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When Molly woke, it was to too much.
The too-heavy scent of lavender filling the air around her, too many voices overlapping in the distance, that were too indistinct for her to make out.
And too much drool puddled on the pillow she was resting upon, that was definitely not hers.
A door opened, and the voices that she now recognized as Anissa and Craig came closer.
Marimba Farm…? How did I…? Hazy thoughts crossed her mind as she hastily wiped at her mouth and clumsily sat up.
“Well, well, look who’s awake,” Craig commented as Anissa set the small tray she was carrying on the nightstand. “See, she’s fine,” he told his daughter, as if Molly wasn’t right there, able to speak for herself. “Just overworked. Typical rookie mistake.”
“Are you fine?” Anissa asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Molly. Clearly she wasn’t about to take her dad’s word for anything.
Oddly enough, Molly found she was able to answer, groggily yet truthfully, “Yeah… yeah, I think I am.” She looked to the tray Anissa had brought. The savory-sweet smell of corn muffins wafted from the bowl, alongside what had to be a cup of tea, judging by the steaming liquid’s color. “What’s all this? Breakfast in bed?”
“Breakfast?” Anissa repeated, laughing lightly. “Mom’s already starting to put dinner together. You’ve been sleeping all morning.”
“I… what?” Molly blinked, carefully withdrawing one of the warm muffins. Just now, she noticed how the slant of sunlight through the windows stretched long shadows over her arms. She’d learned to tell time via the sun last year, and Anissa was right: it was well after breakfast, and even lunch.
“Morning and afternoon,” Craig corrected his daughter. “Yeah, you were out like a light when that fortune teller showed up at our door step with you, bright and early. Sun was barely up and here you were, down for the count.”
Anissa smoothed over Craig’s explanation by adding how Jin had been called posthaste, and come by to examine an unconscious Molly. But all Molly could fixate on, as she took big, undignified bites out of her corn muffin, was that it was the Wizard who’d brought her here. She couldn’t recall seeing him—even if part of the reason for her excursion into the forest had been to find him a Fugue Mushroom, since he and the Witch had been squabbling over one.
“So what was wrong with me?” Molly asked, sipping from her tea. It was a mixture of herbs—of course it was, if Anissa made it—and sweet from a bit of honey stirred in. She didn’t doubt that it had some medicinal properties to it, although it tasted infinitely better than anything she might be prescribed at the Choral Clinic.
“Jin couldn’t find anything actually wrong with you,” Anissa assured her. “No injuries or other abnormalities. You’d just… well, you—”
“You wiped out,” Craig finished. “Sounds like all you really needed was a good nap, slacker.”
“She wasn’t slacking,” Anissa countered. “She was probably simply dehydrated. And don't be a hypocrite: Mom had to call you three times to help with dinner on Saturday.” She looked at Molly, and added, “He’d been watching a Sprite Rangers marathon with Taylor and fell asleep.”
“No I didn’t,” he said with a huff. “I was just resting my eyes.”
“Well, I dunno, Craig.” Molly giggled and picked out a second corn muffin. “Maybe a little afternoon nap wouldn’t hurt you. It might make you less cranky.”
Craig’s brows creased together. “Bah, I earned it, after a hard day’s work. There’s no way you got everything done that early, with those scrawny arms of yours.”
Molly’s arms—and legs, and the rest of her—were considerably more defined than they’d been last Spring, when she’d first arrived on Castanet. She might even have more muscle than Craig at this point, but that wasn’t worth debating right now, not when the truth of his statement hit her like a ton of bricks.
She hadn’t finished taking care of her chores for the day.
Her widening eyes immediately gave away that Craig was right. He sighed, but she tried to explain anyway. “No, I mean, I… I have to take care of…” Her thoughts were zipping around a mile a minute, and if she wasn’t fully awake before, she was now. “I already fed my animals, but my crops… I was gonna do it when I got back from the Forest. Before I went into town.”
It was her usual routine: stopping in her barn and coop first thing, then tending to her crops after any morning trips to Flute Fields—or the adjacent Fugue Forest—and spending the afternoon either in Harmonica Town or the Garmon Mines.
“You haven’t watered anything yet?”
“There’s still plenty of daylight,” Molly said, knowing that wasn’t entirely true—and that she wasn’t actually answering the question. “If I leave now, I can—”
“Save it,” Craig interrupted. He looked over at Anissa. “Didn’t that doctor of yours say he wanted to give her a once-over before she hit the road?”
“H-He’s not my doctor…!” Anissa stammered. “But, yes, I should go call and let him know you’re awake, Molly.”
“And then I can go?”
“Well, no.” Anissa sighed. “Mom was pretty insistent that you have dinner with us, if you woke up on time.”
“See,” Craig added before Molly could respond. “You’re obviously not gonna get a darn thing done today.”
Molly doused her frustration with a sip of tea. His assumption, true as it might be, stung; she’d been here a whole year now, and after all she’d done for Marimba Farm and this whole damn island, if Craig was still going to pass judgment on her for forgoing a day on her farm (for the first time since she’d arrived, too!) instead of showing her a little compassion, then he could get bent.
“Yeah, yeah, gripe all you want, but I’m not gonna let all those cabbage seeds you bought from us just go to waste.” Glancing over at Anissa, he added, “Besides, between your mom and the doctor, I’m just gonna be in the way if I hang around here.”
Upon realizing what Craig really meant, Molly swallowed her tea a little too fast and sputtered a cough. “Wait a minute…! Craig, you don’t have to—”
“Listen, stringbean, the sooner I’m outta here, the better for everyone.” Craig looked a bit smug, that he’d managed to surprise not only Molly, but his daughter too. “Anissa, go ring up the doctor before it’s too late—and tell him to bring his appetite along with his medicine; you already know your mom’s gonna see to it that he stays for dinner too.”
For as much as Molly’s instinct was to argue, even more did she feel the urge to cry. Not because Craig had scolded her but because he was being so adamant about helping her, even if it was in his own weird, prickly way.
And because it was so ridiculous; she knew if it were the other way around—if Craig were laid up with a cold or had injured himself—that he wouldn’t be listening to a word from anyone (except maybe some loud ones from Ruth) telling him that they’d step in and do his job for him while he took it easy.
In the moments that it took Molly’s embarrassment to ebb away, Craig had already said his goodbyes to her and Anissa, leaving the two girls in what would have been an awkward silence, if Anissa had an ounce of awkwardness to her.
Molly was the first to speak. “So, there isn’t any chance I could just like… pass out again, right? So I don’t have to hear your dad gloating once he gets back.”
“He won’t do that, Molly,” Anissa said gently. “I know he acts as if it’s all about your farm, but he was worried about you too.”
“Sorry, I’m having trouble picturing that.”
“I don’t blame you. But he wouldn’t be so tough if he didn’t care.”
“Uh-huh,” Molly replied skeptically, and finished off her tea, setting it aside with a faint clink! “Well, remember that if he decides to grill Jin tonight.”
Anissa groaned. “On second thought, passing out the rest of the night doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”
Once Anissa headed out to call Jin, Molly dug into her second muffin. There were three in the bowl, and she figured Ruth wouldn’t have given them to her if she wasn’t meant to eat all of them.
She hadn’t eaten since… well, since before she’d gone into the Fugue Forest. Breakfast, if it could be called that, because it hadn’t been enough. All of a reheated slice of the veggie pizza she’d made yesterday. She thought she’d be in and out with the Fugue Mushroom—plenty of time to head back to Prelude Ranch, to take care of her fields and have a real meal before making her daily rounds in Harmonica Town (and specifically to the Wizard’s home). But obviously none of that had gone according to plan.
She really hoped Jin didn’t ask about all that when he showed up—she could already hear him giving her a stern talking-to about making sure she ate enough, with how strenuous her job was.
Still, it wasn’t the first time she’d gone an entire morning without more than a few bites to eat. It was almost as if something else was responsible for her blacking out, not the consequences of her own questionable decision making. Even more confusing was that the Wizard had found her—surely it wasn’t coincidence that he’d been in the forest too, especially during the daytime.
Molly was lost in her thoughts as well as the last muffin when Anissa returned, with a smile and two more cups of tea—one for herself, and a new one for Molly.
They drifted into conversation, with Anissa reminiscing about the year she’d spent in the city, before she’d come back home shortly after Molly arrived. Some of it Molly had heard about before, although nothing in any great detail, since part of why Anissa had left in the first place was not just to deepen her own knowledge, but to find a way to help revive Castanet into the prosperous island it once was.
Despite the dire circumstances that incited her to visit the mainland and the city, in many ways Anissa had gotten to live out a dream she might not have had the chance to otherwise. Able to stay with her extended family, she’d learned from the best at the local university, where they propagated their own herbs that were used in developing new medicines. Some of this went over Molly’s head—the different scientific names of the plants and herbs were difficult to keep up with—but it added to her contentment over ringing the Yellow Bell last year even more, knowing that Anissa could put her newfound knowledge to good use both for Marimba Farm and with assisting the Choral Clinic.
It’d been so long since she’d really whiled an afternoon away and relaxed with a friend. Festival days and rainy days granted her a bit of a reprieve, but her farm, and what she had to do next was always at the top of mind. That, or what she had to do for the residents of Castanet. What she wanted to do for them, because they were all pieces that, together, filled in the parts of her life she hadn’t even known were empty.
Almost an hour later, the girls were interrupted by Anissa’s door opening.
“Hey Sis, Molly! Your guys are here.” Taylor poked his head in, and the mouth-watering aroma of whatever Ruth was cooking floated into the room. “Oh, and Mom wants me to tell ya dinner’s almost ready.”
Anissa and Molly looked at each other, then back at Taylor.
“Guys?” Molly stressed. “Like, plural?”
“Dr. Jin and the Wizard,” Taylor said in a tone that very much insinuated a duh at the end of it.
“Jin is not my guy,” Anissa said to her grinning little brother, who clearly believed her as much as Craig did.
“Doctor Jin,” he corrected her. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. “What?”
“Since when are you a stickler about things like that?”
“I dunno. That’s just what Irene said last time I was there. That it’s one of his rules that I call him ‘doctor.’” He cleared his throat and tried to imitate Irene, putting on a creaky old woman voice that really didn’t sound anything like her. “He didn’t go to medical school for you to not call him by his proper title.”
“Anissa is exempt from these alleged rules,” said Jin, who had appeared behind Taylor. For as serious as he typically was, Molly could tell by the slight tilt of his mouth that he was amused—and, judging by how his gaze immediately found Anissa, glad to be here, despite the circumstances.
Taylor left, grumbling all the while, while Jin crossed to the bed.
“The Wizard came along too?” Molly asked as Jin unpacked his medical bag. She didn’t want to sound too hopeful, or even, desperate, but knew she did.
“Yes, since he was the one who brought you here, I thought it fair to inform him you were awake. He wanted to see for himself how you were faring—he’d said something about being unsure of the ‘effects’… I’m not sure what he meant by that.”
Molly wasn’t sure either, but the Wizard did often speak in a vague way.
“But you aren’t feeling any ‘effects’, are you?” Jin continued, taking out what must’ve been the notes he’d made earlier—her patient file. “Anissa said you seemed ‘fine’, that you even said so yourself.”
“Yes…” Molly said in a whisper.
Jin went through the steps of examining her, asking her to rate different feelings she was having on a scale of one to ten. He didn’t think it was very funny when she told him the only reason she’d slept so long was to commemorate Sleepy Girl Spring, not because she was overly fatigued, but he let it pass when it got a giggle out of Anissa.
“Well,” he said, donning his stethoscope, “You are in good health—nothing seems to be amiss, much like when I examined you earlier. So while I wish I could understand just why you so suddenly lost consciousness, I suppose what matters most is that everything is in working order. I’ll just check your heartbeat and, should that be normal, I’d say you’re more than ready to leave.”
“After dinner, of course.” Anissa smiled at the both of them.
“Yes…” A fourth voice agreed, and Molly flinched. Her eyes widened as she turned to see the Wizard, a step inside the room, looking as perfectly serene as he always did. It was almost as if he’d dropped in out of thin air. “So… you have recovered… That is good. A relief…”
Molly meant to respond, but the cool metal of the stethoscope’s chestpiece pressed to her skin, along with Jin’s instruction for her to take a deep breath, and then to let out that deep breath.
“I would have come in…” the Wizard continued. “But the boy. He is… not here. My assistance… was needed.”
“Taylor gone missing when it’s time to set the table?” Anissa rolled her eyes. “Imagine that.”
The Wizard nodded sagely. “Your mother…She too foretold it would happen. Now, dinner… is served…”
He left, and Molly automatically slid out of bed, eyes on the door the whole time. Anissa stood too, gathering the bowls and cups she and Molly had shared.
“Wait.” Jin, who had been making notes in her file, was wearing a pensive expression. “Molly, your heart rate is… well, it’s accelerated. Alarmingly so. Are you sure you aren’t—”
“I think she’s more than fine, Jin,” Anissa nudged her arm against his and nodded towards the door. “Come on.”
“I can’t take all this!”
“Of course you can.” Ruth placed another plastic container on top of the two already in Molly’s arms. “You’re appreciative, which is more than I can say for that crab of a husband of mine.”
Dinner at Marimba Farm had made it, maybe, worth all the drama of collapsing in the forest and disrupting not only Molly’s own day, but that of so many others. After having grown so used to eating alone in her house, pulling up to a table with five other (and then, six—Craig returned midway through the meal) people was almost like entering a different world altogether.
One she was hesitant to leave.
With Ruth shoving dinner for at least the next two nights off on her, Molly was reminded of when she’d first arrived on Castanet. How, despite the lack of ingredients or even the fire needed to cook more complex dishes, Colleen and Hayden would offer her portions of what they made that, while meager, were more than she was able to scrape together—she’d practically lived off of fried eggs and herb tea that first Spring.
With her protests falling on deaf ears, she decided gratitude would be more fitting—even if she didn’t think she quite deserved all this. “I guess I could always… you know, share it.” Lifting the transparent containers to eye level, Molly examined the buttery herb trout and tender roasted vegetables.
It’d been the best meal she’d had in a while—since the strawberry shortcake Yolanda had given her for Winter Thanksgiving, which hadn’t been a meal per se, but that hadn’t stopped Molly from eating it for dinner. And seeing the Wizard enjoy it too, when Goddess knew when he’d last had a home-cooked meal (the coffee candy she constantly plied him with hardly counted), had made it even better.
“That’s what I figured,” Ruth said blandly, not sounding like she was buying the nonchalance Molly was trying for. “I can write down the recipe for the salad too, if you’d like it.”
“I’d love it!” The strawberry salad had been Molly’s favorite part of dinner. Shining, juicy berries, mixed with nuts, crumbled cheese and herbs, and all topped off with a homemade honey dressing. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank Chase, not me. He’s the one who dreamt it up.”
“But it wouldn’t be any good without the best strawberries in the world to make it,” said Molly. “I wish I could get mine to come in half as good as yours, but I’m more of a wheat girl, I think. Gotta have my carbs.”
“You say that now, but twenty years from now...”
“Hey, is she givin’ you a hard time?” Craig had come inside from the porch, where he’d been out chatting with Jin, Anissa and Taylor—or, more likely, chatting with Jin as Anissa and Taylor looked on, respectively mortified and humored. In his hand was an empty mug, and he crossed over to the percolator, where a splash of coffee remained inside the pot. “Some way to treat our guests, Ruth.”
“You're one to talk,” Ruth said as she saw Craig pour himself another cup, emptying the pot. “And put that in the sink and let it soak.”
“Yeah yeah, I’ll do it before bed.” Craig waved her off and went back outside.
“Men…” Ruth muttered under her breath.
“They’re pretty great, huh?” Molly replied, deflecting Ruth’s pessimism. “I mean, between the Wizard and Doctor Jin… and Craig, too. They all really saved my skin today.”
The start of a smile appeared on Ruth’s face, and she got to copying down Chase’s salad recipe, her back to Molly as she spoke. “They have their moments, I suppose. Even Craig. Don’t tell him I told you, but he was beside himself when the Wizard brought you here. Been some time since I’ve seen him so worried.”
“That’s what Anissa said.” Molly adjusted the containers in her arms. A quiet stretch passed, nothing but the scratching of Ruth’s pen filling the silence. “I can’t thank you all enough for doing what you did for me today.”
Finishing up the recipe, Ruth turned, and folded it in half. “You’ve done a lot for us. A lot. For everyone, actually. So it's only fair we return the favor. Besides, it’s what neighbors do for each other.”
With it obvious that Molly would be unable to take the recipe, arms full as they were, Ruth came up to her and slipped the paper into the pocket of Molly’s skort, before smoothing it down. The gesture, while simple, seemed like something she might do to Anissa or Taylor, a show of how comfortable she was with them.
Knowing it was corny to say, and that she might receive a trademark Marimba Farm eyeroll in response, Molly said it anyway. “It’s what friends do for each other, too.”
No eyeroll, or dismissive huff. Just the hint of the smile Ruth had shown earlier spread into a soft, full one.
Molly bid her farewells to everyone else as she left. Anissa requested she stop by before the end of the season for more fresh lavender tea, and Jin told her to monitor herself throughout the next day, and not do anything too strenuous.
Craig informed her she was welcome back any time, just that the only requirement was she be conscious—he wasn’t going to go to all the trouble of watering her fields again. Once was enough.
Taylor proudly boasted he’d do it, then, if Molly needed a helping hand, and that she could pay him in more of the chocolate bars she’d been gifting him almost every day (much to Ruth’s chagrin).
She opted against asking them if the Wizard had said anything before he’d left, shortly after dinner. The Wizard came and went as he pleased, and that he’d been here at all was worth celebrating in terms of accepting she meant something to him. He’d even sat through a meal, and cryptically answered the barrage of questions Taylor had lobbed at him, about fortune telling and astronomy.
She could go see him tomorrow (Goddess-willing she didn’t pass out again), and see how he’d liked his visit to Marimba Farm. Right now Molly just wanted to see her farm again, and if it were some living breathing thing she could fling her arms around and hug, she would consider doing so. She’d settle for giving her sheep and chickens some pets and nuzzles.
Though the days were growing longer, with Summer right around the corner, it was still awfully late, and the sun had nearly set. Only the faintest dusky stripe remained on the horizon, beautiful but hardly enough to grant any light. She was almost home—the peaked roof of her home was coming into view—when she saw, there at the fence on the edge of her property…
“Hello…”
In the wide, open night, his voice floated to her like a moth fluttering to a light.
“Hi!” she exclaimed, and hurried faster, the best she could while carrying the tower of containers.
The Wizard met her halfway, and took one from the stack. “I can… assist...”
“Were you waiting for me?” she asked, as they trekked up closer to her house.
He stopped. Turned to look at her, then up to the sky. The sounds of nature surrounded them: the distant lapping of her waterwheel, the chirping of birds and faint buzzing of insects. Molly had grown so accustomed to it all that she hardly noticed it anymore, but after being cooped up inside all day, it was almost like experiencing it anew.
“Somewhat…”
“Only somewhat? Why else?”
He was still looking at the sky. “The stars here… They’ll appear… soon. A few have, already. It’s a perfect view… much like the festival you and I attended.”
The Starry Night Festival. Molly tilted her head back, taking in the endless expanse above.
She’d never really thought about the stars, not until she’d started spending more time with the Wizard. If anything, she’d grown fond of the sunsets here on Castanet, and with how her farm overlooked the horizon with nothing obstructing it… to say it was a gorgeous view would hardly do it justice. But the Wizard, she knew, liked sunsets for what they heralded: the night sky, and the countless dazzling stars featured within it.
She had to agree.
“I never got to thank you for saving me,” she said quietly. “For finding me and bringing me to Marimba Farm to recover. Who knows what shape I’d be in if you hadn’t. I…”
The gravity of how close she’d come to a more tragic fate hit her. Not only that, but why was it so much harder than when she’d thanked Ruth, Craig, Anissa, Jin… everyone else?
“Yes..? Molly?”
She looked at the Wizard to find him looking back at her with that tired yet curious expression he always wore. How could he always be so calm, so relaxed, and somehow still make her feel so intensely with a single glance? Maybe he really did possess a special kind of magic.
“Thank you,” she said. “I guess… that’s all I really wanted to say. So… yeah. Thanks.”
“You are welcome. Are you perhaps… wondering? Why it is you were…”
“Incapacitated?” Molly supplied. “Knocked the hell out for no reason.”
“Yes. Either… or both, rather. You see, it’s the Witch… and your indecision. She is still troubled by it…”
“’It’? You mean the Fugue Mushroom?” Molly frowned when the Wizard confirmed her question with a slight nod. “Wait, you mean she knocked me out? Because of some toadstool?”
“Not directly, but yes. It is simple… for her to place curses around the forest… she has tried to do so for many years, to prevent me from exploring it too often...”
“That seems rather… extreme. Petty, too. And, full offense, but her trying to hex me—”
“Curse.”
What’s the difference? Molly thought. “Her trying to curse me isn’t exactly going to do her any favors and make me choose her over you. Not that I would, anyway.”
“No? How strange… Potential harm… most people would not choose that… over a person.”
“I’m not most people,” Molly said. “And besides… didn’t you sort of risk harm, rescuing me from the forest? If the Witch’s curse was somewhere around there, like you said.”
“Yes… I suppose I did. But it did not occur to me. Your safety…. Well-being… was most important.”
Molly let out a small laugh, but it was hardly funny. It was maybe the sweetest thing she’d heard from the Wizard in the year that she’d known him, and her heart stuttered.
“Well, thanks. I know everyone said I was some kind of hero, for what I did for this island, but today you were mine. Not just getting me out of the forest, but taking me to Marimba Farm? Craig’s always scared me a little—especially when him and Ruth have gotten into it.”
“Gotten… into what…?”
“Nevermind.” Molly leaned back against the door of her house, closing her eyes for a moment and letting the night breeze cool her warming face. “How did you know I was in trouble, anyway?”
“My crystal ball… You know I can read the feelings of the island’s inhabitants…”
“Oh?” Molly peeked an eye open, come to find the Wizard standing beside her. She always forgot how tall he was compared to her, since so often when she spoke to him, he was seated at his desk or hunched over his telescope.
“You were… distressed. And I was able to… locate you. I check in on you… from time to time, you see. As I do everyone else, of course…”
“Of course,” she echoed. A pause, the span of several breaths, as she watched the final thread of purple in the sky darken. “Is this what you meant when you said we should see the stars again?”
“I did not mean any… particular time… but yes. And if any harm had come to pass… we would not be able to. And that… I do not wish to dwell on it.”
Hadn’t she meant to ask him about dinner? About his visit to Marimba Farm in general?
She couldn’t dredge up the desire or energy to do it now, but...
“If you want to look at them tomorrow night, too, you could always come over.” She lifted her containers to show them off to him. “We’ll have a picnic under the stars, and I’ll even make my specialty: leftovers!”
“That would be… acceptable…”
They lapsed into silence again, and even though Molly knew she should go put her food away, and check-in quick with her animals, she followed the Wizard’s lead and stared out at the sky.
All around her, and deep within her heart, the sweetness of Spring was in full bloom.