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

Chapter 16

The beginning of any new season was a hectic time for me, and winter was no exception. I had to get my winter crops planted quickly before the weather turned too cold and the ground froze, plus I still had my usual chores and errands to do. At least there wasn't really anything to forage once the last of the mushrooms and nuts were gone, so I didn't spend as much time on the mountain. Which was just as well, since riding over the mountain through the snow was no joke.

When I finally made it to Bluebell on the first clear day of the season, I found Eileen had left another message on the board for me to come talk to her, so I headed straight over to her house. As she pushed a steaming cup of tea into my shivering hands and steered me towards a chair near the fireplace, she told me that she'd been inspecting the tunnel, and that she thought it was safe to clear out some more of the blockage now. "I just need you to get the materials for me, and I can begin 'Phase 2' of 'Operation Shortcut'!" she said. I laughed and asked what she needed. She gave me the list, and again I had all the materials available—back at my farm, of course.

The next day was clear, too, so I packed everything up and set off over the mountain, walking alongside Nimbus as she pulled my cart over the snowy trail. As soon as I reached Eileen and gave her the supplies she'd requested, we went straight over to the Bluebell entrance to the tunnel. After quickly shoveling the snow away from the opening, she got right to work.

As she had done before, she cleared a section first from the Bluebell side. Then we returned to Konohana, where she worked on the tunnel from that side, too. "Once more will do it, I think! I just need to give it some time to settle and stabilize again, same as before. We don't want to rush it and have it collapse again. But we're almost there, Alice! I'll inspect it as soon as the winter snows have melted." Eileen said excitedly. And indeed, I felt a keen anticipation for the next season, and I hoped that the tunnel would be ready for the final stage by then.

The tunnel wasn't the only thing that had been undergoing improvements, either. Everyone had noticed by this point that the mayors were quarreling less and less, and were in fact almost friendly toward each other, their interactions characterized more by a good-natured bantering than by bickering now. This, I was sure, was a relief to everyone in both villages, and with the prospect of the tunnel through the mountain reopening in the not-too-distant future, relations were better than they had been in several generations between the two towns.

As busy as I was, I didn't see much of Kana for several days after I rejected his proposal. I wanted to give him some space, too, and not push my companionship on him while he was still hurting. But I missed his company terribly, so after several days, I decided to try to extend an olive branch, to see if he was interested in being friends again. I picked up a few "bombers" of his favorite beer from Yun's shop, and attaching a note to one of the large bottles, I set it on his stoop, knocked on his door, and high-tailed it out of sight. The note just said "I'm sorry for everything. I miss your smile. Can we still be friends? If so, will you join me for dinner? I'm making a spicy curry." I was nervous and jumpy as I waited, listening for his footsteps, not even knowing whether he'd come. I knew he was at home when I delivered the message—I'd heard his front door as I vanished down my drive. But... I didn't know if he was ready to see me. Or for that matter, if he ever would be.

I went ahead and made the curry—I had to eat, anyway, and I liked spicy food nearly as much as he did. When I finally heard footsteps crunching through the snow on my drive, I felt a thrill of relief mingled with nervous anticipation. A moment later, there was a knock on my door, and I threw it open. Standing on my porch was Kana, looking a little embarrassed and awkward—unusual for him. But still, he came, and that was the important thing. I invited him in, poured him a glass of beer, and we sat down at my table. I said that the curry would be ready soon, and he just nodded, looking down at his beer as if not knowing what to say. And neither did I, to be honest. It wasn't easy to just go back to being friends after something like that. I felt guilty, too—he didn't seem as hale and hearty as usual. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and I thought he might even have lost some weight.