Roses and Sonatas [Harvest Moon: Tale of Two Towns]

Chapter 12

The next morning I awoke feeling vaguely apprehensive, then I remembered it was the day I planned to talk to Mikhail. I jumped out of bed, and after a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, I headed out to do my farm chores. After my morning routine was finished, I hurried back to my house, tossed together a simple lunch of fresh, crisp herb salad as a birthday gift. I packed it up in a tightly sealed container to keep it fresh and headed on up the mountain. It was just before noon, so I knew I'd reach the mountaintop soon after him if I took it easy and didn't urge Nimbus to hurry along the trail.

As expected, I arrived just in time to see him climbing up the boulder that was his preferred perch to sit and contemplate the view. I grabbed the salad I'd made and scrambled up next to him, and after we exchanged greetings, I wished him a happy birthday and gave him the salad. He smiled, saying "You remembered the kind of foods I like. Thank you, Alice, it's very thoughtful of you." He hesitated for a minute, then said, "So... will you stay and visit with me for a while?"

Taking a deep breath, I replied, "Yes, I would like that. I want to talk with you. But it's a little warm today, so why don't we go over to the spring where it's shadier?" I suggested. He smiled in agreement and slid back down, then held out his hand to help me down. We strolled over to the spring and sat in the shade of a broad tree splendid with golden leaves. I told him to please go ahead and eat while it was fresh. He offered to share, but I declined, saying I wasn't hungry. He looked skeptical, but he opened the container and began to eat. I'd nearly forgotten how daintily he ate, how fastidious he was in his personal habits. He ate slowly and tidily, savoring each small bite as if it was the last he would ever taste.

After a few minutes, I cleared my throat. He set his fork down and looked at me expectantly. "No, please, go ahead and keep eating. I do want to talk to you, though, so if you don't mind me talking while you eat... ?"

"By all means, then," he said, picking his fork up again and taking another small bite.

I looked off towards the mountain peaks in the distance for a moment, then I said, "Mikhail, this... this just isn't working. I can't take it anymore. The strain is driving me out of my mind. I don't know if you are doing it intentionally... " he looked up at me and raised an eyebrow in surprise at the suggestion, "or not. But either way, something needs to change."

"What is it that I'm doing that is so devastating?" he interrupted to ask.

"You.... Oh, how can I explain without sounding like an idiot? It's a lot of little things: a meaningful look here, a suggestive phrase there... innuendos and subtle hints. Nothing concrete or substantial, and nothing that anyone besides me would pick up on, if they even noticed. Using the language of flowers to convey messages, like we used to do... and, well, like at the music festival, when you played our old songs and looked me right in the eyes when you talked about them being so important to you. Things like that. Since we're supposed to be keeping our history a secret, it's really hard for me to have you constantly alluding to it in some sort of code. I'm getting so that I'm almost afraid to leave my farm for fear of bumping into you and enduring more of your suggestions. Yet it's so nebulous that it's hard to pinpoint any one thing. So... I've decided that I no longer want to keep our history a secret. I don't mean we have to stand at the village gates shouting it out to any and all passersby. But... the first time an opening comes up in conversation, I intend to take the opportunity to come clean. I've... I've already told a few people. People who are especially close to me, and that I wanted to be sure heard it from me, not through the rumor mill. I hope you don't object, but... but even if you don't like it, I plan to do it anyway. It's the only way I can see to salvage my sanity without becoming a total hermit."

I looked over at him, flushed with embarrassment and uncertainty. He had finished his salad and put the container and fork aside, and he was gazing down at the glassy surface of the small pond. After a minute, he looked over at me with a hint of regret in his eyes, and said, "I'm sorry. I admit I enjoyed our secret. Perhaps I toyed with it too much, because it was the only bond left between us. And now I'm losing that, too. But I do understand, and I won't stop you or deny the truth if anyone asks. Neither will I bring it up myself, though. I still hope that someday.... Anyway, I didn't mean to cause you distress, and for that, I sincerely apologize."

He stood up, returned the dishes to me, and brushed the grass and bits of leaves from his trousers, saying, "Well. I believe I'll return to town now. I'll see you soon, I hope? And thanks for the birthday present. It's nice to be remembered." He held out a hand to pull me up, then he turned and headed down the path back to the village. I watched him go, then mounted Nimbus and headed slowly down to Bluebell.

A week or so after our talk, Konohana held its annual Flower Festival. It was a day to show appreciation and affection to others with gifts of flowers. With the language of flowers ever present in my thoughts, I had set aside a good crop of pink roses, symbolizing friendship, for my Konohanian friends. I knew that few, if any, would understand the symbolism—but it pleased my fancy to use it anyway. I decided, however, that I'd give different flowers to Mikhail, and although he didn't live in Konohana, I decided to give some to Cam as well. He always appreciated flowers, and I curious to find out if he would understand the hidden meaning. So for both of them, I carefully assembled small nosegays of heart's ease ("think of me"), forget-me-nots ("remember me"), and ferns ("sincerity") with a single dark pink rose ("thankful") in the center.

I gathered up my flowers and made my way through the village, handing them out as I stopped to chat briefly with each villager. While all were delighted with my gifts, as expected none seemed to pick up on the symbolism, with the exception of Mikhail. When I caught up to him on the way to the mountain peak and handed him the pretty little bouquet, he looked carefully at it, then looked me in the eyes and said, "My dearest Alice, I will never forget you, and you are constantly in my thoughts." I blushed, then he kissed my hand and continued on his way without another word.

I rode on into Bluebell, where I found Cam at his shop. I presented him with the flowers and explained that although he didn't live in Konohana and so didn't celebrate our festivals, I wanted to give him flowers in honor of the day, anyway. He looked at them, gave me a curious look, then smiled. "Thank you, Alice," he responded. "They're lovely. And... fitting." Then he turned to a customer who had just strolled up, and I knew he had indeed understood my message.

I returned home that evening, and to my surprise, I found a single gorgeous rose mallow left at my door. The only note that accompanied it was a simple musical notation—a few bars from Mikhail's composition that he had debuted at the music festival. That told me who had left it, and I understood his reply: "consumed by love."