Chapter Text
You were more than happy to quit a 9-5.
Your grandfather, delightfully eclectic, had apparently left the family farm to him in his passing.
Or to anyone who wanted it, really. But the land was yours, set aside in a cozy little town with a population of… 30 people. You had visited several times in your childhood, enough to remember the summer seasons.
Sticky fingers after eating peaches from the tree out front.
Tall, tall buildings stretching across the property, housing tools and things beyond a child’s concern.
Parents picking you up after the two months of bliss, having to take care to bring an extra bag to fit all the home-made jams and juices.
Getting off the five-hour bus from Zuzu city, you stumbled through the door, bags and suitcases clanking noisily behind you, blinking rapidly against the bright spring sunlight.
A very nice woman with strawberry blonde hair, who eagerly introduces herself as Robin, and an older man beside her, who calls himself Lewis, are there to walk you to your new home.
“No one’s been over on this side of the town for a while,” Robin explains. “I can’t imagine the house is in very good shape-“
Lewis cuts her off with a stare.
“.. sorry, sorry.”
The rumbling of the suitcase wheels on the old cobblestone make for a good buffer. It’s not a long walk to the house at all, you notice.
“.. in any case, Robin is the town’s carpenter, so she will be more than happy to fix up the old shack.” Lewis says gleefully, clapping a hand on her shoulder.
Robin’s expression sours, but it’s clear the two are friends. “Right. I’m just up around the corner if you need anything.”
————
To be entirely honest, the house isn’t in too horrible of shape. Robin is dramatic, you conclude as you stand on the front porch. You turn a blind eye to the buildings stretched out in front of you- a coop, maybe a barn, and an absolute wreckage of what looks like the greenhouse you spent your summers in. That’s a problem for tomorrow, you decide before pushing open the front door of your new home.
Grandpa’s taste was truly reflective of his character, you note, as you wander through the house. Posters of fishing competitions litter the walls, paintings of faraway landscapes decorating the living area.
Lots of plants, which immediately pique your interest. Even in your cramped studio apartment in the city, you had craved whatever greenery you could find. A small ache settles in your chest when you think of the plants you couldn’t bring with you. Small cuttings are all you have left of the collection you were quite proud of. But, as you wander through the rooms, you notice the many windows. Opportunities for new growth, he’d probably call it. You smile faintly and look for the master bedroom.
To move onto a farm was an impulse decision; you had always craved the countryside, but had no experience to warrant the big change. So when the opportunity was thrust into your hands- accommodations, a familiar setting- the only logical option was to take it.
Even with your zero experience as a farmhand, you were determined to make this work.
————
You crash hard that night, sleep like a rock, and wake up with sunlight filtering through the curtains in the bedroom.
The day called for the emotionally heavy task of unloading your things after waking up in a bed that isn’t your own.
Making your grandfather’s space your own.
Thankfully, the main bedroom was left made-up, so you didn’t have much to worry about in terms of bedding.
You place your shirts where he would have put his. It feels strange to be so connected so someone you only have glimpses of.
You discard the clothes you think won’t fit your new life.
New life. What an odd thought.
Your experience on a farm is limited to what a seven-year-old could handle, but your grandfather was kind enough to leave behind journals and whatever farm-handy supplies he would regularly use- a pickaxe for the mines, as mentioned in his journal, an axe for the trees, and a decent fishing rod. He mentions how he bought a new hoe, and how it performs “like nothing he’s ever seen,” how his new scythe cuts the tall grass like butter. You flip through the journal, looking for a mention of any other supplies.
You’re sure he didn’t intend for anyone to read these, and with some guilt you read them over a simple breakfast of sliced peaches from the tree out front and coffee. He’s quite detailed with his journaling, you notice, leafing through the leather-bound book. What spring, summer, fall would look like- planting, harvesting, tending the animals. How the ducks in the coop play in the small pond. Birthdays of people in town, and what they’d love to receive.
Your grandfather loved this place with his heart and soul, and you’re going to do it justice.
Finishing your coffee, you take a peek at the clock.
Lewis- mayor Lewis, you silently correct- told you that town life starts early. Your grandfather had also written in his journals that these people rise with the sun.
No time to waste if you want to make a good first impression. You drop your plate in the sink and rush to the bathroom to take a shower.
You’d had the good sense to unpack your toiletries the night before to save stress, but it doesn’t do much to dull the feeling of.. what is it? Homesickness? Nostalgia?
Can you feel homesick for a place you’re in right now? You wonder as you lather up with the fancy soap you’ll have to travel back to Zuzu city to replenish.
You quickly shampoo and condition your hair; the brown curls get angry if you don’t, and you hadn’t done much to tame them the night before.
Stepping out of the shower, you grab a towel and wrap it low on your hips, heading back to the bedroom. Your bedroom.
Getting dressed takes longer than it should. Your closet is stuffed with city clothes that a city boy would wear. Of course, the people in your grandfather’s journals seem nice enough, but you want to make at least a small effort to look like you belong.
You put on your oldest pair of jeans, a white top, and an old leather jacket that was in the closet before you filled it out with your own shit.
No one who lives on a farm wears converse, but you’ll have to buy new shoes for farm life soon enough, so you may as well slip them on.
You close the door to the house behind you at 10am and leave to make your introductory rounds. As you exit your new home and start the trek into town, you pass by the coop and the barn. You take note of their condition, but don’t stop inside.
They seem to have been built (or at least renovated) fairly recently. The coop is large, large enough to hold at least 12 animals, and painted a deep blue, the roof shingled with mahogany brown.
The barn has the same roof, but it’s painted a maroon colour instead, and the coop is dwarfed in comparison. Lush green grass grows around hardwood fence that encloses but doesn’t encroach on the structures.
You pick up a few things some of the townsfolk enjoy along the way- leeks for George, some daisies for Jas, anything you could find that match with the journal- now serving as your personal guide to becoming part of the people.
You meander through the rest of the property until you come to another ranch. Marnie, you recognized the name from both the journals and your own memory.
Popping in to say hello, you’re met with a woman nearly an entire foot shorter than you, with wild brown hair and warm blue eyes. She hands you some cookies and explains the basics of farm animal caretaking.
“You make sure to get all your supplies from me,” the shorter woman says before handing you a milk pail- free of charge to make your adjustments a little easier.
“Animals like heaters in the wintertime, you write that down somewhere.”
As you nod along to Marnie’s words, a small girl, who can’t have been older than 5, catches the corner of your eye.
Marnie follows your gaze.
“That’s Jas,” she says as she beckons the young girl over. “Jas, honey, say hello to our new neighbor.”
Jas looks at you with wide blue eyes, fists curling at the hem of her dress.
There’s a beat of silence, before you realize you’re the adult in the scenario, and therefore should take the lead.
You drop a knee, getting down to her level.
“Someone told me you like flowers,” you whisper conspiratorially.
Jas hesitates, then nods.
“I’m very sorry to have such slim pickings at the moment, but I’ll make sure to grow some pretty ones when I get the farm up and running,” you say as you hand her the small clump of daisies.
“How’s that sound?”
Jas seems to like this, which is relieving- you’ve always thought kids are excellent judges of character.
Marnie smiles, and you smile back.
“I’ll be sure to drop by if I need any help. Thanks for everything. Let me know if you need anything, anything at all.”
You stand, brush your knees, thank everyone you saw, and head to the next house.
Your next stop is 1 Willow Lane, a quaint blue house overlooking the river. You knock once at the door and wait for a response.
You hear the frantic yelling of a mother and the shrieking of a child before everything goes quiet.
The door swings open to reveal a woman with honey brown hair tucked in a low side pony and a tired smile.
“You must be the new farmer. I’m Jodi, welcome to town.”
She ushers you inside and makes you tea. You wonder silently if everyone in town is this hospitable.
You talk with Jodi until her son’s (the creature behind the shrieking you heard before) curiosity gets the better of him and he joins you two in the kitchen.
The boy- Vincent- has messy hair the same colour as his mother, and large green eyes that look at you like you’re an exciting new specimen.
You offer him a cookie from Marnie, and he eagerly snatches it up. You smile.
“The whole town’s abuzz with your arrival,”
Jodi takes a sip of her tea. You wince, and she laughs.
“We don’t get new people here very often. Or ever, really.” She scratches her jaw. “Can’t blame us for the curiosity, can you?”
Vincent has seemingly lost interest in the conversation and goes to his room. Jodi pays him no mind, and you don’t either.
“No, I… suppose not.” You agree, taking a sip of your own tea. She smiles warmly.
“You’ll have to meet my son, Sam. He’s around your age. I’m sure you two will be fast friends.”
You nod eagerly- your grandfather’s journal referred to young children in the town. Depending on how far back they were written, they must be around your age by now.
You thank her for the tea, and head to the next house.
You knock once at 2 Willow Lane, and are greeted by an… interesting woman, with bright blue hair.
“You must be Mio!”
You freeze for a second before nodding.
“Oh, I knew you’d be stopping by. Come in, come in! Haley! The new farmer’s here!”
You’re led into the living room by your arm. Emily’s grip is not to be messed with.
You’re practically quizzed by the blue-haired sister.
“Where did you move from?”
“What was the city like?”
“What’s your star sign?”
It becomes increasingly obvious what exactly you’re faced with. You smile somewhat nervously and try your best to answer all her questions.
Haley, who appears to be much more mainstream, is not as welcoming as her sister, instead choosing to make lunch for herself in the kitchen and ignore you entirely.
“I, um.” You clear your throat. “I brought.. gifts. Thought I’d make a good impression.”
You rake your hand through your hair, pulling out some dandelions.
Haley’s eyes snap over like lightning.
Emily makes an “awww” sound.
Haley flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder, murmuring something that looks like a thank-you.
You nod, exchanging pleasantries, and head to the next.
Evelyn and George are a very sweet couple, you learn. George gruffly thanks you for the leeks, and Evelyn sends you on your way with baked goods that rival Marnie’s.
On your way out, you meet Alex- another man your age. Relieving.
You head to Pierre’s, the general store in town, and pick up some seeds with the limited funds you brought with you. You exchange words with him, his wife Caroline, and his daughter, Abigail, who had just come back from the mines.
“Unsuccessful again?” Pierre teases.
The purple-haired girl shoots him a glare that could kill a weak animal before huffing and going to her room.
Caroline swats him, and he just laughs.
——-
The day is long, but rewarding. You meet new people, new friends, and familiarize yourself with the place you’re living in.
After dropping by the hospital around 1 to get your annual checkup sorted, you head to the saloon.
It’s run by a very friendly man named Gus, whose presence immediately puts you at ease.
Slowly but surely, the saloon fills up, and you meet everyone in town you didn’t get a chance to interact with earlier in the day.
You chat idly with Sam, Jodi’s other son, about how you came to live in the town. You buy a pizza for the table; still desperate to make some friends.
In the middle of your conversation with Sam about acoustic guitars, the blond’s gaze shifts to the saloon door, and he grins.
“Seb! Didn’t think you’d be popping by, man!”