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LILIAN SAT AT THE FOOT OF THE WILLOW TREE at the far back of her family’s farm. It was a large farm, quite difficult to navigate for others but she had grown up in this land. She and her siblings had changed alongside the crops with each season. She had grown up with the animals. She had played with the village folks. She had gone down the mines at the age of five and watched her father dig up for treasures. This farm and this village was full of memories. It was her home.
And oh, how she felt constricted.
She knew that she couldn’t be like her cousin Oliver who left the island life to study how to be a doctor in the city or like her cousin Phillip whom, if she recalls correctly, was studying how to be a proper landowner. She knew that as the eldest, she would be bequeathed the farm but, for some reason, she felt that she could do better elsewhere.
And that, that was a thought she couldn’t afford.
Her cousin Anita was truly enviable. Iselia farm was beautiful and bountiful, and yet she’d risked everything to start from scratch. And her farm had grown into a beauty. Her stall at the bazaar boasts fresh produce from her farm and animals. She doesn’t have the same guts as she.
It would seem I am destined to remain here , she thought as she stood. And, oh, how I longed to be someone of my own merit.
Deep in her thoughts, she bumped over a farmhand.
“Ah, where are ye going, miss?” Holland said. “Ye should be careful not ta haff your head in the clouds too much.”
“I’m sorry,” she lowered her head. She made a move to leave but Holland reached an arm.
“Now, missie, what’s der matter?” His brows were knitted together and she knew that the fault was hers. The man was like a brother to her, having worked as a farmhand for her father during her toddler years.
“Nothing is.” She said quietly. “I just feel under the weather.”
“Now, come on, missie.” He said. “I’ve known ye since yer babe years. Yer quiet but not this sort. Yer acting quiet like the missus when she and yer pa had a fight. Did ye and yer pa squared?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It is nothing, really.”
The man did not say anything for a second’s time before he sighed and let her go. “Well, I’ll take yer word for it.” He said. “But if there’s any problem, ye know that your ma and pa will be there to listen to you, aye?”
She smiled. “I know.” But this is something that I doubt they’d approve of .
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Lillian locked herself in her bedroom that night. She stared at the pamphlet she’d secure when she’d last visited her dear Aunt Claire and her family in Mineral Town. It was one advertising a farm in a small town far beyond the valley. There was a vague description of the terrain of the two.
‘Welcome to a mountain of lush green forests and abundant wildlife. ’ The pamphlet read. ‘ Nestled at the foot of the mountain are two distinct villages. Land for sale. Contact XXX-XXXX-XXX’
She couldn’t help but remember stories from her aunt, about how the Zillia farm was a mess when it first started but she managed to save the farm and expand it to what it was now. And then her mind wandered to two years ago when she visited her cousin’s farm in Zephyr. Anita’s farm had also started as an empty lot but now boasts fresh plantations, mills, and animals. It was a beautiful farm, far cry from the small one she had described long back in her letters.
“I want that.” She whispered to herself. “I want to make something of myself by myself. I don’t want to be a legacy.”
Her father was a legacy, she recalled. He had earned his farm from her grandfather. Her mother, however, built everything by her own merits. From the library in Mineral town that is now manned by someone else, to the library she built down the village in Forget-Me-Not Valley. Her aunt Claire and aunt Chelsea started with nothing and built themselves great farms through their own hardwork.
She wondered if she would be able to be like them. And then she snorted, stuffing the pamphlet back at its place inside her bed table’s drawer. She was no risk taker. She couldn’t. She was not as strong minded as the other females of her father’s family.
But, she dearly wished she could actually be.
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Mary Sullivan-Adkins observed her surroundings. She had never thought this would be her life. Even after twenty two years of marriage, the woman had moments were she’d still think it was all a dream and she’d wake up soon - back to being eighteen and pining after the blacksmith’s grandson, Gray.
But no, this was her life and oh how she was grateful it was. She had a wonderful husband and four beautiful children. They were all special, really. And it would be wrong to say she had a favorite among her children. But if she did, it would definitely be her eldest.
Lillian was so much like her when she was a young lass. She was incredibly introverted then, locking herself in her castle of books. Even now, she would admit that there are times she would prefer being inside her library or their home than to interact with others.
But her daughter seemed to have a different problem all together. She was shy, but not to the point of keeping to herself. She loved interacting with others but she was subdued and often tongue-tied. She would not speak a word and no one would notice amongst her siblings’ chatters.
And at the current moment, her daughter was starting to be even more subdued. She would lock herself in her own world, not opening up even to her mother. It worries Mary greatly and she knew Jack sees it too.
“Oh, what are we to do with her?” Mary comments to her husband during one of their walk. “I fear Lillian is pulling away from us. Do you think it’s a teenage rebellion of sorts?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know.” He said. “She hasn’t talked to me at all. I didn’t really see much wrong with it. She stopped going to her pa since she reached her seventeenth year.”
“Jack!” Mary cried out. She knew that her husband truly did worry after their daughter despite his sardonic words. However, she needed him at full front with her on this topic. Her dearest daughter was important, and she was troubled.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said. “I jest. But truly, I’ve heard from Holland that he’d seen Lillian walk aimlessly around the farm for hours lost in her thoughts.”
“Maybe someone is courting her?” She thought out loud.
“Courting her?” He repeated. “My Lillian? Being courted by someone? Mayhaps I need to have the men on the lookout for this scoundrel.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Oh, Jack, stop it.” She said, and her tone changed to something serious. “But she hadn’t spoken any with me. And my dear petal always tells me everything. Recently, she stopped sitting down with me. She goes to her room and locks herself. I hear from her sisters that she stays in her bed for hours long. Usually I wouldn’t worry for I know there are times when she is too tired to even get up her bed. But now, when she doesn’t even confide in me?” She shook her head. “Oh, Jack, I worry. I truly do.”
Jack pulled her close to him. “Don’t worry, love, I shall try and get her to talk with me.”
Mary smiled. “Thank you.” She said. “But, please, do remember how your daughter’s mind is.”
“Hm?”
“Lillian is so much like me. Her mind conjures the worst conclusion at times. Try and not cause an attack on her nerves.”
“I know.” He said. “Don’t worry, I shall speak to her before supper. We’ll fix whatever it is that troubles her.”
———————————
“Lillian,” Her younger sister Daisy calls. “Pa wants to talk to you.”
Lillian stops her movement. She was behind the woodshed, chopping up wood. She suddenly felt as if all her energy left her. She put down the axe lest it falls and hit her feet instead.
“Why?” She asked, and it really was the question. Why was her father calling for her? Had she done something wrong? Was it during her state of mindless wander? She tried to recall all she’d done today and even the current week. She was sure that she still did her work well. Or maybe, she thought, he’d seen the flier she’d hidden inside her room.
Her eyes widened in fear. Was he disappointed? Was he disappointed she didn’t want the family farm? That she’d let her thoughts wander to fancy about another?
“I-I...” She stammered. “I can’t. I-I have too much work.” She’d pick up the axe.
Daisy rolled her eyes and with a strength that a fourteen years old should not have, easily took the axe from her. “Seriously, Lils, stop this. I’m not blind. I know you’re avoiding ma and pa. Everyone sees it. For the love of the Harvest King, sis, talk to them.”
“Nothing is wrong.” It stumbled out of her mouth.
“I never said anything was.” She replied. “Now go. Pa is inside the house. Ma’s out right now. Tuney and Laurie are playing by missus Lumina’s mansion. Go and have that talk. The two of you have the privacy and all that.”
Privacy to what? Disown her? Tell her how disappointed he was? Her father always talks about how she would continue the family business, how she was his pride and joy, how he’d live peacefully with her at the helm for Acorn farm.
The walk back to their house was a long one full of trepidation and worries.
She stared at the front door with deep foreboding. It was a feeling she was sadly familiar with. She sucked whatever terrible feeling she had and opened the door. She felt a heavy weight on her shoulder as she entered her own home, dragging her feet and hoping that her face doesn’t betray the sick feeling pooling in her stomach.
“Papa,” she called. “Is everything all right?” She winced at her own words.
“Sit down, Lillian. You and I need to talk.” She cringed at the severe town her father had.
“Papa, I-I understand that my mind has been on the clouds lately.” She started. “I apologize, it won’t happen ag—”
“Then why?” Her father cut her off. “Why are you acting like this? Lillian, I expected this from your sisters, but not you. Has something happened? Is there anything in your mind that weighs you down? Lillian, I need you to tell me so I can help you.”
“It’s nothing.” She replied.
“Don’t think me for a fool, Lillian Katherine.” He scolded. “Your mother and I are worried. This isn’t like you - your mind up in the clouds, not even talking to your mother, pulling away from us. Tell me, Lillian. What happened to cause this?
She flinched and stayed silent, unsure how to answer that. Because I’ve realized many things. Because I want to leave. Because this valley only knows me as the Adkins legacy. Because I want to be me. Because I love being your daughter but not being your shadow. Because I envy Oliver who knows what he wants and pursued it. Because I wish I had Anita’s courage to go after what she wants. Because, unlike Phillip, I can’t just be content with receiving this legacy. Because if you know of all this, you’d be disappointed in me. Because —
“Because I don’t want to be your legacy.” She heard someone say and it took her a while to realize that it was her. She realized that she had been thinking out loud and she was screaming at her father. And her mouth clamped in horror as she looked up and stared at her father’s face. It was painted with shock.
“What do you mean?” Her father reared back.
“I-I’m sorry!” And she stood to run, shame coloring her face.
“Wait! Lillian!”
She didn’t look back.
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Lillian sat behind the Sprite Tree, hiding from the world. She wept and knew immediately that she’d made a mistake. She sucked at this communication thing. She was the plain oldest Adkin daughter. The only thing she had going for her was helping with the farm. In comparison to her cousins, she wasn’t as intelligent as Oliver or as fiery as Anita or as socially liked as Phillip. She was just clumsy, awkward and without any plans for her future.
She let the sobs come out. It was hard. At the young age of 21, she had already found herself deciding that yes, she was bound to be a spinster. She was going to remain in her father’s farm, a burden to her family.
At age 21, her mother had built her first library with the help of her family. At age 21, her father already started taking care of the farm. At age 21 her aunts either left Forget-Me-Not Valley and bought their own lands or already planned on doing so. At age 21, Oliver had left the island and was studying medicine in the City. At age 21, Anita flourished on her own farm and had found a man she would one day marry. What in the world was she doing with her life? Nothing. Because that’s the only thing her life is equated to – nothing.
“Lillian,” She looked up, tear streaking down her face. Her mother’s worry was painted clearly on her face. “My darling petal, please talk to me.”
“Has Pa told you what I’d said?” She curled back and hid her face.
“We didn’t know you felt like that.” Her mother said, reaching for her. “You should’ve said something.”
“I’m sorry.” She cried. “I’m sorry for what I said. Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t hate me, Mama.”
Her mother stroked her hair. “There’s nothing you can do that will make us hate you.”
“I spoke out of turn.” She whispered. “I didn’t mean to. I was speaking of fancy. I was being ungrateful. I am so sorry.”
“Lillian,” She looked up, wide eyes as her father entered her line of vision. He had a severe look in his face and in his hands, she saw the pamphlet she’d been looking at.
“I’m sorry,” came tumbling out of her mouth. Lillian closed her eyes. “It’s not… It’s not what you think.”
“What am I thinking, Lillian?”
“That I am an ungrateful daughter who wishes no part of her father’s legacy.” She murmured, sniffling. Her mother shushed her, as she allowed herself to lay limp in her arms.
Her father knelt down, looking at her in the eyes. “I don’t think that. Why do you think I would?”
“Because I am!” And she broke away from her mother. “I am ungrateful. I fancy myself to be like aunt Chelsea or aunt Claire. I fancy myself starting my own legacy like Anita.”
Her mother said, “Why do you say that? Why do you say it is merely your fancy?”
“Because I am not like them.” She replied. “I am weak-willed. I am not as responsible as they are.”
“You are our daughter, Lillian.” Her father said. “You are strong and you are responsible. And I cannot fathom why you would not think we would support you?”
She gasped, head rising and eyes widening. “What… what are you saying?”
“Have you called the number?” He asked. “What sort of land do they have? How large is it?”
“Papa,” She said. “Are you… are you not mad at me for all that I’ve said?”
“I’m mad that I didn’t realize your pain.” He said. “But at you? For wishing for more? Would I not be a hypocrite?” He took her hand. “I believe, it is us who must apologize to you.”
Lillian blinked back her tears. “W-what? I – Papa, you never did anything wrong.”
“All these years, we made you feel like so. We made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about your troubles.” Her father said. “Above all, that’s our biggest mistake.”
Her mother wiped the tears that trickled down her cheeks and she was surprised that tears were falling down her eyes behind her glasses. “Darling, we’re so sorry. We’re so sorry, but we’re here now. We will always listen to you. We will love you no matter what.”
Her lips trembled and she cried. She had always been a loud crier. She let out every hurt. She ranted and spoke of every hurt and her every frustration poured out. She talked about her insecurities, about her envies, about her fears.
She looked down. “I want to try,” she whispered. “I want to but I don’t know how.” A bitter laugh crawled out of her throat. “Look at me, Papa, I am at the same age Anita was when she already helped the Grand Bazaar return to its former glory. Yet here I am, still afraid of my shadows. There are days I am too tired to get up from my bed. There are days I curl to myself without doing anything else.”
“Then, it’s all a matter of taking your first steps.” Her father said. “All your fears, Petal, that’s just it. It’s fears. If you don’t take the first step forward, you won’t know what will happen to your future.”
“You’re so strong, Lillian.” Her mother said. “You are an Adkins and a Sullivan. Yes, you do feel all those things, but at the end of the day, you stand up and work. You can do anything so long as you believe in yourself.”
Lillian smiled faintly. “I – truth be told, I had saved some money from when I went around town and sold what I’ve foraged. It was a fool’s hope, to buy my own land and create my own legacy. It’s not enough though. I’m sorry, I kept it a secret.”
“How much do you have?” Her head snapped up. “I’m sure we can work with it.”
Acorn Farm was a huge farm but they were, by no means, rich. They had farmhands they needed to pay. They had inventories they needed to buy. They had a family they needed to feed. They couldn’t possibly be saying what she thinks they are saying. She stammered out her thoughts.
“We’ll make it work.” Her parents looked so determined that she cried once more.