He’d done it. He’d actually done it.

Charlie stood on the rickety front porch of his new home, amazed by the silence now that the mayor and that carpenter had left. Save the wind blowing through the trees— God, there were a lot of trees! —there wasn’t a sound to be heard: no passing cars, no upstairs neighbors, no sirens blaring. It was just him, his thoughts, and a backpack full of slightly rusty old tools. Just his own muscle, and a packet of parsnip seeds, and the deed to this overgrown patch of dirt.

“Oh, shit,” he said out loud, as the weight of it all finally crashed down on him. He sat heavily on the porch steps. What had he done? Charlie had hated everything about his life, it was true—hated his pointless, boring job; hated his lonely little beige apartment; hated the sameness of it all, stretching into the future as far as he could imagine—but it had been his life, had been something he knew. Staring out over the acres of weeds and rocks, he tried to grasp at that feeling that had burned so brightly in his chest just three weeks ago, that feeling when he’d looked at his future and said no. Not this, anything but this. But that determined voice was now as silent as the trees around him.

He’d never felt more alone.

Charlie had imagined he’d feel free, when there were no more alarms to set, no more PTO to request, no more congested rush-hour commutes. Instead, he felt adrift. There wasn’t one single person to tell him what to do, and he had no idea where to start. Why the hell had he thought he could hack it as a farmer, of all things? What kind of quarter-to-third-life crisis was this? Didn’t people normally just buy a stupidly expensive car? Maybe his friends and his mom had been right; maybe this had been a ridiculous idea. He’d thought of himself as a reasonably confident person, but it was failing him now. Maybe he should have a beer. Maybe he should have a cry.

Fighting down the wave of despair, Charlie opened the backpack and rummaged through it, as though the instructions for his new life might be written down somewhere. They weren’t, but he did find the letter again, the one from his grandfather that had led him to turn his whole life upside down. He read it again, feeling a tiny comfort from the familiar handwriting. When he finished, he tucked it into his shirt pocket. That was new, too: he’d given away most of his old clothes, trading businesslike button-downs and wool slacks for sturdy denim and flannel. At the time, he’d felt practical and outdoorsy. Now, wearing the plaid flannel shirt for the first time in his life, he felt like he’d put on a costume. Thank God he hadn’t talked himself into overalls.

“The only difference between a farmer and someone dressed up as a farmer,” Charlie said, out loud again, “is that one of them actually farms.” Instantly, he was grateful there was no one around to hear him; in his head it had sounded profound, but spoken it just made him sound like an idiot. He hoped he wasn’t going to turn into some kind of monologuing hermit. Still, though: there was something to it, wasn’t there? If he wanted to be a farmer, he needed to actually start doing it. He picked up the packet of parsnip seeds, looked out over the weedy land again, then put them down again. Start small. There’s gotta be something you know how to do.

A big rock a few feet away caught his eye. He wasn’t going to be growing anything with the ground still full of rocks. Standing up, he heaved the rusty old pickaxe onto his shoulder and waded out into the weeds. He might not know how to grow food; he might not know how to keep things alive; he might not know how to be in control of his own life; but he definitely knew how to break shit. And right now, hitting something really hard a bunch of times sounded like the best therapy he could afford.

^°^°^°^°^°^°^°^

Charlie flopped into bed five hours later, having spent the entire evening breaking up rocks and hauling them into a pile behind the house. He was drenched in sweat and his shoulders burned, but he had cleared out a decent little chunk of dirt, and he felt satisfied. He’d shoved a granola bar into his mouth two hours ago—thank God he’d brought some snacks, this house didn’t even have a kitchen— and even his current hunger was outweighed by his exhaustion. Tomorrow he’d wake up, find breakfast somewhere, and get back to work on the rest of the rocks. He fell asleep almost instantly, content with that plan.

It was a good plan, but the moment Charlie woke up, he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Before he’d even opened his eyes, his muscles began screaming at him. The ache in his shoulders had been joined by pain in his back, arms, and legs, and his hands were blistered from swinging the pickaxe. Even if he’d wanted to power through the aching muscles, there was no way he could wield tools with such painful hands. He groaned in frustration, burying his face into the pillow. Good job, city boy, he thought. One day on the farm and you’re already out of commission.

Well, at the very least he could establish a routine. He looked at the clock, expecting it to be mid-morning, and was surprised to see that it was only 6:10. Apparently, the exhaustion-induced early bedtime and the morning light streaming brightly in through his window had made an early riser of him. In spite of his aching body, he felt well-rested.

After pulling on fresh clothes and splashing his face with water from the pump outside—gingerly, avoiding the blisters on his hands—he peered into his backpack, still slumped on the front porch. None of the snacks he’d brought from his old apartment felt adequate for his first breakfast on the farm, so he pulled the pack onto his sore shoulders and set out on foot towards where he thought the town was.

Now that productivity and a good night’s sleep had chased away a little of the existential crisis, it was quite lovely here, really. The stretch of road between his farm and the town was flat and lined with shady trees, and the breeze felt wonderful on his face. He crunched along through the gravel for half an hour, letting his thoughts wander. He didn’t meet another soul on the road, and wasn’t sure whether that was a relief or not. The solitude was a nice change from Zuzu City, but he was beginning to feel a little lonely. He wondered what the townspeople were like. Would they be excited for some new blood in town, or suspicious of outsiders? Would there be anyone near his own age? He’d more or less put aside the idea of finding any romantic partners; it was a small town, after all, and he wasn’t sure how open-minded they would be. Still, he hoped he could make some friends.

Eventually, more sunlight began spilling down the path ahead, and the trees opened up to a cobblestoned square. A handful of buildings dotted the edges: a store, what looked like a clinic, and aha— a saloon. He only hoped it would be open so early, and that any nearby townsfolk wouldn’t assume he was a lush. Crossing the square, he pushed open the saloon’s heavy wooden door. His relief at finding it open was short-lived, though; there was no one in sight. He stepped inside, peering behind the bar and down a corridor leading to what looked like a storage room, but the place looked deserted.

“Hello?” he called, but there was no answer. Feeling it was a bit premature to go snooping around the back rooms, Charlie left the building. His stomach gave a rumble of protest. Maybe the store would be open? He didn’t have a kitchen, but if he could even find some bread or fruit or something...He crossed to the shop’s door, but no luck. The posted schedule declared it wouldn’t open for another hour.

“Need some help?” asked a voice behind him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning around, he saw a small young woman in a nurse’s uniform, dark eyes peering at him curiously from behind her glasses. She stood in the doorway of the clinic, propping it open with her hip. Charlie shook off his embarrassment at how badly he’d startled, and walked forward with his hand outstretched.

“I think so, actually,” he said, with a rueful smile. “I’m Charlie, I’m new in town. Just moved onto the old farm out west?”

“Oh, the new farmer!” the young woman exclaimed, shaking his hand with enthusiasm. “It’s so nice to meet you. Everyone’s been talking about it for weeks.”

“What, really?”

“Afraid so,” she replied conspiratorially. “We don’t get many newcomers around here. I think Shane was the last one, and...well.” She gave a lopsided shrug that Charlie wasn’t sure how to interpret. “I’m Maru. I live up in the mountains with my parents, but I work here at the clinic.”

“Great to meet you.” Charlie glanced back over at the saloon, stomach still growling. “Hey, weird question. I just went into the saloon—I can’t remember what it’s called, that one over—”

“The Stardrop,” Maru interrupted, with a little grin. “Don’t worry, there’s just the one.”

“Right, of course. Well, anyway. I went in, but there was nobody there! Door was unlocked and everything. Do you think something’s wrong, or…?”

Maru smiled again, shaking her head. “Nah, no problems, Gus is just in here for his checkup. He should be done any minute, he was the first appointment of the day.”

“And he just...left the door unlocked?”

“Oh, yeah. Not many locked doors around here.” She laughed and stood aside, holding the door open. “You’ll get used to it. Want to come in and wait? You can meet Gus and Harvey.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother—”

“I’ve got coffee,” she added, and Charlie filed inside behind her.

^°^°^°^°^°^°^°^

“You sure I can’t convince you to come by the Stardrop tonight, doc?” Gus asked, squeezing through the exam room door as Harvey held it open. “Just got a few new wines in. On the house.”

Harvey gave a noncommittal hum as he followed him down the corridor toward the waiting room. “Thanks, Gus. Maybe this weekend.” As they neared the end of the hall, Harvey heard Maru laughing—but was surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice laughing with her. He didn’t think there were any unfamiliar voices left in Pelican Town.

“And then,” the voice was saying, “he just walked off and left me with these parsnip seeds, and it all hit me, like—I have no idea how to grow anything!”

“You’ve never even gardened before?” Maru gasped, mid-laugh. “You dropped everything and moved here without even knowing how seeds work?”

“I guess I thought, how hard can it be?”

Gus pushed through the waiting room door ahead of Harvey, booming out a “Why, hello there!” in his baritone voice. As Harvey rounded the doorframe, he stopped dead in his tracks, and didn’t hear the newcomer’s reply over the sudden pounding of his heart. Standing against the counter, laughing with Maru as though they’d been friends for years, was a man he’d never seen before. He wore a broad smile on his slightly sunburned face, and Harvey thought he could make out a dusting of freckles beneath the pink. A shock of messy auburn curls spilled over his warm brown eyes. Harvey lost track of how long he stood there, staring like an idiot, but in his defense he hadn’t expected to see a gloriously beautiful stranger standing in his office at eight in the morning.

“Um,” Maru said, jolting him out of his reverie, and he realized that Gus and the stranger had stopped talking. Everyone was looking at him expectantly, as though he’d been asked a question and been too busy gawking to notice. Fortunately, Maru rolled her eyes and took the situation in hand. “This is Harvey, the town doctor. He does speak, occasionally. Harvey, this is that new farmer Mayor Lewis mentioned.”

The newcomer smiled at him, a little tentatively, and came forward to offer a handshake. “Charlie. Nice to meet you, Harvey.”

“Yes, you too!” Harvey responded, in a bizarrely cheerful voice that sounded nothing like his own. Both Maru and Gus glanced at him curiously. He cleared his throat and shook Charlie’s hand, hoping his face wasn’t as red as he thought it was. In the back of his mind, his doctor voice pointed out the blisters he could feel on Charlie’s palm, but he pushed it aside; a bit early to be offering unsolicited medical advice. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Sorry. I haven’t, uh, had any coffee yet this morning.”

Charlie picked up a mug on the counter, gesturing with it. “Just finished mine,” he said. “Maru’s a lifesaver. Now if I could just find some breakfast, I’d be all set.” At this, Gus clapped him on the shoulder as though they were old friends.

“I can help with that, farmer Charlie!” he declared, and began steering Charlie toward the door. “On the house, I insist. Nobody moves to my village and pays for their first meal.” Charlie looked slightly startled by this outburst, but threw a smile over his shoulder at Maru and Harvey as he was towed along in Gus’s wake.

“Thanks again for the coffee, Maru! See you soon. You too, Doctor Harvey.” The bell on the door jingled as it swept shut behind them, and Harvey stood in a daze, feeling as though a small tornado had just swept through.

“Wow,” Maru said, and Harvey snapped out of it; she was smirking at him in a way that couldn’t bode well. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What are you talking about?” Harvey asked defensively, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

“You should have seen your face, doc. Might as well have had cartoon hearts in your eyes.”

“That’s ridi—”

“You’ll be doodling your initials together on your prescription pad before the week is out.”

“Maru!”

“I mean, it’s understandable. He was pretty.”

“He wasn’t—I wasn’t—”

“Maybe try a little harder to talk to him next time, though.”

“You are fired,” Harvey hissed, retreating through the swinging door to the back of the clinic. Maru laughed as she swiveled back to face the counter.

“Whatever you say, boss,” she called, and began filing her paperwork for the day.