have had doubts, anxieties, and a real desire for a drink, but he was also a man of fairly simple needs. The wind was quiet, the fire was still going, and the farmer was just as warm and soft as he remembered from the night before. As he tugged her panties off, his thoughts quieted.

Chapter Text

Morning faded into early afternoon like melting snow, with Shane and the farmer intermittently naked and embracing, or dozing in the warmth of the fire. Shane would have happily basked in the peacefulness of the afternoon, but, again, something was nipping at the edge of his mind.

“Hey,” Shane said, gently resting a hand on the farmer’s shoulder. “Are we snowed in?”

“Do you want to be?” The farmer asked, raising her eyebrows and edging toward him.

Shane sighed. “It’s not that I don’t. It’s just that Marnie is home with Jas, and…”

“It’s okay.” The farmer smiled. “They’re your family. You need to get home.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” the farmer said, sitting up and stretching, “I don’t have a plow horse, but I do have Millie.”

“Who’s Millie?”

“The biggest cow in the barn.” The farmer stood, stretched again, and began foraging for her clothes. “Hold on a tic, and I’ll show you.” She zipped herself into her winter layers and vanished out the front door again, leaving Shane sitting just as awkwardly as he had earlier. After perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, he heard a knock at the window. The farmer was standing there, along with a cow who’d been harnessed into some sort of angled contraption.

“What the hell is that?” Shane asked, poking his head out the door.

“Robin helped me rig this up a few seasons ago. It’s a plow!” The farmer patted Millie on the shoulder. “And my favorite draft cow.”

“You don’t have a horse?”

“I haven’t got enough hardwood to build the stable. Do you want to get home, or not?”

“And she’s going to do that how, exactly?”

“We’re going to plow through all of that snow ourselves.” The farmer tugged on Millie’s lead. “Come on and get dressed.”

By the time Shane got outside, the farmer had managed to plow back to the cornfields, and he had to struggle through the upturned earth and packed snow to catch up. Millie was happily fording through the snow, and the farmer was shouting words of encouragement to her. She looked back at him, bundled up and ruddy, and smiled.

“Shane, can I ask you a question?” She said as the two made their way further south.

“Sure.”

“Do you own anything other than shorts?”

“I don’t need anything other than shorts.”

“Shane, we’re plowing a path from my house to your aunt’s after a blizzard.”

“And I’m fine.”

Even though the storm had died down, the necessary work of cutting through the built up snow and ice was hard going, and it was well into the afternoon by the time Millie plodded past the fencepost at Marnie’s. Marnie and Jas were well into their own cleanup process, and although she was huffing and puffing, there was no mistaking how smug she looked when she saw Shane. Jas was chest-deep in the stuff, but started to wade over to her cousin in a hurry.

“I was beginning to think you’d froze out there!” Marnie greeted them. “And, my goodness, what have you got hooked up to your cow?”

“I got Robin to make me a plow.” The farmer scratched Millie behind the ears. “This was my first chance to use it, but I can’t argue with the results. Of course, if I want to tell Robin about it, I’m going to need to plow a path to their house.”

“Millie!” Jas, bundled up in a parka, wrapped her arms around the cow’s head. Millie mooed contentedly.

“Say,” Marnie continued, wiping her forehead, “if you’d be willing to stick around, I’d like to run inside and get Lewis so I can show him. He might be interested in something that can help plow the roads.”

“Oh,” Shane replied, raising his eyebrows, “is he here?” Marnie shot him a look.

“No problem,” the farmer replied, glancing down at Jas, who was stroking Millie’s nose with gentle reverence. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Actually,” Marnie said, “I’ve got a big pot of stew going inside. Why don’t you stable the cow and stay for dinner?”

“I’d hate to impose,” the farmer said, suddenly shy.

“You’re not imposing! We’ve got so much food anyway, we need all the folks around the table we can get. And this way, you can tell Lewis over a good cup of tea. Or wine, if you’d prefer. Jas, will you go in and tell Lewis we’re having another person over for dinner? And Shane, why don’t you go inside and help Jas set up? Us girls will handle the livestock.”

This caused an uncomfortable jolt of panic in Shane, who suddenly realized that his girlfriend was now going to break bread with his family (and Lewis). But Marnie’s house smelled so good, warm with the scent of stewing meat and baking bread, and his stomach growled so loudly that he would never get away with saying “no.”

“Jas!” Lewis was at work in the kitchen, checking on the oven, and Shane felt his hackles raise. Why did it have to be him?

“Hi, Lewis.” Jas began pulling silverware out of the drawers. “Marnie wants you to know that the farmer’s coming over for dinner, too.”

“That’s lovely!” Lewis turned around and saw Shane, and a wave of something uncomfortable passed through the room. “Say, why don’t you go set the table? Shane and I will bring out the food in a bit.”

Shane wanted to snap at him not to order Jas around, but his cousin seemed to sense something was up by the way she looked at Shane as she left with a stack of bowls.

“You took my advice,” Lewis said after a moment, smiling. “I’m happy for you.”

Shane tensed. He hadn’t really expected this conversation to start with Lewis being nice to him, which made him angry in its own way. “I would have done it anyway,” he managed.

“Even so, congratulations. We’re all happy for you—”

“What’s going on with you and Marnie?” Shane blurted out.

Lewis winced. “Well, I suppose you have a right to ask. Marnie and I are… Well, we’re good friends, and she needs some companionship—”

“Oh gross, don’t say it like that.”

“Shane, when you get older, your relationships with people change. Marnie and I are both happy with where we’re at right now.”

“Does Jas know?”

Lewis sighed. “Shane, I know you’re protective of her. I promise you, I’m not trying to take over here.”

“Because she’s been through enough,” Shane added.

“Shane.” Lewis held up his hands. “I understand you have reservations, but if you don’t trust me, trust Marnie. You’re not the only one looking out for Jas, okay? And I like to think I’ve been very respectful.”

“Hey!” Shane heard the farmer shout as the front door opened. “Marnie wants to know if supper’s done!”

“Come on and help me get this to the table,” Lewis said. “And Shane, we really are happy for you, Marnie and I.”

So they sat: Shane, the farmer, Marnie, Jas, and a somewhat sheepish Lewis, all around the dinner table, conversing about the storm and the town, the farmer stuffing her face with bread and stew like some kind of animal, her enthusiasm over her farm too great to wait until she’d chewed and swallowed. Marnie seemed happy to let the farmer describe her hens, the dog, and the new plow. Shane, for his part, had reached an unspoken agreement with Lewis: Shane wouldn’t say anything, and neither would Lewis. Shane did, however, help himself to what was probably more wine than he was entitled to. He couldn’t help it: he was pissed, although it was for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate.

Dinner wound on and on, and by the time things had wrapped up, the sky had gotten black as pitch, and the wind was howling outside. As the farmer began piling her overalls back on, and Shane made himself busy clearing the table, he was sharply elbowed in the side. Annoyed, he looked at Marnie, who was heaping stew into a container beside him.

“Don’t make her walk back,” Marnie whispered.

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, slightly drunk.

“Ask her to stay the night. It’s frigid out there.”

“Is that okay?”

“Shane, you’re an adult.” And with that, Marnie shoved him out to the front door, where the farmer was now trying to get her boots on.

“Hi.” She smiled up at him. “Would you thank Marnie for dinner for me?”

“I wanted to know if you want to stay,” Shane blurted out. “You know. Stay over.”

“Here?” She straightened up. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. I mean, we’re fine with it. It beats walking back in the cold. Your cow’s stabled, anyway. I mean, if you want.”

The farmer had a little half-smile. “You know, I’ve never seen your room?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Sure.”

Having spent so much time in the farmer’s home, Shane’s room, with its lonely twin bed, now felt small and unassuming to him. As the farmer crept in and took a good look around, he felt automatically defensive. Finally, her eyes settled on the picture of a chicken hanging on Shane’s wall. “That came with the room,” Shane lied. The farmer’s eyes continued darting around, and they then fell on the large collection of beer bottles in his closet. “Emergency stash,” Shane explained hastily.

“All of it?” The farmer asked, stooping to get a better look. “Hell, I had no idea you had this much of the stuff on hand.”

“Well, it… That used to help. With, you know, everything.”

“Used to?”

“I never told you this, but I went on a pretty big bender last year, after the community center.” Shane sat down heavily on his bed. “I actually never planned on telling you, but I guess now’s as good a time as any. It was how I dealt.”

“I’m sorry.” The farmer sat down beside him. “That wasn’t one of my brighter ideas. Do you still… you know... ”

“Not as frequently. Not that the urge isn’t there, it’s just… Jas, you know?”

“Yeah.” The farmer smiled softly, and then did him the kindness of changing the subject. “You know, back when you were first blowing me off, I was wondering what a person like you might have for a room.”

“What about later?”

“Later, I was more concerned about getting you back to my room.”

“Marnie can probably hear us,” Shane hissed.

The farmer chuckled and settled down on Shane’s bed. “So, are you going to join me? Or will you be a gentleman and take the couch in the living room?”

“I wasn’t thinking we’d turn in just yet.” Shane sat down beside her and watched her bite her lower lip and look up at him.

“What’d you have in mind?” She asked, leaning closer.

Shane flicked his eyes down to the game console in front of his TV and watched her expression change to bafflement. “Well, come on,” he explained, scooting onto the floor. “We have to keep this PG.”

“I can’t believe this,” the farmer muttered, sitting on the carpet beside him. “Okay. What are we playing?”

“You ever hear of Wonder Studios vs Bottlecap? Super old cross-property fighting game. This is the sequel.”

“I was more into animals and stuff growing up.”

“Well, here.” Shane passed her a controller. “I’ll try to go easy on you until you get the hang of it.”

The farmer looked up at him, suspicious. “This thing doesn’t have any cheat codes on it, does it?”

“...Of course not.”

Shane didn’t actually need cheat codes; the farmer was legitimately terrible at the game. But she was at least a good sport about it. By the end of the night she’d won only one round and had whooped so excitedly when that happened that Shane had to clamp a hand over her mouth. She giggled her way into the bathroom to brush her teeth, as if they were doing something illicit, just by being there. She settled down after he turned the lights out, the two of them sandwiched together in his small bed, which Shane suddenly hoped didn’t smell too much like sweat or beer.

“Shane?” The farmer asked in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being honest with me.”

Shane wanted to protest this, to tell her that he hadn’t really wanted to ever tell her, and even then, he’d never tell her about how Marnie had had to wake him up more than once, panic laced in her voice as she shook him awake, probably worried about burying another family member. But he didn’t say anything. The night was still outside, dark and cold, and the farmer was warm and smelled like pine and earth. So he said what he could, and whispered, “Thanks for giving me a chance anyway.” She squeezed his hand in response, and the two were asleep shortly thereafter.

Chapter Text

Spring came along cool and damp, with days that often started and ended with a fog hanging over the earth. Against the grays and the rain, the earth seemed to burst into life, suddenly verdant and lush. The farmer invested in rabbits, and Pierre debuted new seeds at the shop. Despite Morris’s best efforts, Shane was happy. The farmer’s home began to fit him more and more, and he felt less and less like a guest there as time went on.

There was only one occurrence where the reality of the farmer’s world—the world where monsters lurked in the mines and spirits helped her rebuild buildings—reached out and slapped him across the face. He had been sleeping beside her in early spring when she suddenly sat bolt upright, her eyes wild and her skin wet from sweat. Shane, after recovering from being scared half to death, sat up and roped and arm around her bare shoulders. She was shaking.

“What happened?” He asked, the firelight swimming on the wall opposite them.

“Nothing,” she said, her breathing quieting. “Just a bad dream.”

“How bad?”

“I dreamt my grandpa was here.” She wormed her way back under the covers, her expression still pale. “He told me he was disappointed.”

“The guy who used to live here?”

“Yeah.” She laid her head on his chest.

“How could he be disappointed? This place was a dump before you moved here.”

“Yeah. I guess.” She sighed, and rolled over, her back to him. “Go back to sleep.”

It was only a bad dream, Shane told himself, and he fell back to sleep fairly quickly. But on his way to work the next morning, Shane’s eye was caught by a change in the landscape. It took him a moment, but when he did finally recognize it, a chill ran up his spine.

Two candles in the shrine at the far side of the farm had been lit. There, in the early morning fog, he saw them flicker, their light soft and eerie.

No, he thought. No, no, no. Lacking an easy rational explanation for the candles, Shane decided that he’d simply forget he’d ever seen them, and went to work.

Marnie, again, sprang into Overtime Mode ahead of the Egg Festival, and Shane, again, was press ganged into helping out with collecting and decorating them. Not that he minded; he preferred this over any day in Joja Mart, and it gave him time with Jas. She had made herself the unofficial inspector general of chickens, and she took her charge very seriously.

“I think Mildred is sick,” she said to Shane in a voice so adult, it gave him pause for half a second. “She hasn’t laid any eggs in two days!”

“Well, sometimes you have to be patient,” Shane explained, collecting the daily yield from another nest. “Give her time and love, and she’ll go back to normal.” He approached Mildred, a fat brown hen who was brooding in her nest, and gently stroked her feathers. Mildred cooed in response.

“Are we gonna have enough eggs?”

“We’ll be fine. Why don’t you let me worry about the eggs, anyhow? Go inside and start decorating.”

Jas, who wasn’t going to let her managerial position over the eggs stifle her excitement over the festival, scurried inside. Shane went to find Marnie, who was finishing up milking the cows. She smiled when she saw him. “It’s good of you to help prepare for the egg festival.”

“What else would I be doing?” Shane asked, scratching one of the cow’s muzzles.

“Well, you know… you have other obligations now. Important things to worry about.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “I still live here, Marnie. You and Jas are still my family. I’m not going to forget you.”

Marnie smiled. “You’ve changed, Shane.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t say it like it’s a bad thing.” Marnie hefted the milking pail to the side and guided the cow back to her stall. “But I’ve seen a difference in you since last autumn. You stand up straighter. You drink less.”

“I… guess?”

“I’m just saying that I’m happy for you. I know that what happened to Jas’ parents was hard on you. I worried, you know. But I know that some men have rockier soil in their hearts than others, and you weren’t going to talk to us about it. My point is, I think they’d be happy to see you where you are today. They wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life drinking the hurt away. And I think they’d like the farmer.”

“Marnie, this isn’t just because of her.”

“I know, I know. You changed yourself. And I’m proud of you.” Marnie’s expression was warm. “You can’t spend the rest of your life either working or sleeping in a room at your aunt’s house. You need more. And anyway, we have a lovely family here. We have plenty of room in our hearts for a fourth person.”

“Marnie.”

“I know, I know. I’m not trying to rush you. I’m just saying.” Marnie wiped her hands. “If you ever decide you’re ready.”

“I’m going to go help Jas with the eggs,” Shane replied, suddenly anxious. “I’ll see you inside.”

In spite of the rain and fog, the Egg Festival was warm and sunny, the way it was every year. Shane was pleased to see that Jas had honed for egg-reconnaissance skills, and was off like a shot as soon as the whistle was blown for the egg hunt. Shane, many year later, would still be able to recall the exact expression on her face when she was announced the winner.

“I want you to have this,” she said, approaching Abigail, and she handed the young woman her fancy new prize: a straw hat, much the same as the year prior. Abigail guffawed loudly and put it on immediately, her face alight. Shane felt a distinct note of pride for the sportsmanship Jas displayed in giving the hat away. Plus, he already had one woman in his life who liked ridiculous hats; he didn’t need two.

It also bears mentioning that the punch that year was better than the last two.

Shane’s birthday was, mercifully, low-key; he, Jas, Marnie, and the farmer all gathered around Marnie’s little farm table for cake, and Shane caught the farmer staring at him, love plainly evident on her face. He also caught Marnie staring, although her expression was far more sly.

Spring moved along in a way that was somehow too fast and too slow. The time meandered in Joja Mart, and happily sped up as soon as Shane left to see how the farmer was coming along in her planting and harvesting. Before he even knew it, the flower dance had arrived, and with it came another wave of gossip. Not about him and the farmer though; the new hot topic was Sam and Penny, who had been shyly circling one another for the past few weeks.

“I guess we’re old news,” the farmer remarked at the dance as Sam and Penny twirled around each other, her bright red hair woven into a crown of flowers. Everyone was staring at them, with a few knowing whispers being exchanged amongst the adults.

“I’ve never been so happy to be boring,” Shane replied, trying to hide a smirk. Sam was, after all, the kid who he’d shot down with the news that the farmer was off the market. Still, he felt a little happy for him. That was a weird thing to think. Shane was beginning to worry that he’d somehow turned into less of a dick.

“Care to dance?” The farmer asked.

“I don’t dance.”

“Not even a little? Not even when you’re drunk?”

“I’m too busy being sad when I’m drunk.”

“Come on, humor me.”

“Nobody in this town will ever see me dance.”

“Suit yourself.” The farmer went back to leaning against him, her arm resting lightly around his waist. “Say, I have an idea.”

“What's that?”

“A date idea. Come over tomorrow after work.”

Shane furrowed his brow at her. “What is it?”

“It's a surprise.”

This did little to ease Shane's thoughts; he hated surprises, and she knew it. But her face was so bright, as if she'd just had the idea of the century, and he decided to run with it for a little while. It wasn't like Pelican Town was jumping with romantic spots, anyway, so why not? Their lives had fallen into a quiet routine of sleepovers and dinners at home; a little injection of romance might do some good.

Shane arrived at the farmer's house after work as planned, and his heart jumped in his chest the second he saw her: she had her sword on her hip. She smiled broadly at him as he approached.

“You're on time.” She looked as bright and perky as usual, even with a three-foot piece of sharpened metal on her belt. Shane looked at the sword, and then up at her, and raised his eyebrows. “I planned a little twilight walk for us,” she explained. “Come on.”

“You have a weapon.”

“Just in case. It’ll be fun.” Shane didn’t move. “Come on!”

“Just in case of what?”

“You’ll see when we get there. Shane, look.” She took his hands in hers. “You want to know about me. You want to see what this part of my life is like. I want to show you. You won’t be in any danger, I swear.”

“I absolutely do not want to see what this part of your life is like.”

“I’ve been to this place a million times before.” The farmer squeezed his hands. “Do you trust me?”

“...Yes?”

“Then follow me.”

They walked south, the farmer’s hand around Shane’s, as Shane tried to focus on keeping his palms from getting sweaty. The pair continued past Marnie’s farm, into the waiting stillness of Cindersnap Forest. By now, the sun had sunk low, and the air was thick with the earthy smell of forest and the roosting songs of birds. “Where are we going?” Shane asked.

“We're almost there,” the farmer replied. The two followed the dilapidated fence west of Marnie’s farm until Shane could see a break in the trees just ahead of them. The farmer’s grip tightened. “Stick behind me, okay?”

They emerged into a shaded section of forest, the trees packed so tightly together that it seemed like its own little world, separate from the chaos of birdsong and warm earth at their backs. The air here was cool and still, the earth thickly carpeted with moss under his feet. Although it was almost night, the space they were in was seemed lighter.

Something instinctive inside Shane awoke, and he felt an odd quietness in his bones. Although he could not explain why, he got the feeling that he was standing on hallowed ground.

“Oop. Hold on.” The farmer leaped forward, drew her sword, and brought it down once, twice, in a movement that was short, sharp, and efficient. She sheathed her sword, and Shane saw a few globs of gelatinous material at her boots. Her eyes were sharp and focused, so unlike the woman who had awoken beside him that morning and looked at him, sleepy and in love.

“What…?” He asked helplessly.

“Slimes.” She smiled sheepishly, and then she was back, the farmer he knew, pulling her work gloves off and tucking them in her waistband. “I cleared the place out earlier, but they always seem to come back.”

“Your idea of a romantic date is to bring me to a place where we could get attacked?”

“Oh, they’re no trouble!” The farmer held up her hands. “Please, believe me. I’d never bring you somewhere you’d be in danger.”

“What is this place?”

“I found it a few seasons ago; I don’t think anybody knows about it. I forage here sometimes. Come on.” She held out her hand and smiled. “There’s more.”

As they walked, hand-in-hand, Shane felt a strange feeling of calmness wash over him. Something about this place spoke to him in a way that bordered on instinct, and despite the swordplay, he realized he actually felt safe there. In the warm spring air, the first fireflies of the season began to blink awake. Finally, they came to rest in front of a pond, the surface glasslike.

“I never knew this existed,” Shane breathed, watching the fireflies hovering over the water. He was aware of the farmer standing beside him, her eyes focused on him.

“I wanted to share it with you,” she said softly. “I know you… wonder about what else I do. This is some of it. I thought this might go over better than the community center.”

“Yeah, that was kind of a shock.”

“I wanted to show you that it’s not all monsters and danger out there. Some of it’s peaceful. Some of it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, looking at her. “Beautiful. How come you never show anybody else this stuff?”

“I don’t know.” The farmer nudged a pebble into the lake with her foot. “I guess I like being normal to them. You know, just ‘the Farmer.’ Nothing beyond that.”

Shane reflected on how desperate she’d come across when they’d first met, and considered how much of that had been a ploy to look normal. “You know shoving produce at people wasn’t the fastest way into their hearts, right?”

The farmer shrugged. “Kind of surprised how I managed to fit in after that. I guess I was desperate to finally have a place where I could fit in. Wandering around in caves, sword drawn… that doesn’t really fit with that.”

“Do you want it to?”

The farmer looked down at the pond, her expression soft. “I just don’t want to be the weird one in town for once. I like having friends.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you’re weird and I like you just fine.”

Suddenly, the farmer pulled him into an embrace, her head resting on his shoulder, her nose pressed against his neck, her right hand interlaced with his, his right hand around her waist. They stood there for a moment, and then, she pulled herself away just a bit, her left hand on his shoulder. Then, she lifted their intertwined hands and smiled. Suddenly, Shane realized.

“You little sneak,” he said, glaring at the farmer.

“I want that dance. Come on, I tried to meet you halfway. Nobody’s going to see you here.”

“I told you, I don’t dance!”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Not since junior prom, and my date left me at the punch table after the first ballad when I accidentally copped a feel.”

“Come on, that’s no fair. You’re halfway there. Now you just sway, like this.” The farmer tried her best to get him to move. “Just a little. Come on, you don't even need to move your feet.”

There, in Cindersnap Forest’s most secret glade, Shane could almost feel something in the night air. A sacredness, a calmness, but then, there could almost be music, too. A soft tune in a 1-2-3, just at the edge of his hearing. And suddenly, Shane realized he was swaying with the farmer too, both of them answering to some unheard waltz in the air.

Chapter Text

The summer whisked by too quickly, as it always did. Shane was never one for summer anyway, but he disliked it even more now, as the farmer was now occupied with planting and harvesting at double the rate she normally was, which had the added effect of cutting into their romancing time. When Shane complained one evening, she addressed the issue with the sort of pragmatism borne from country living: if he hated it so much, he could darn well roll up his sleeves and lighten the load for her.

“You want me to get off my shift at Joja and then come over here to help you till the fields?” He responded, clearly unimpressed by this suggestion.

“No, no harvesting. But if you help me with the hens, you’ll shave an hour off of my schedule.”
This was Shane’s silver bullet, and she knew it. He tried to put up a fight over it, but there was no hiding the fact that Shane was delighted by the chickens, and he frequently found excuses to go into the coop and make sure the girls were happy and had enough grain. He would frequently grouse about how the farmer had duped him into a second job, but nobody was really buying it anymore.

Gradually, as the weeks passed and the seasons rolled in and out, Shane realized that the feeling of hopelessness in his chest had waned. It was certainly not entirely gone, but it became manageable. The emptiness that had sat in his chest for so long began to fill itself in, bit by bit, with smiles from Jas and warm suppers that Marnie saved for him, with the bad jokes Lewis made in an attempt at camaraderie, and with every loving glance the farmer shot at him and every one of her goofy laughs. The pain hadn’t been erased, and he still had bad days, but it had somehow become manageable. And one day, Shane realized that, quite accidentally, he had put down roots.

“Are you okay?” The farmer asked him one autumn evening, looking up at him with that plaintive expression she got whenever she suspected Shane was having a bad mental health day.

“Sure, I’m fine.”

“You look nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“I don’t know; that’s why I asked.”

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine, actually, but he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” The farmer didn’t look convinced, but she thankfully let the matter drop. Actually, Shane was nervous, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. She’d figure out why soon enough.

Shane found Lewis at the Stardrop the following night, chatting away with Marnie. Shane hated to disrupt the conversation—Marnie looked enraptured, as usual—but this was important, so he was going to have to suck it up. Lewis smiled at Shane when he approached their table, even if he did look a bit confused as to why.

“Marnie,” Shane said, too nervous to slide into the conversation gracefully, “can I have a word with Lewis?”

“Lewis?” Marnie asked, thunderstruck.

“Me?” Lewis asked, equally surprised.

“Yeah,” Shane replied. “Just for a minute.”

“Well, I suppose I could use another glass of wine,” Marnie shrugged. “You boys let me know when you’re done talking.”

Shane waited until she was out of earshot, and turned his attention to Lewis. “I have to ask you something,” he said, trying to keep his nerves in check. He should have had a drink first. Stupid!
“What is it?” Lewis asked, trying to size up exactly what sort of question would have forced Shane into interrupting his night out with Marnie.

“Iwannaaskyouforyourblessing,” Shane blurted out, feeling color rise in his cheeks.

It took Lewis a second to parse what had just come out of Shane’s mouth. Even once he understood the words, he was having trouble comprehending if he had really just been asked that. “My… blessing?”

“Yeah.”

“You want… my…” Lewis looked at Shane in disbelief. “Shane, are you telling me you’re going to propose to the farmer?”

“Look, don’t make this any harder for me than it already is,” Shane grumbled.

Lewis’ face lit up like a firecracker. “My goodness! Shane, I’m honored, but why are you asking me?”

“Well, you’re the closest thing to a father that she’s got here! I’ve never even met her actual dad. I just want to know if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course I’m okay with it!” Lewis looked elated. “Shane, we all knew it would happen. So, have you got the pendant yet?”

“…The what?”

“The mermaid’s pendant!”

Shane had no idea how a conversation this simple could have already taken a sharp left into the absurd, but there he was. “Should I ask?”

“That’s the custom here in Pelican Town. If you want to ask for a person’s hand in marriage, you need to present them with the pendant. She’ll know what it means.”

“Okay, okay.” Shane massaged his temples. “So, where do I get this pendant? Does Pierre have one in his store or something?”

“Oh, no. You’ll need to go to the eastern beach and find a man named the Old Mariner. He’s in the woods, but only when it rains. He’ll give you the pendant.”

Shane stared at Lewis, stubbornly refusing to believe that this conversation was actually taking place. “So where do I actually get the pendant?”

“I’m telling you the truth. You need to go alone on a rainy day, and find him.”

“You know this is how people get stabbed to death, right?”

“Shane, you’ll be fine. If she means that much to you, then go do it. And you might want to hurry. He’s not around in winter.”

Shane did not like that answer one bit, but he really had no choice in the matter. He forced a smile. “Okay. Thanks, Lewis.”

“I ought to be thanking you!” Before Shane could react, Lewis shook his hand and pulled him into a bear hug, which wasn’t doing much for Shane’s original plan to be subtle about this. “Asking me for my blessing. Shane, she couldn’t have picked a better match. And don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.” He winked, clapped Shane on the shoulder, and finally let Shane beat a hasty retreat out the door. Outside, the air was clear and cool, and the stars were out. This allowed Shane the luxury of cogent thought, and he suddenly realized that, if he did go through with this, there was no way he was going to keep any more weirdness out of his life. Marrying the farmer meant marrying, well, the farmer—slimes, skeletons, evil hens, and all.

So maybe, Shane thought, it made sense that he had to haul himself out to some awful cut of land on the shore to talk to some old creep who was going to give him a stupid pendant so he could finally pop the question. But if that’s what he had to do, then that’s what he had to do. So, reluctantly, he waited for a rainy day to present itself, and gradually, he began to feel anxiety bubble up in his chest. Autumn was waning fast, and every day had been bright and blustery, with barely a cloud in sight. He was doing an alright job of hiding his nerves, but the farmer was sharp, and she was clearly aware that he was up to something. She danced around the question lightly, but Shane felt himself growing more and more apprehensive. Were they going to get a rainy day, or what?

Shane got his answer a week before winter arrived, when, during his afternoon shift at Joja Mart, the skies opened up and rain began pouring. Shane jerked his head up from stocking shelves so quickly, he thought he might get whiplash. It was now or never, and who knew how long the rain would last?

“Morris,” Shane tried to keep himself casual. “I’m sorry, but I just got a call from Marnie. Something urgent came up at the farm, and she needs me to come home.”

Morris looked at Shane, obviously suspicious. “Phones aren’t allowed out on the floor. You know that.”

“I do, and I’m sorry, I only have it for emergencies.”

“What did Marnie say was the problem?”

Shit. “A pig got stuck in the fence, and she can’t pull it out alone.”

“...Okay.” Morris didn’t look happy at all, but that was a compromise Shane was happy to take. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Morris.” Shane booked it out the door faster than he’d ever moved in his adult life and sped down to the shore, hanging a hard left at the shack and gently picking his way along the slick wooden boards of the bridge that led to the eastern beach. Old man in the woods, Shane repeated to himself. Not creepy at all. Totally normal. This is going to go so well, and nothing weird or murdery is going to happen to me.

Shane skidded to a halt on the sand, the waves lapping the sand behind him, and looked around desperately. He was soaked down to the skin in his uniform, and his shoes were rapidly filling with water. Where was this old fart? He was going to be beside himself with anger if this turned out to be a bust.

As he stood on the shore, scanning the trees desperately, his heart pumping, Shane felt a curious chill run up his spine, as if someone was watching him. He tried to ignore it, ignore the sensation that he was being watched, but it dogged him incessantly, until, almost by accident, he saw a withered old face in the brush, staring right at him. The shock was enough to give him heart palpitations. That had to be him, though.

Shane cobbled together whatever was left of his wits and approached the old man, soaking wet and already very tired of all the weird shit. “I was told I should ask you about a pendant,” he said, hoping the next thirty seconds did not result in a stabbing.

“Ah,” the old man said, a wry smile on his face, “I can see it in your eyes. There be a special someone in your heart.”

“Yes, well, you see—”

The old mariner clearly had a spiel prepared, and he wasn’t going to let some random townie interrupt his moment. “Just so happens I’m sellin’ a Mermaid’s Pendant.”

“Which is why I’m here, because—”

“Give that to your intended, and they’ll know exactly what you mean.”

“Yes, I am here because I want to buy your pendant, or whatever,” Shane said through gritted teeth. “How much is it?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

It took Shane a moment to recover, and when he finally regained his breath, he looked up at the old mariner with disbelief. “Five thousand dollars?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much for a necklace?”

“Son, do you really think I have any other source of income over here?”

Shane sighed, and withdrew his wallet. Five thousand dollars, and at a time when he was trying to save as much money as he could for Jas. His hand hovered over his wallet, his fingers shaking. He suddenly remembered that awful day in winter when the farmer had handed him an envelope of cash out of sheer pity. That stuck and burned in his stomach, and try as he did, he could never quite forget it. Could he afford this? Could he afford to propose to her when he had a niece to think of?

Fuck it, he thought with sudden resolve. He’d work extra shifts. He’d get a second job cleaning tables at the Stardrop. He’d make it work. He wanted it to work, more badly then he wanted anything else in his life. “Here.” He shoved a handful of bills into the mariner’s outstretched bear paw of a hand. “Take it.”

“You’re making a good decision.” The mariner had a knowing look in his eye when he reached into his pocket and handed Shane a delicate, spiraled shell suspended on a leather cord. “That’s yours now, son. Good luck.”

Shane wasn’t a fan of the little smirk the mariner had on his face, but it was still raining buckets, he was freezing, and, shit, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. He made a second mad dash, this time for the farmer’s. The rain was torrential, and he was soaked down to his skin when he reached her front door. It was unlocked, but unoccupied. This puzzled Shane, who knew the rain would have given her some welcome downtime. Whatever. He struck up a fire, stripped, and found the nearest towel.

Five thousand dollars, he thought to himself, down the drain. He took out the pendant and held it up, examining it in the firelight. The shell was an iridescent blue, shimmering muted rainbow colors wherever the firelight caught it. This was it. There was no turning back.

He heard the doorknob turn and jumped, stuffing the pendant into his pants’ pocket before the farmer entered, her hair plastered to her head and a look of surprise on her face. “Shane! What are you doing here?”

“I got out of work early,” Shane lied. “Where were you?”

“I, uh, I was up in the mountains. I had to deliver some lumber to Robin.” She flashed him a grin. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

“Are you complaining?”

She gave him a once-over with a little smirk on her face. “No.”

“You should join me by the fire,” Shane said, throwing his work clothes as far away from her as humanly possible. “It’s much nicer than the rain.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” The farmer peeled off her clothes, layer by layer, and left them in a muddied trail to the hearth. Later that night, as she slept beside Shane, he took a moment to consider his thoughts. Everything was there, right within arm’s reach. He just had to do it, now. He just had to gamble that the woman next to him wanted to stay there for the rest of her life.

It could happen. He just had to do it.

Chapter Text

If you pressed Shane into describing his mood following the day he obtained the pendant, he would say he was fine. If you really pressed him (possibly with the threat of violence), he would relent and say, “not great.” This was mostly because now that he had gone through the trouble of going through the proper channels by obtaining Lewis’s blessing and getting the pendant, he realized that he had left himself with terribly few ways to get out of actually proposing. And it wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want to pop the question—it was just that now he really had no choice but to do it. All he had to do was get over his fear of the future and make the call to change his life forever. Easy peasy!

He wanted to die.

It didn’t help him that the farmer had apparently picked up on his nervousness, and was now acting squirrely herself. The afternoon after he’d gotten the pendant, she had seemed on edge, fidgeting with her hands and staring off into space. When Shane chanced asking her what was wrong, she only smiled and said that she was fine; just a little tired from the frenzied season of planting and harvesting. But Shane knew better; she was antsy and nervous, probably because he was antsy and nervous. And why wouldn’t she be? She knew him better than anyone in town.

That night, Shane tried his best to lie still and keep his thoughts quiet, but his efforts were thwarted by the farmer, who tossed and turned in her sleep. Shane considered trying to soothe her, but he was really in no position to be dealing out comfort. He wasn’t actually sure if he’d slept a wink when the sun rose, but maybe a shift at Joja would keep his mind off things. The farmer looked exhausted; her eyes were heavy and dark from tiredness, but she still smiled at him as if nothing was wrong. She looked so miserable, Shane couldn’t help it anymore.

“Are you okay?” He reached over and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, and she rested her head in his palm. “You look like you didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled, her eyes closed. “Just preoccupied with the crops and animals, I guess.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” She cracked one eye open and kissed the palm of his hand. “What do you say we go for a walk after you get off work? Maybe go down to the dock? I think we could both use a break.”

“Okay.” That gave him a full work day to get his act together—that was doable, right? “I’ll see you tonight. Don’t push yourself. I know how you get when the seasons are changing.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” She kissed him on the cheek, but there was something off about it. It was too quick, too distant. Shit, Shane thought to himself on his way to Joja Mart, this really was affecting her. Like it or not, he thought as he changed into his uniform, he’d have to do something. It wasn’t fair to her to keep her on edge like this.

Maybe, he thought as he began stocking and arranging the shelves, there was a different way. Maybe he could tell her that he’d been thinking of taking their relationship to the next level. But no, that sounded stupid. And anyway, what next level? It had been over a year now, and he basically lived with her as it was. What was he going to do? Get down on one knee and say, “Would you declare domestic partnership with me for the purposes of insurance and tax benefits?”

It felt hopeless. And he felt hopeless, too. He had decided to do this because he had wanted to. Why were his feet getting cold now?

Shane was so wrapped up in his inner turmoil that he had not even noticed the drastically different feeling circulating around Joja Mart that day. In fact, it was only when Sam approached him after his shift that he even knew anything was happening.

“Hey, Shane?”

Shane looked up at Sam, now nervous and also automatically annoyed. “Yeah?”

“You hear anything from Morris today?”

“No, why?”

“Well, Charlene—” Charlene was the girl who worked the register who always looked tired. Shane never really talked to her, but Sam had said she was exhausted but she took the bus over from a neighboring town. “I talked to her this morning, and she said she’s getting laid off.”

Shane’s eye widened. “Laid off?”

“She said corporate wants to downsize here. I don’t know, Shane. If I get canned, where am I going to work?”

“Look, don’t panic.” Shane’s heart was now beating frantically. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Hey, maybe you’ll get promoted from floor sweeper to cash register.”

“Lucky me.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go see Penny. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure.” Shane suddenly felt very anxious. If his job was at risk, that was going to complicate things. He still had Jas to think about, after all, and that was to say nothing about himself. He wasn’t going to become some kind of deadbeat, sitting around while he girlfriend worked. He certainly wasn’t going to propose if he didn’t have a job. What was he going to do?

He thought of Jas, and his heart sank. He couldn’t let himself become a disappointment to her.

Sam’s reverie had put all thoughts of marriage firmly out of Shane’s head for the rest of the day. His primary concern was Jas; he had to figure out how to take care of Jas. He was wondering if he could swing postponing that after-work walk with the farmer when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

“Shane,” Morris said in his ear. “Can we talk?”

Shane’s stomach clenched, and this time it wasn’t just his natural response to physical contact with Morris. “Sure, Morris.”

“Now,” Morris said in a hushed tone (even though they were the only two people in the store) “you may have heard some words about the direction we’re moving in. Charlene is no longer going to be with us, but I want you to know you still have a place in the Joja family.”

Oh, good, Shane wanted to reply. Because that had been a primary concern of his.

“However,” Morris continued, “corporate has requested we do a bit of, ah, ‘strategic movement’ regarding our best and brightest. And that means you. This won’t affect your hourly pay rate. And since you’re in here every day, I wanted to offer you the opportunity to have a few days to yourself every week.”

Trying to find actual meaning in Morris’ statements was like trying to count grains of sand on a beach. “Would this affect my hours?”

“Well, yes,” Morris conceded. “We’d like to reduce your hours to thirty-two a week.”

“You want to move me to part-time status?”

“I am sorry, Shane. This is the direction we think is best for this branch of Joja. We want to see cross-department mobility for our remaining employees to make the business stronger. Your re-training is going to start next week.”

“Re-training?”

“With Charlene gone, we’ll need to train both you and Sam on the cash register.”

Shane felt like he’d just been slapped in the face. Morris had just told him he was getting his hours cut and expecting him to thank him for it. Shane wanted to scream. Instead, he forced a smile. “Well, thanks for being honest with me, Morris.”

“No problem, Shane. And, really, I do think you have what it takes to be manager material one day. If you stick this out… Maybe some time down the road, we’ll see about helping you up the ladder.”

“Th-thanks.”

“Anyway, why don’t you take the rest of the day? Go home, and think about what I said.”

What a sweeping act of generosity—Shane had half an hour left on the clock. Still, he muttered his thanks and left the store, a feeling of indignant anger rising in his stomach. And he realized that it was because he did want to propose. He wanted to do it, he wanted to stumble over the words when he told her how much he loved her and pop the question, and watch her laugh and say yes, she wanted to marry him, and now it was unclear to him whether or not he should even ask. Not with his finances about to become what they were.

In his pocket, he found the mermaid’s pendant, still nestled right where he left it, and his temper rose like a tidal wave. It was as if his mind was waiting for him to clear the blast zone, because as soon as he stepped onto the farmer’s property, his anger went off like a bomb.

“You are not going to believe what just happened to me!” Shane roared, shouldering open the front door and storming in. The farmer, caught off guard, yelped in panic before she realized that she was not being raided by the police.

“Shane! I—I wasn’t expecting you back so soon—” She was frantically shouldering her jacket, her face red. “I—are you okay?”

“No! That scumbag Morris cut my hours!” Shane was fuming, his face felt warm, and he had no idea what to do with himself. He was too angry to do anything, but also too angry to stand still. The farmer meekly reached out and touched his hand. Shane could see the trepidation on her face, and remembered what had happened between them the last time Morris fucked him over.

“I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” Shane sighed. “I don’t know about anything right now.”

“Well, come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

“I guess. Look, I’m kind of pissed right now, I might not be good company.”

“It’s okay. Just talk, and I’ll listen.”

This turned out to be a better idea than Shane would have given her credit for, because in his aggravated state, all he needed was to be pointed in a direction and be given a straight line so he could place all of his focus on ranting into thin air. He was really only dimly aware of the farmer’s presence beside him; her primary function seemed to be keeping him from looking like a lunatic.

“I’ve been at this place for almost five years now, never missed a day of work, never been written up, and this is the thanks I get!” He continued as they strode out onto the dock. By now, the sun was low in the sky and a thin, sharp chill was in the air. “I mean, don’t ask me about Jas, because I’ve got no fucking idea. How am I going to take care of her? How am I going to—what if she needs to go to the doctor? I’m not qualified for health insurance anymore. What if she gets sick? I don’t have nearly enough saved for her college fund. I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

“Shane—”

“And he says I’m ‘manager material.’ Can you believe that? He fires one employee, cuts the hours for the other two, and he tells me he thinks I’m qualified to do that like it’s some big fucking compliment. He’s a sociopath! He has to be out of his mind to think anybody would take that as a complement.”

“Shane—”

“He gets off on it! He honestly gets off on doing this to people. He didn’t even seem sorry when he told me about this. He just figures out what little piece of you he can carve off next, and then he expect you to thank him when he’s finished—”

“SHANE!”

“What?!” Shane had been so lost in his tirade that he didn’t realize that the farmer was behind him. He turned on one heel, ready to say something, then all the air left his chest.

The farmer was down on one knee in front of him, her eyes wide and nervous, her hands outstretched. In her palm was a small spiral seashell on a leather cord.

“Quit your job,” she said, her voice wavering. “Quit your job. Don’t even bother with your two weeks’ notice. Run my farm with me, and I’ll give you equal partnership. You don’t—I know you said you want to keep your work and personal life separate, but I don’t want to see you like this anymore, and you—you deserve better. And I know it might be a hard transition to make, but we’ll work it out. You make me so happy, and if—Shane, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Shane tried to think of something, anything, to say. “You…?”

“Will you?”

Shane laughed.

He didn’t mean to, it just popped out of his mouth, short and sharp, echoing across the lake in the quiet evening air. And then, he laughed more and more, louder, his voice loud and hysterical and somewhere on the line between joy and exhaustion and realization, all while the farmer’s face grew more and more heartbroken.

“Shane?” She asked, her voice tiny and suddenly vulnerable.

Still laughing, Shane dug through his pocket, and pulled out the mermaid’s pendant. As he held it aloft, the farmer’s face shifted, and suddenly, she was laughing too.

“You were—?”

“Yeah,” Shane answered, wiping a tear from his eye. “I was planning to.”

“When?”

“I wasn’t sure after today. But—wait. Hold on. Stand up. It’s my turn.” Shane pulled her to her feet, and then dropped to one knee, holding up the pendant. “Yes. Yes, I will.” The farmer burst into more laughter, tears running down her cheeks. “Be serious!” Shane wasn’t helping; he couldn’t even hold a straight face. “I mean it!” He stood and took her hands. “Look, when I first moved here, I couldn’t wait to get away. And when I first met you, I—let’s not get into that. My point is, I can’t see myself anywhere else now. And I can’t see myself with anyone else, either. And if you think I’m good enough to ask, then the answer’s yes.”

“You mean it?”

“Every word.”

The farmer leaped into the air and let out a tremendous whoop, and then threw her arms around Shane’s waist and hefted him into the air. Shane bent double over her, laughing as she set him down and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Hey!” She called out over the lake. “Hey, if there’s anybody around this lake who can hear my voice, oh, I’d like for you to know that Shane is my man!”

“Hey! They’ll hear you all the way to Zuzu City!”

“Aw, let ‘em!” The farmer looked up at Shane, breathless. “You’ll do it, then? You’ll work on the farm with me?”

“It’s not like Joja’s given me any reason to stay.”

“Okay.” The farmer’s face was still red and tear-streaked. “When do we want to do this?”

“Well, we’re both on the same page here. What do you say we do it in three days?”

“Three days?! That soon?”

“I’ll handle all the arrangements. Tomorrow morning. That way, we can do it before winter.”

“Okay.” The farmer craned herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed him, still smiling, and they embraced right there at the edge of the dock where they’d shared a few beers so many years ago. “What do you say we go home?” She asked, her forehead touching his.

The autumn night suddenly seemed full and lush in its coldness and as Shane stood there on the dock, his hands around the farmer’s, a thought dawned on him.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her toward land. “There’s something I gotta do.”

“What?” The farmer asked, gamely allowing him to lead her along. “What are we doing?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” The moon was high in the sky and it seemed like everyone in Pelican Town had locked their doors for the evening, but the lights in Joja Mart were still on, and as he approached the storefront, Shane could see Morris’ silhouette, still hunched over his desk even at this hour of the night. The time didn’t matter one lick to Shane, who booted the door open and thrust his head inside. “Hey! Morris!”

Morris looked up, obviously speechless.

“Fuck you! I quit!” Shane ducked out of the store again, had one more thought, and then grabbed the farmer, pulling her back inside with him. “And I’m getting married! So suck on that, ya creep!”

The farmer shrieked with laughter as they rushed through town, holding hands like a couple of idiot teenagers. When they stopped to share a kiss under a streetlamp, Shane heard a door open with an audible crack!

“Hey! Keep it down out there!” Shane recognized the person wheeling onto the front stoop as Alex’s grandfather, who seemed about as mean as Alex seemed stupid. “Some people are trying to sleep!”

“I’m sorry, Walter!” The farmer replied. “It’s just that I’m getting married!”

“Well, congratulations, young lady,” George replied kindly, and then shifted his attention to Shane. “And as for you, keep it down!”

“Sorry,” Shane muttered, watching George wheel indoors. “You know, you were the one making the noise.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Apparently, not even George can blame you.”

“Sorry.” She grinned and squeezed his hand. “So, what do you say we go home?”

“Yeah.” Shane brushed his fingers against her cheek, and, had he been given to more introspection, he might have wondered at just how far he’d come just to say those three words: “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Morning came too quickly again; it seemed like Shane’s head had just hit his pillow when he was already blinking the sun out of his eyes, the farmer still asleep beside him. It took Shane a second to remember why he felt so at peace, but then he remembered: he had momentously quit his job at Joja Mart the night before. There was also a naked woman beside him. He was also engaged to the naked woman.

And then, somebody knocked at the door.

Shane, feeling the familiar jolt of “I don’t want to interact with anybody, especially not now,” shook the farmer awake.

“Morning,” she said dreamily, looking up at him with obvious affection.

“Someone’s knocking,” he blurted out.

The farmer sat up, stretched, and then visibly jumped as another heavy set of knocks fell on the door from outside. “Yoba,” she hissed, and then rolled out of bed, pulled on whichever clothes had been hastily discarded closest to the bed, and opened the door a crack.

“Congratulations!” A huge collection of voices shouted from outside. It was at this moment that Shane realized that, technically, there was a mob outside.

“Oh, goodness!” The farmer demurred, and Shane could tell that she was using her bashful voice. “I wasn’t expecting so many visitors!”

“We came to say how happy we are for you two!” Shane could distinguish Gus’s voice outside. “We heard the big news this morning.”

“...Was it George complaining about us?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess. Look, we’re very honored you’d all come out to wish us well, but could we have five minutes?”

“Oh. Well, sure!”

The farmer shut the door and abruptly threw pants at Shane.

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging. “I guess we’re still big news, after all.”

“Why’d you have to yell so loud last night?” Shane groaned. “This is your fault.”

“I’m sorry.” As if to press the point, the farmer threw more clothing at Shane. “Now please put on your underwear. My underwear. Any underwear.”

Shane grunted, but acquiesced. Five minutes later, they were awake and outside, staring at the large crowd that had congregated outside the porch.

“Who invited you all over?” Shane groused, blinking in the morning sunlight.

“We’re here because you’re engaged or whatever,” Haley responded, rolling her eyes. “Well, like, I don’t care about you. But you’re engaged to my friend.”

Beside Shane, the farmer waved shyly. “How are you friends with these people?” He asked. The farmer shrugged in response.

“The whole town is just delighted,” Lewis explained, stepping forward. “We’re all excited about the news.”

“We’re all going to go into Zuzu City for the bachelor party!” Sam hooted from the back.

“No, we’re not!” Shane shouted back.

“It’s very kind of you to wish us well,” the farmer said, suddenly shy, “but we don’t want anything fancy. Just a little ceremony with you all there. That would be enough.”

“Can I at least make you a dress?” Emily asked from up front. “You’ve been so kind, giving me so much fabric—”

“Sure.”

“And I’ll perform the ceremony, of course,“ Lewis added. “It’s part of my duties as mayor of Pelican Town.”

“Sure,” Shane sighed, not very pleased with how much of the wedding had suddenly been taken from their hands.

“And we’ll all go back to the Stardrop afterward!” Gus volunteered. Which, Shane had to admit, he liked the sound of.

After a little more coaxing from the farmer, the majority of Pelican Town dispersed, leaving Shane there with the farmer, Jas, Marnie, and Lewis.

“Well, we’ll let you two get back to work in a minute,” Marnie said, dusting her hands off. “I know you’re already late, Shane.”

“I’m not, actually.” Shane cracked his first genuine smile of the day. “I quit last night. As of today, I work here.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Right after we decided to make it legal, I marched in and told Morris he could shove it.”

“Oh, Shane!” Marnie lunged forward and wrapped Shane in a bear hug. “I’m so happy for you. That place was never any good for you.”

“That place is no good for any of us,” Lewis chimed in, a faint edge to his voice. “But I’m happy for you both. Who proposed, by the way?”

“Why?”

“Well, right before Shane asked me for my blessing—”

“The farmer asked me for mine.” Marnie smiled. “We wanted to see who’d ask first.”

“Well…” Shane looked at the farmer, who shrugged. “Technically, we both asked.”

“But who first?”

“Me,” the farmer volunteered. “I surprised him when he was complaining about Morris.”

Wordlessly, Lewis withdrew his wallet and handed Marnie a few bills. “We’ll leave you kids alone now,” Marnie said gently. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of planning to do.”

“Aunt Marnie,” Jas asked, “can I stay?”

“You have to ask Shane.”

“You can stick around,” Shane offered. “I’ll walk her back later, Marnie.”

This was good enough for Marnie and Lewis, who bade them goodbye with another round of congratulations, and went on their way, hand in hand. The farmer, who could take a hint, quietly excused herself to go milk the cows. Finally, it was just Shane and Jas, outside on the porch in the late autumn morning.

“Shane,” Jas asked after a moment of quiet, “what’s going to happen to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I just going to live with Marnie now?”

“Jas.” Shane stooped and embraced his cousin. “You’re going to live wherever you want to, okay? I’m not going to forget about you. You’ll always be my goddaughter.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You’re not losing me, Jas. You’re just getting another family member, and a whole new bunch of animals to help take care of.” Shane smiled, a sudden lump having formed in his throat. “Look at you. When’d you get so tall?”

“I dunno.” Jas shrugged and smiled. “What am I gonna do about the wedding?”

“You do whatever you want.” Shane ruffled her hair. “As long as you’re standing there, right up front, I’ll be happy.”

“Okay. Do you want me to get you a gift?”

“Jas, why would I want you to get us anything?”

“I don’t know. That’s what grown-ups do.”

“Jas.” Shane was suddenly overcome by the sight of his baby cousin, standing in front of him, too eager to be at the cusp of adulthood. “You don’t need to be a grown-up yet. We’ll love whatever you get us. If you got us a rock, and it would be enough.”

“Okay.” Jas’ smile was suddenly energetic. “I’m going to find you something great! Something really great! The best rock I can find!”

Shane laughed. “Sure. Hey, why don’t we go and start collecting some eggs? I’ll introduce you to the hens we’ve got over here.”

The next three days passed in a whirlwind of activity. The farmer had been at Emily’s almost all day for all three days to be fitted for her dress, and the one time Shane had stopped by to say hello he’d been shooed away by Haley, who had told him that it was, like, bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, duh. Lewis picked up the slack for Shane, getting him to help haul out the old archway that marriages were performed under. The paint was alright, but it was covered in dust and spiderwebs from its many years in storage.

“We’ll hose that off,” Lewis reassured Shane. “It’ll be good as new.”

“Great,” Shane replied, trying to clear out the cobwebs he’d inhaled.

“Shane, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Marnie asked as soon as Shane walked into her home to collect his things. “Do you have a suit?”

“I have the one I used for my first job interview.”

“Oh, Yoba. Is that even going to fit?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Shane, it’s old!”

“I’m wearing it for one day.”

“The most important day of your life!”

“Marnie, I’ll be fine. Let me worry about that.”

“Shane!” Gus called out when he walked into the Stardrop for a moment of reprieve. “What do you want us to make for the reception?”

“Pizza?” Shane suggested weakly.

“What else?”

Beer?”

“What do you want for hors d'oeuvres?”

“What the hell d’you mean, ‘hor-derves’?”

By the night before the ceremony, Shane felt like he’d been hit by a truck and dragged for several hundred meters. He was too worn out to even fight Marnie’s suggestion that he stay one last night in his old room (because it was bad luck to see the bride before the the ceremony, of course). He just wanted to sleep, so it shouldn’t have come as any surprise to him when he heard a pebble bounce off his window.

Standing outside was—who else?—the farmer.

“You know, this is supposed to be bad luck,” Shane said, prying the window open. “Me seeing you before the wedding.”

“Do you believe in any of that?”

“No. I make my bad luck the old-fashioned way: with bad decisions. What do you want?”

“Come outside.” She was smiling. “I want you to do one last thing with me.”

“What?”

“I want us to go back to the community center.”

Shane balked. “You remember what happened the last time you brought me there, right?”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m giving you advanced warning right now. I know you think it’s a bunch of weird mumbo-jumbo, and I know you’d rather not think about it, but… that’s part of who I am. I’m not saying you have to be okay with it, or even understand it, but… can you make one last try? For me?”

“Why now?”

“Because I have the last thing they need to complete it.” The farmer pointed to her satchel. “I worked so hard to bring that place back to life, and it’s special to me. I want to share the last part of it with you.”

“There aren’t going to be any of those whatcha-call-its there? No slimes?”

“No slimes.”

“And you really want me to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Shane relented, “I guess we should get moving then, huh?”

The farmer’s grin went ear-to-ear as Shane climbed out the window.

The community center was just as lonesome and creepy as Shane remembered it being. The wind howled mournfully through the rafters and there were no lights to speak of, although the big hole in the roof did let in quite a bit of moonlight. As the farmer shrugged off her pack in front of the stained and dilapidated bulletin board, Shane reached out and took her hand. “Can I ask you something? Before we do this?”

“Sure.”

“Why keep this a secret? I mean, it took you almost four years to complete this place on your own. Certainly it could have been done faster if you told everyone about it and got them to help. So what gives?”

The farmer smiled sadly. “I thought about it, but in the end… There are strange forces at work here, and I know not everybody would understand it. And what we don’t understand… sometimes, people want to destroy. And I like these little guys. I couldn’t risk it. Even if that meant doing everything myself.”

“You showed me. And, let’s be fair, I was likely to react the worst to it. Which I did.”

The farmer shrugged. “I wanted to share this with you. You know, before we make it legal.”

“Is it going to be like last time?”

“Probably.” The farmer pulled a whole puffer fish out of her pack, and considered it. “They do have strange taste. Are you ready?”

In response, Shane reached out and took her hand. “Let’s do this.”

Together, they stooped at the tile in front of the bulletin board and laid the fish down. “Here we are, guys,” the farmer called out gently. “One last item, just for you.”

And then, the world began to shake even more violently than the last time, and the room was suddenly bright. Shane shouted a few words not fit for human ears and threw his arms around the farmer, who squeezed him back, her eyes scrunched shut against the sudden influx of white light. And then, suddenly, the world was quiet again, the room so brightly lit that it was indistinguishable save for the lone Junimo, bouncing in front of them. Shane privately thought that it looked like something he’d coughed up the last time he’d had a respiratory infection.

“You did it,” the farmer said, her eyes fixed on the little bouncing glob of snot. “Thank you.”

The Junimo looked up at Shane, its beady little eyes fixed on his. Then, it let out one last trill as both it and the light faded away.

“Goodbye!” The farmer shouted, waving, tears running down her cheeks. “I won’t forget you!”

And in response, a chorus of small voices filled the community center: “Bai! Bai bai! Bai bai!”

And then quite suddenly, the community center, all of it, was new and whole. The roof was restored, the walls and floor had been restored to a beautiful hardwood, and the lights were bright in their shiny new fixtures.

“Holy shit,” Shane breathed.

“It’s beautiful,” the farmer said, goggle-eyed. “I never thought it could look this nice.”

“It looks like all the furnishings are new, too.” Shane walked forward and stooped to look in the fishtank, now bubbling merrily. “Are those real fish? How’d they get real fish?”

“Magic, I guess.”

“Magic, you guess.” Shane sighed. “Like it’s that simple..”

“So far, it has been.” The farmer tugged at his hand. “Come on. I want this to be a surprise for everyone tomorrow.”

“You mean, you don’t want them to know that you had anything to do with this.”

“We’ve got enough to worry about. I’ll walk you back.”

In the cold night air, Shane felt both refreshed and jittery. He was about to marry the woman walking next to him, for better or worse, and she was going to marry him, too. If the farmer had any outlying concerns, though, she kept them quiet; the only noise between the two of them was the gravel crunching under their boots. As Shane pried his window open and prepared to shimmy in, he thought he heard something—something landing on the earth on the other side of the house? No, it had to be the farmer behind him—and he gracelessly hauled himself inside. He kissed the farmer goodnight, because she had pulled herself halfway through his window for the privilege, and said his goodbyes quietly. And, with the moon bright and the air in his room comfortably chilly, Shane went to sleep for his last night as a single man.

Chapter Text

Shane awoke the following morning in fits and starts, semi-conscious of the lumpy pillow under his head and how uncomfortable his old mattress was. He took it as a good omen that his old bed no longer seemed to fit. He was getting married today; that was the first cogent thought he had. He had an entire day of suits and ceremonies and socialization lying in front of him like a gauntlet. More comfortingly, he realized that in another twenty-four hours he’d be in bed beside the farmer, happily married, and hopefully never to be the center of attention again. That thought was a panacea to him.

Shane rose, stretched, and began the arduous process of getting ready. He showered and was doubly thorough shaving (although his best efforts still, as always, left him with a five o’clock shadow), and as he began easing himself into his old suit, he reflected that this was his final morning as a single man. Perhaps it should have felt more momentous than it did. He wondered what the farmer was doing at that moment; if she’d put on the dress yet.

And then, somebody pounded at his door, scaring him out of his reverie.

“Shane!” Marnie was on the other side of the door, hitting it with sledgehammer blows. “I need you to get out here now!”

This did not jibe with what Shane had envisioned Marnie to be like that morning; she didn’t sound happy, or even nervous. She sounded panicked. Something about her voice made the hair on the back of Shane’s neck stand up. Had he overslept? Now fully awake, he hastily donned his suit jacket and tie. When he emerged into the kitchen, Marnie was pacing in circles with Lewis behind her, trying to calm her down.

“Marn, she’s probably with the farmer, she said she’d be up early to get everything ready—”

“She’s not!” Marnie protested, her eyes wild. “She’d tell me if she was—Oh Yoba, Shane!” Marnie threw herself at Shane in a flurry, wiping her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Shane asked.

“Jas is gone.”

Shane’s stomach dropped into his heels. “What?”

“I went to go wake her up this morning and her bed was empty.” Marnie’s face was pale and tear-streaked. “She didn’t leave a note, Shane! What if she—”

“Have we checked the farm? And the farmer’s?”

“I just sent Jodi and Sam up to go look, but—” And Marnie broke down again, allowing Lewis to guide her into a kitchen chair. “Shane, where could she have gone?”

Shane’s brain was a million miles away, suddenly lost in a haze of panic and the same sharp ache he’d felt upon learning that Jas’s parents were dead. No, no, no, not her, not her, not now—

“Shane!”

Shane looked up and realized that Lewis had his hands on his shoulders, the older man’s eyes sharp and intense. “Shane, we need your help here. Did Jas say anything that might give us an idea where she’s gone?”

“I—I don’t know.” Shane replied, numb.

“Think.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Shane, she is counting on you. You have to think.”

“Let’s look at her room,” Shane replied, his mouth cottony and dry.

Jas’ room was not a place Shane enjoyed much; he had thought of it as giving her a place of her own, her own quiet refuge from the many cruelties of the world, but truthfully, he wasn’t especially interested in girl stuff. Her room was littered with stuffed toys and dolls, but her bookshelves were lined with books about science and nature. Jas, who had taken her lessons in the library, was always looking at shelves lined with shimmering gemstones and artefacts, and they had piqued her interest. Shane, keen to indulge her, had bought her with as many books about animals and earth science as she could request. Many of those books were now lying on the floor, staring upward at her ceiling. That didn’t seem right for Jas, who was naturally a tidy kid.

“We need to go to the farm,” Shane managed, his stomach tight. “We need… I need to see if maybe the others saw something. Maybe Haley or Emily…”

“Right. I’ll get Marnie.”

Shane wanted to protest, but he saw how gently Lewis lifted Marnie from the chair, supporting her with one arm, his voice measured and soothing. Of the three of them, he was the only one with his head on straight. How many crises had he seen in his time as mayor?

Overhead, the autumn sky was already bright and blue, in sharp contrast to the last orange leaves that clung to the branches above. It was an obscenity to Shane that the day be so bright and beautiful now, when this was hanging over his head. He was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be getting married. All he wanted now was for Jas to be sitting at the farmer’s, happy and unaware of the lecture she was in for from Marnie. In the distance, a crow cawed.

By the time they’d reached the farmer’s, a small crowd had gathered on the steps of the old farmhouse, and Gus was doling out marching orders. “Alex, you comb the quarry, and don’t leave out the minecarts that run up there. I don’t know how they started working, but I don’t like it. Demetrius, you and Robin should—Shane!”

The crowd parted for Shane, Lewis and Marnie, and a sudden hush overtook the surroundings. “Where is she?” Shane asked.

“We only just heard,” Gus said helplessly. “We were over here getting ready to set up when Jodi and Sam came with the news.”

“She’s not here?” Shane asked, his last vestige of hope punctured.

“No. The farmer hasn’t seen her.”

“Haley started calling everyone the second we told her,” Sam explained, his voice shaky. Shane, for no reason he could explain, felt like decking him across the face. He refrained.

“Shane!” The farmhouse door clattered open and the farmer burst out. She threw her arms around him, and when she let go, Shane could see that her eyes were red and puffy. Her hair, usually wild and loose, was now sleek and shiny, and small flowers had been arranged just behind her ears. Shane realized, with a sudden lurch from his gut, that she must have been getting ready when the news had arrived. She must have been sitting inside, Haley doing her hair, Emily getting the dress ready.

“We’re going to find her,” the farmer said, her voice oddly choked. “I promise. We’ll look all night, if we have to.”

“We’re going to split up into teams,” Gus explained. “We’ll cover more ground that way. But, Shane, if there’s anything you can give us…”

Shane ran his hands through his hair, fighting to calm his breathing and get a grip. Trying to find a clear thought in Shane’s mind felt like trying to search through murky water; thoughts slipped through his fingers like minnows. Re-centering himself felt impossible, as if he was suddenly without a mind to correct.

“Shane.” The farmer took his hands in hers, and he could tell she was trying to look encouraging. “Think about the last time you talked to her. Was there anything she might have said?”

Even though he wished his thoughts had gone to anything else, he found himself thinking of the day after the proposal, when he’d hugged Jas. When did you get so tall? Shane wanted to cry. She had tried to be so grown-up for him, so mature. His cousin, his goddaughter, who had counted on him to keep her safe, who had grown up right before his eyes, always curious, always too smart for her own good, always asking questions, never happy to stay on the ranch—

“She wanted to know what to get us,” he said, looking at the farmer. It seemed so stupid when he said it.

“What?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Jas. She wanted to get us a present, and I told her—I said we’d be happy if she got us a rock.”

“Shane,” the farmer pressed, “think.”

“She must have left to go look for something,” Shane murmured, an idea slowly forming in his mind. “Something to get us. She said… she said she was going to get us the best present she could find.”

Suddenly, a lone memory leapt from the shadows. The harvest festival, so many years ago. Jas, her face bright with enthusiasm, as she had her fortune told.

The books. The museum in the library.

“I see jewels. A shining crystal in your hand. I see… a wedding!”

“She—Lewis.” Shane suddenly understood, and snapped his head over in the direction of the mayor, who was still comforting Marnie. “I know where she is.”

“Where?” Marnie asked through her tears. “Where’s she gone!?”

“We don’t need to split up. Lewis, she’s gone into the mountains. She’s in the mines.”

“The mines,” the farmer breathed, looking up at him. She had gone pale.

“Why would she be in the mines?” Jodi asked. “It’s dreadful down there. It’s no place for a little girl!”

“She said… She wanted to get us something for the wedding. I think she went down there to find it.”

“No!” Marnie looked horrorstruck. “No! Shane, why would she?”

“There’s monsters down there!” Demetrius shouted, horrorstruck. “If she’s down there, we have to do something! Now!”

Shane looked at the farmer, who, in addition to looking pale, suddenly seemed on the verge of tears. “I’m going to go get her,” she announced, and before Shane could protest, she had ducked back inside. This did not grok with Shane, who was wondering if the farmer had forgotten exactly to whom Jas was related. When he ducked in after her, he saw that she was opening a chest, and as Shane watched, the farmer withdrew a gleaming longsword.

“You’re not going alone,” Shane said softly, unsure if he was angry or just working through his heightened emotions.

“Shane, I’m the only one who’s ever been down there,” she said, sheathing the sword and fastening it to her belt. “I can’t let you go down there.”

“You’re not leaving me behind!” Shane shouted. “You can’t—what, because you’ve got a sword and hero complex, you’re going to throw yourself down there alone?”

“Yes!” The farmer had gone feral again, her eyes bright and fierce and still red from crying. “Yes, I am! What is Marnie going to do if she loses you and—”

“What do you mean, ‘if Marnie loses me’? What about me, huh? I lost Jas’s parents, and now Jas is gone, and now you’re asking me to just let you—”

“Shane, listen to me!” The farmer’s voice was now high and thin. “Don’t you get it? I told her!”

There was a long, heavy pause as the farmer’s words calcified in the air around them. “What?” Shane finally asked.

“She asked me about the mines,” the farmer said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It has to have been months ago; I thought she was just curious. So I told her. I said that’s where I got all the fossils and gems she’d been admiring at the library, and—” She buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t tell her about the monsters because—Shane, she was so little, I didn’t want to scare her. Shane, this is all my fault. This is all my fault.”

Shane wanted to throw up. Jas was missing, and the most responsible party for her disappearance was now crumpled in front of him, holding a longsword.

“Shane.” Marnie’s voice, suddenly behind them, was calm. “It’s nobody’s fault.”

Shane looked back and saw Marnie, and Lewis, and the whole of Pelican Town gathered outside the front door.

“We’re all going,” Lewis said as Marnie took the farmer’s hands and led her and Shane out onto the porch. “She’s all of ours. We’ll all go.”

That’s right!” Alex shouted. “If there’s monsters down there, we can take ‘em!”

“There’s gotta be pitchforks in the barn!” Caroline shouted from the back. “Let’s all grab them, and go raise hell down there!”

“Yeah!” Robin shouted, and the town chorused in agreement.

Shane had never seen an angry mob before, but he guessed that what had just formed in front of the farmer’s house would surely count as one. It suddenly seemed like everyone in Pelican Town, having suddenly been provided with an outlet for the heightened emotions, was looking to take it out on whatever was in the mines. And the farmer, standing beside him, now looked horrorstruck.

“N-no,” the farmer pleaded. “You shouldn’t—I can do this myself. Please! You shouldn’t go down there! You’ll—I can—” Her voice was lost in the maelstrom of public ire, and Shane felt a sudden long-buried dam of anger burst.

“Listen to me!” Shane bellowed over the mob. “Would you idiots stop yelling?! All of you!”

Shane, whose voice had been the loudest and had expressed the clearest course of action to take, had somehow taken root in the crowd. They looked up at him, befuddled.

“Look,” he began. “The farmer knows better than any of us what’s down there, and that’s because she goes into the mines, okay? She’s been going down there since she moved here. And whatever monsters, or ghouls, or whatever is down there, she knows it better than us. And, yeah, there’s bad shit down there, but there’s probably things worth keeping too, okay? Good things. Maybe even beautiful things! And having a group of lunatics wielding torches and literal—literal pitchforks—down there isn’t going to help anybody. It’s not going to help Jas, okay? So why don’t you all shut up and listen to her?”

The villagers looked at Shane, and then back at the farmer.

“Is that why you’ve got a sword?” Vincent asked from the front.

The farmer, despite herself, laughed. “Yeah,” she replied, wiping her eyes. “It is.”

“So that is why you were in Harvey’s clinic two years ago!” Emily shouted, as if she’d solved a great mystery.

“Yeah.” The farmer smiled. “Listen to me. Shane’s right. There are bad things down there, and I can’t ask you to risk yourselves to do a job I can do on my own. You’re wonderful people, all of you, and I wish today could have gone differently, but—” She paused and wiped her eyes. “I’m going down there, and I can’t ask you to come. This has got to be my responsibility, okay?”

And, unbidden, Marnie reached out and took the farmer’s hand. “Not just yours,” Marnie said. “Mine. She’s my girl, too. I’m not going to let you do this by yourself.”

“Marnie.” The farmer stared at her. “After what I did, how can you—”

“There’s nothing to be angry about. You saw a little girl who lost her family, and wanted to have an adventure, and you let her share yours.” As the farmer burst into tears, Marnie embraced her. “Hon,” Marnie said gently, stroking her hair. “You’re the heart and soul of this town.”

“I’m coming, too,” Lewis said, patting the farmer on the shoulder. “There’s nothing to beat yourself up over. And I’m not going to let you two girls go down into the mines on your own.”

“Lewis—” the farmer protested.

“No arguments! I’m coming.”

“I am too!” Jodi volunteered from the front. “Sweetheart, you were so kind to me and my boys when we were here alone, we couldn’t not do this for you. No pitchforks. Whatever you need us to do.”

“Hell if I’ll let you go down alone,” Jodi’s husband piped up next to her. “You helped my wife and boys. You helped me.”

“I think you’re the only reason my shop’s still in business,” Pierre said, his arm around his daughter.

“You read my novel!” The long-haired man who lived on the beach (Shane had never bothered to learn his name) shouted.

“We’re all going with you,” Lewis repeated, and squeezed her shoulder. “Shane,” he asked, looking at the other man, “are you with us?”

Although he would never say it, could never say it without sounding crazy, Shane had experienced a sudden revelation. Whatever story was being told now, he was not the main character. He never had been. He was looking at her: the beloved farmer. The woman who had moved to an abandoned farm on a whim and ingratiated herself into the community, desperate to find a place where she could belong. The woman who had managed to capture the heart of everyone in town, but would only settle for the sad loner at the bar.

Yes,” Shane said softly. “Of course I am.”

The entire town marched to the mines, the farmer out in front, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. When they reached the mouth of the cave, cavernous and dark, and still out of earshot of the rest of Pelican Town, Shane reached out and took the farmer’s hand in his. “Do you hate me?” She asked, her voice papery, but her eyes fixed ahead of them.

“No,” Shane whispered, and he was telling the truth. “I love you.” As they looked at the mouth of the cave, he remembered what the fortune teller had said to him.

I saw a great darkness in front of you, and many people behind you.

“Now, let’s go get Jas.”

Chapter Text

The mouth of the mines arched above Shane and the rest of Pelican Town, quiet and dark in front of them, stretched wide in a broken-jaw yawn. The farmer looked grim, her mouth set in a tight, thin line. Shane had never seen her look quite this way before.

“Okay,” she said, turning to address the people of Pelican Town. “This cave system goes down deep, and the mine elevator is old and hasn’t seen any maintenance in a while, so listen up. We’re all going to go in and check the top level together. After that, I’ll go down and start clearing out the lower floors. I want you guys to stay up top in case Jas resurfaces. She’s going to want to see some familiar faces. Are we clear?”

There was murmured assent from the villagers. Shane saw Marnie standing at the front of the pack, holding a torch as if it were a lifeline, her face set. Lewis was holding her hand.

“We can fan out at the entrance and look; we’ll cover the most ground that way.” The farmer held up her own flashlight and turned around. Shane saw her gulp. “Let’s go.”

Inside, the cave was not as still as its exterior had led Shane to believe. Even before the entirety of Pelican Town stepped inside, Shane could hear water dripping onto the floor, and echoes of the wind bouncing off the walls, like ghosts trapped in an empty home. Shane shook the image from his head. He didn’t want to be thinking of ghosts right now.

“How far do you think she could go?” Shane asked softly as the villagers began their search, earnestly hollering into the darkness.

“I don’t know,” the farmer answered quietly. “But that elevator goes all the way to the bottom of the mines now. I’ll start there and work my way up.”

“…Do you think you’ll have to?”

“Let’s see how this pans out first,” the farmer said, still looking off into the distance. Shane thought he saw her expression shift as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Jas!” Of all the people shouting, Marnie’s voice was by far the loudest. After a moment, Shane joined her in her search, which involved shouting as loudly as possible in every direction.

“Jas!” Shane called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Jas, if you can hear me, I promise we’re not angry! We just want to know where you are!” But the mines didn’t give up Jas; they only returned his voice to him in more echoes. “Listen,” Shane said, grabbing the farmer’s forearm. “You said that elevator can only take so much weight, right? Let me come down down to the bottom with you. We’ve got to go. Now.”

“Look.” The farmer rested her hand over his, her face soft and gentle. “I have one more idea. I know someone we can ask.”

“What?” Shane suddenly realized that his voice was frantic. “Where?”

“In here. The friend, uh… lives here.”

“You have a friend who lives in the mines?” Shane narrowed his eyes at her. “Have I met them?”

“No.”

Shane narrowed his eyes further. “Are they human?”

“...No.”

“What the fuck is in here?” He hissed, his grip on her arm tightening. “We’ve got skeletons, ghosts, and slimes. Is there anything else you want to tell me about?”

“Shane, they might have seen Jas come down here. They might know something, I just don’t want—”

“Who might know something?” Marnie asked. The farmer, in her state, had not kept her voice down, and Marnie was suddenly fixed on the farmer with blistering intensity. “Do you know someone who might know where she’s gone?”

“Who?” Penny asked, and Shane realized that the entire town was now looking at the farmer, who was beginning to fidget. “You know someone?”

“Someone lives here?” Sam asked.

“Let’s go find them!”

“Yeah!”

“Where are they?”

“Look!” The farmer shouted, her voice thin. “Look, we can go ask but, this person… they’re… different, okay? They look a little different. You can’t panic when you see them.”

“Where are they?” Shane repeated.

“Follow me.” The farmer ran one hand against the cave wall until her fingers curved inward along a wall Shane had not managed to notice previously; it was all but hidden. “It’s down here.”

Shane watched her vanish down the hallway and squeezed in after her. The walls were cold and damp against his palms, slick with humidity. He could hear Marnie snaking through the passage behind him, and behind her, the rest of Pelican Town; he felt anxious and sick down to his core. He was about to ask the farmer how much longer they’d have to work through this hallway when he emerged into a little room, and almost plowed right into the farmer, who had stopped short in front of him.

The room was small, but warm and mercifully dry. It had the appearance of a workshop, with little lanterns suspended from the ceiling and several tables with little whittled figures standing on them. Standing at the back wall was a little hooded figure, staring, panicked, with beady little eyes. And to its left, holding a crystal and no worse for wear—

“Jas!” Marnie had burst through the crack in the wall. Shane barely had time to think before he was swept up in his aunt’s arms as she rushed for Jas and descended on her, all three of them swept up in a rib-breaking hug. “Oh Yoba, Jas, we were so worried,” Marnie sobbed, her bushy brown hair falling into Shane’s face. “Don’t you ever do that to us again!”

“Jas,” Shane began, and his voice broke. He realized that he was crying. “Jas, why did you come down here?”

“I just wanted to get you something nice,” Jas explained, her voice soft and very embarrassed-sounding. “I didn’t… I thought I’d be back before you noticed.”

“How could you think we wouldn’t notice?!” Marnie howled, still clutching her niece and nephew to her bosom. From the position he was being headlocked into, Shane could see the farmer and Lewis, still standing behind them, still separate from the little family Marnie had cobbled together with him and Jas. The farmer’s smile was just a little wistful.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your wedding,” Jas said softly, her face smushed somewhere in the vicinity of Shane’s left bicep. As if taking her cue, Marnie gently released them and backed off.

“Ruined? Jas, no.” Shane rested his hands on her shoulders. “Jas, nothing you could do would ruin our wedding. As long as you’re there for it, that’s all that matters.” Shane looked over at the creature Jas had been standing next to. Its face was completely obscured in shadow, thanks to the hood it wore; the only features he could make out were two beady red eyes, now watching him apprehensively.

“This is the friend I was telling you about,” the farmer explained, approaching Shane and Jas. “We’ve known each other for a while.”

“What the hell is that thing?” Pierre asked from the back of the crowd.

“A dwarf,” the farmer said gently. “I know it might seem odd, but they live down here in the mines.”

“Is it human?” Lewis asked.

“Well no, they’re a dwarf.”

“Remarkable!”

In response, the dwarf began to chitter quickly, its voice perhaps, if Shane was listening right, a bit angry. Instinctively, Shane put a hand in front of Jas.

“It’s okay!” The farmer held up her hands. “It’s okay. They’re just a little bit defensive. This is a little cave, and you’re a lot of people. All of you, just calm down.”

“This is incredible.” Gunther, the town’s historian, had elbowed his way to the front of the pack. He bent and looked at the dwarf, adjusting his glasses. “Just incredible! I’d studied the local legends about this, but to see it here, living, breathing… you must let me take a closer look.”

“Nobody’s taking a closer look at anything unless you get permission.” The farmer frowned. “I’m sure we can figure out a respectful way to do this.” The dwarf tugged on the waist of the farmer’s overalls and chittered something else to her; she replied in a similar-sounding garble of words.

“You can talk to this thing, too?” Shane asked, exasperated.

“I’m teaching myself.” The farmer shrugged, as if embarrassed that she was learning an ancient language on her own. “The dwarf saw when I had my accident down in the mines. They want to know if you’re the man who helped me to the doctor’s.”

“I… Yeah?”

The dwarf quickly shuffled over, regarded Shane with its beady red eyes, and abruptly put its hand out in front of it.

“They say ‘thanks,’” the farmer explained.

“Call us square,” Shane replied weakly, and shook the dwarf’s outstretched hand.

“You knew about all this, then?” Marnie asked, gazing at the dwarf with curiosity. The farmer shrugged stiffly.

“Well, yes… They’d rather I didn’t tell.”

“This is awesome,” Abigail gaped. “Are there any ghosts down there?”

“Loads.”

“Oh, wow. Can I go?”

“You absolutely may not,” Pierre grumbled. “Leave the ghost hunting to the professionals.”

“I had no idea we were sitting on something so rare,” Lewis said quietly. “And what’s more, not one of us noticed. Why didn’t you tell anybody about all this?”

“I was afraid,” the farmer explained gently. “I was afraid you’d react poorly, I guess. The things that make this place strange… they have feelings, too. They don’t want to be exploited. I’d never forgive myself if Joja Corp found out and tried to buy this whole place out from under us and turn it into some kind of theme park.”

“Well, then let’s make sure that never happens!” Lewis squared his shoulders. “I’ll make it so that this town is a protected place. Never for sale; never to be bought or sold by anybody. This will be our town forever. And that’ll be doubly easy, now that the community center has been restored!”

“What?” The farmer balked. She wasn’t half bad at feigning surprise, Shane thought grimly. “What do you mean, ‘restored’?”

“It’s the damndest thing,” Clint piped up from the back. “With all the excitement this morning, I didn’t get around to telling anybody but Lewis. I got up this morning, passed by it, and thought I was still dreaming. It’s been completely rebuilt!”

“I can’t believe it,” Robin muttered.

“It’s a miracle,” Marnie said, smiling wide.

“Yeah,” the farmer agreed. “It’s a miracle.”

“Look, no it isn’t,” Shane said flatly, turning to address the crowd. “We’re getting this all out into the open, so here: the farmer restored it. She did it all, and she did it all by herself. I helped her with the last piece last night. She didn’t want anyone else to know.”

The town quieted, and looked over at the farmer, who was fidgeting nervously. “Is that true?” Lewis asked. “You did that all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” the farmer said after a moment. “I did.”

“Well,” Lewis said after a moment, “I’m not sure how you did it, but the community center has never looked better. You’ve done Pelican Town a great service.”

“What about,” Marnie began, approaching the farmer, “if you do the whole thing there? A new community center, and a new beginning. For the both of you, and for all of us, too.”

“I don’t know,” the farmer demurred, and looked at Shane. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Shane stepped forward and joined Marnie and the farmer. “Actually, I don’t think there’s a better place to do it.”

“You mean it?” The farmer asked, obviously taken aback by this endorsement.

“Yeah.” Shane reached out and took her hands in his own. “I do.”

So that’s how it happened—in front of the community center, with Shane in his suit and the farmer in her muddy work clothes, Lewis declared them husband and wife. To no surprise to anyone, the farmer lifted Shane off his feet for their first kiss as a married couple (it did garner much applause and a few hoots from the townspeople), and in her enthusiasm she lobbed the bouquet so hard that it wound up going wild in the air and landing to the direct left of Emily, prompting a stampede from the town’s handful of remaining bachelorettes.

As the newly-married couple walked into the community center, flanked by the rest of the villagers, Shane heard the first notes of a slow dance playing, and looked at the farmer with dawning panic.

“Did you not realize getting married was going to include a first dance?” The farmer asked, bemused.

“I had hoped, yeah.”

“Come on.” The farmer took his hand, and led him to the middle of the reception area. “Like we practiced in the forest.”

“Let’s everyone get onto the floor!” Sam shouted from the back as the town surged forward, cheering. “Every person is a decade of good luck for the happy couple!”

“Look at everyone. We’re going to have good luck way after we’re dead,” Shane mused as couples began grouping up around them.

“Enjoy it,” the farmer said gently, swaying with him to the music. “We’re going to be another old married couple tomorrow.”

“I cannot wait.” Shane leaned in and kissed the farmer again, and a hush fell over the crowd almost at once. It seemed almost too magical, too romantic, and when Shane drew back, he saw why. Nobody was looking at him and the farmer—everyone’s attention had turned to the doorway. Standing there was a large man, and though the light from the doorway obscured his features, Shane already knew who it was. His grip on the farmer's arms tightened instinctively.

Sales have been plummeting!” The man shouted at nobody in particular as he stormed inside, light spilling over his twisted features. “Where have all my customers gone?”

“Ah,” Lewis remarked lightly. “Morris.”

“All my customers,” Morris continued, his face purpling with anger. “Here?!” He scanned the crowd, saw Shane, and Shane could feel a sudden chill go up his back as Morris advanced on him, having found a suitable focus for his anger. “So you think this is it?” He asked, jabbing a finger into Shane’s chest. “You quit, you build your little community center, and you think I’ll let you get away with it? You think I’ll let you and that hillbilly standing next to you ruin me? You haven’t gotten rid of me, Shane!”

“Screw you,” Shane snapped, slapping Morris’ hand away. “You’re not welcome here.”

“But here I am!” Morris' tone became crueler. “This means nothing to me. I’ll just run a 75% off sale, and all my customers will come crawling back to me, begging for forgiveness. You’ll see! And when I get enough money, I’m going to buy this town, one way or another. That’s how it is. You can’t stop us. I’ll pay off whoever I need to get the deed this whole town, and when I do, I’m going to personally make sure we turn your farm into a parking lot!”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Shane snarled, shoving Morris back. “I told you, you’re not welcome here.”

“And what are you going to do?” Morris taunted.

Suddenly, Shane felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He turned and expected to see the farmer, but it was actually Pierre, with a sort of strange tranquility on his face. “Please,” The other man said gently. “Allow me. I think it’s time we settled this, once and for all.”

And then, with no further discussion, Pierre casually walked toward Morris and decked him hard enough to cause him to stagger backwards, out the front door, which Pierre then causally closed and locked. He turned back toward the audience, looking perhaps a bit embarrassed at his show of force.

“Dad!” Abigail shouted, thunderstruck. “That was awesome!”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Pierre shook his hand out. “…Do we have any ice?”

“I’m setting up the refreshments in the kitchen,” Gus volunteered. “There's plenty of ice in there. Certainly a beer or two for you, too.”

Pierre quietly excused himself from the reception with Caroline beside him, his back now a bit straighter and his shoulders a bit more square. The music resumed, and at last, Shane and the farmer finished their first dance as Emily began handing out full champagne glasses and scolding anybody who immediately tried to drink.

“Do you think he’ll do it?” The farmer asked as the music wound to a stop. “Do you think he’ll come back and try to take this whole town?”

“He might try,” Gunther interrupted from the sidelines as he took a glass from Emily, “but he’s going to have a damn hard time of it. Given everything you’ve donated to the museum since you got here and our little friend down in the mines, Lewis and I think I’ve got enough to get this place classified as a heritage site.”

“You mean it?” The farmer asked, cowed.

“Of course. I mean, a full set of artifacts from the dwarven civilizations down below, and a living ancestor? We should have no problem getting the land protected. Not to mention the town surrounding it.” He winked. “With me and Lewis working on the case, I think our friends at Joja are going to be very disappointed soon.”

“Gunther!” The farmer broke from Shane and hugged the archaeologist. “Thank you!”

“Well, I live here too. I can’t walk away from a place like this. Not after everything you’ve shown me. You revitalized this town.”

“Hey!” Gus’ voice boomed over the assembled crowd. “What do you say we all get ready to toast to the happy couple?”

As the town grouped up around Shane and the farmer, a noticeably emotional Marnie tapped a fork against the side of her glass. “Shane, dear,” the began, wiping her eyes, “when you came to this town, I’ll be honest: I was worried. I was afraid you’d never find your place here. But the day the farmer introduced herself, I knew that was it for you both. I knew she’d be the person to bring you into the fold. Even in your toughest moments, I could see that you were finally happy. Shane, sweetheart, I can’t tell you enough how happy I am for you both.” Marnie sniffled loudly and raised her glass. “To you, Shane. And to our farmer, and may every one of your days be better than the last!”

The crowd cheered and raised their glasses, and applauded as Shane and farmer linked arms to drink. The music swelled again to accent the moment, and revelers streamed out onto the dance floor, heady with romance (and perhaps some of the beer and wine that was making its way to the crowd). As the noise rose and the town lost itself in its revelry, Shane noticed the farmer slip outside, and after taking a moment to gauge how long it would be before they were missed, he followed her. His new wife was sitting on a swing in the back of the community center, her eyes fixed on the full moon above.

“They’ll come get us if we’re gone too long, you know.” Shane gently laid his jacket over her shoulders.

“Yeah,” the farmer conceded. “I just wanted a moment of quiet after today.”

“Me too.” They stood in silence for some time, the breeze soft and welcome against Shane’s face. He came to realize that the farmer had leaned her head against his side.

“Can you ever forgive me?” The farmer asked. “For telling Jas about the mines?”

“Look,” Shane sighed, and settled in the swing next to her. “I was pretty angry this morning, but Marnie was right. Jas is a smart kid, she was alone in a new town, her godfather was… well, probably drunk, to be blunt. And you told her all about your adventures. You gave her a piece of the magic you knew about. You gave her a reason to be here. I can’t be mad over that.” Shane reached out and took her hand. “You gave me a reason to be here, too.”

The farmer looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know if I say this enough, but thank you.”

“What for?”

“You were the first person to accept the real me. Even if there were some bumps along the way.” She chuckled softly. “If it weren’t for you, I might have never come clean about what I knew about this place. You gave me the push I needed, and it turned out that that’s what’s going to save the town. You were really the one who saved Pelican Town, Shane.”

“How’s that for irony?” Shane asked, looking up at the moon.

“Pretty good,” the farmer replied, squeezing his hand. “We should head back in before they miss us. What do you say?”

“After you.” Shane gently tugged the farmer from the swing and laced an arm around the small of her back as they headed back toward the warm light and the mingled laughter of the restored community center, back to the home that had inexorably taken root in their flesh and bones.

Back at the farmer’s home, the last crickets of the season chirped gently in the cool night air, their songs mingling with the slow, steady breathing of sleeping cows and sheep. In the back corner of the farm, at the old shrine behind the orchard, four candles flickered gently in the night.

Chapter Text

Your heart’s in retrograde. You simply have no choice.
Things people told you turn out to be true.
You have to hold that body, hear that voice.
You’d have sworn no one knew you more than you.

How many people thought you’d never change?
But here you have. It’s beautiful. It’s strange.

Kate Light, “There Comes The Strangest Moment”

“Shane! Shane, go get your girls!”

It was early autumn in Pelican Town, the time of year when the sky is its bluest and there’s a telltale chill in the morning air before the sun warms the earth. The autumn crops were just beginning to sprout, and Shane was being called to act before the chickens, eager to rake through the dirt with their claws, got to the vulnerable seedlings and uprooted them in their search for grubs.

He had to admit, the day of his wedding had been so harried, so hectic, so momentous in all its bluster that he had assumed a switch would be flipped, and he would be quite happy in his married life forever after. That was how it worked, right? You tie the knot and wake up in domestic bliss every morning, with every problem quietly smothered under the cloying blanket of matrimonial functionality. Shane had been surprised at just how easily farm life came to him in the first few seasons. The routine was simple: he would rise in the morning (perhaps after some early-morning romance with his wife), water the crops, and tend to the chickens before bidding the farmer goodbye as she went off to fish or journey down into the mines. On the days when Jas stayed at the farm, he caught the longing in her eye as she waved goodbye to the farmer.

Jas barreled forward full-tilt into being a teenager, and she took up the sometimes-painful process of outgrowing herself, shedding ideas and identities like cicadas do. With each iteration, she emerged smarter, stronger, and more willful. Shane found himself crashing against the sheer force of her will like a ship on the rocks, and, suddenly, there were sides to take in his household. He found himself having terse words with his wife, words like, “No, she can’t come with you. No, she needs to study. Don’t you care whether she gets into a good school?” Words like, “I can’t believe you took her into the mountains. No, don’t tell me you’re sorry. You went behind my back.” Words like, “I’m sorry. Can we talk?”

Shane thought things were through after their first fight. They spent the night in the same bed, a foot apart but still painfully separate, their backs turned to each other. It felt like twisting a bone until it splintered. In the morning, she buried her face between his shoulderblades and apologized, and for the first time they lay in bed for more than an hour and just talked. Shane promised her he’d never shout at her again. She promised him she’d do better to respect his feelings.

The saloon did not want for Shane’s presence, but he no longer drank alone in a corner; he was waved over to Marnie’s table, or to check in with Sam and Penny, who tied the knot a year after he did. Morris and Joja Company had never returned to Pelican Town, and Shane had become something of a local presence; the other half of the agricultural powerhouse keeping the town aloft. In a moment of clarity, Shane realized with horror that these people were now his friends. One afternoon, after he and the farmer had tended to the spring harvest, Shane had looked into a mirror and realized that he was going a bit gray at the temples, and his face was beginning to crease with age.

The laugh lines, he had to admit, were a surprise.

Babies began to appear, as well: Shane was surprised to see Sam, now acting manager of the Community Center, bouncing one on his knee as he talked about the town’s budget with Henry. The town’s playground began to fill up with children, although Shane’s home remained free of them. He and the farmer had spent a long time discussing the prospect of children, but in the end, Shane’s mind was made up: Jas, as far as she was concerned, was his daughter, and she would not be replaced in his heart. The farmer, who was happy to indulge Jas’ need for adventure (and maybe chaperone a visit to the dwarf when Cousin Shane permitted it), did not mind.

And so, Shane shepherded his cousin into young adulthood. He watched her with pride as she studied at the farmer’s weathered kitchen table, her brow furrowed in concentration the same way her father’s used to. She took her exams, proctored by Penny (pregnant with her second), and she leaped into Shane’s arms when she got her acceptance letter from Zuzu State. The move-in was a family affair; Shane, the farmer, Marnie, and Lewis lugged several suitcases and a mini-fridge up two flights of stairs to her dorm, and as Shane grumbled to nobody in particular about the entirely new set of aches he was feeling, he made the conscious effort to keep certain thoughts out of his head.

“Jas,” Shane said, straightening his aching back after the last box was hauled up to her dorm, “you want to show us the dining hall? We should see the dining hall before we go.”

“Shane,” Marnie said gently, “you saw it during the tour.”

“But we ought to see it again,” Shane replied. “They always make it look good for the tours. I want to make sure it’s actually maintained after the fact. And the library; what’s the library like?”

“Shane,” Lewis said, resting a hand on his shoulder, “we ought to let Jas unpack and settle in.”

Shane looked at Jas. “Are you okay here? Alone?”

“I’m fine, Shane.” And then, Jas wrapped Shane in a tight hug. “I’m going to come home soon, okay?”

“You’d better.” Shane swallowed the lump in his throat. “And no partying. And call me, okay? I want to hear about how your classes are going.”

“I will,” Jas laughed softly. “And you tell me how your girls are doing, okay?”

“Okay.” Shane squeezed her again. “I mean it. No parties. And if you need anything—if you do go to a party and you need a ride, or you need someone to talk to, or if a boy is giving you problems, I don't care what time it is—”

“I’ll be okay!” Jas’ laughter popped out of her as he hugged her tighter. “No parties, I promise. I love you, Shane.”

“I love you too, kid.” Shane kissed the top of her head and, regretfully, let her go. “And don’t forget it.”

Shane was quiet for the ride back to Pelican Town, and for much of the night thereafter. He appreciated the farmer’s sense of propriety more than ever, because she left him alone, save for a gentle kiss before bed. But come the next day, her pragmatism intervened before long and she interrupted Shane in the midst of his melancholy.

“Shane!” She called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Shane, go get your girls!”

And Shane, moved to action, herded his hens away from his wife’s seedlings.

After the morning chores were finished, Shane saw his wife lingering at the porch, her sword absent, and recognized the invitation. He sat beside her, and she immediately laced her fingers through his.

“Empty nest?” The farmer asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I guess so.” Shane sighed heavily and rested his head on hers. He suddenly felt an awful weight in his chest. “I just never thought it would happen, you know? I mean, I knew she’d grow up, but I thought I’d have more time before I lost her.”

“Shane.” The farmer lifted his hand and kissed it. “There’s a difference between losing something and letting it go. You let Jas go today, but she’s going to come back. She has holidays, and breaks, and one day she’s going to break up with someone and need you to help her. She’s going to go become her own person, but that’s only because you let her go do it. Be proud of her.”

“I guess.” Shane wasn’t much in the mood to be proud. He suddenly felt lost. “Can I ask you a question?”

The farmer looked up at him quizzically. “Sure.”

“What do I do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Shane sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Jas is my goddaughter. I spent so much time making sure she was okay, that she had enough money to get by, that she would grow up, and now… she has.” Shane looked over the seedlings, new and green in the rows of earth before them. “So what do I do now?”

In response, the farmer gently disentangled herself from him and stood. “I want to show you something,” she said. Shane, too tired to resist, allowed her to tug him away from the porch, down the road, past Marnie’s farm, until their feet here tapping hollowly against the boards of the dock Shane used to sit on and drink, so many years ago. The farmer unceremoniously dropped down, her legs dangling over the edge of the dock, and she patted the edge beside her. “Sit,” she invited.

Glumly, Shane did so.

“Do you remember,” the farmer asked, “the first night I sat out here with you?”

“Sure,” Shane said, more to humor her than anything else.

“What was it like?” She pressed.

“Shitty,” Shane replied.

“Why?”

Shane sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Well, I had to work late that day, and my back hurt, and I was pissed…”

“And then I came along,” the farmer offered.

“And then you came along,” Shane continued, “and we drank for a while, and then I went to bed. Why?”

“What did you think your future was going to be like then?” The farmer asked.

“I don’t know.” Shane shrugged. “Still shitty.”

“Did you see it turning out this way?”

“No.” Shane looked over at his wife, saw the smirk on her face, and couldn’t help but laugh. “What?”

“Well, here.” The farmer reached out and took his hand in hers. “You couldn’t see a happy ending for yourself back then, but you still wound up here. Who knows what’s still out there for you to discover that you haven’t thought of yet?”

“Are you saying this is my happy ending?” Shane asked. "Or this is what happens after the happy ending?"

“No.” The farmer reached out and kissed him, gently. “You helped write Jas’ story, and now she gets to write her own adventure. Just like you helped me write mine. But now that Jas is off on her own, I think it’s time we think about on what we’re going to make together. Come on.” The farmer gently tugged him to his feet, pulling him forward, back to his life on the farm. “Our adventure is just beginning, too.”

And, hand in hand, they walked off into the bright blue autumn morning.