Chapter 4

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Spring 7 – Saturday

Dear Diary,

What a day.

I awoke this morning from dreams of long, silken-soft dark blond hair and a warm friendly smile of welcome with the sunshine of an entire summer in my heart, illuminating my very being.

I think I frightened my doggie. All that random glowing, you know.

And the sudden bursts of impassioned love songs.

But it didn't last long. Once I had emptied some delicious pig innards into Snoopy's dish and emptied some delicious Oat Bran into my own, I pulled back the curtain, anticipating the warm, fragrant early morning sunlight, and instead found the world a dark, gloomy place, with torrents of rain cascading down my window.

And at almost the very same moment, reality worked its way into my dream-addled brain and reminded me pettishly that Rick is Strictly Off-Limits.

Then I sat down and had a little cry.

Well, the weather was doing it! I wanted to play, too!

But at long last, after a good deal of snuggling with my decidedly unwilling canine friend, I cheered up sufficiently to drag on the old farmer's leftover overalls and the closest reasonably pretty flannel shirt (the one with the little pink rosebuds today), and slogged outside to water my crops.

Then I sat myself down and gave myself a good, long talk about the side effects of rainy days on a field full of crops eagerly awaiting water. The water falling from the sky, I told myself firmly, is absolutely no less wet than the water transferred from my fishpond to my crops by the vessel of my watering can.

After that, I pondered exactly what I was to do with this long, wet day. Foraging was, and remains, absolutely out of the question. I am, after all, still a City Girl, with distinct City Girl tendencies, which include a flat refusal to go running around the mountains in the rain.

And also, Elli told me she would give me a sound scolding and a liter of ginger tea if I got sick gallivanting about in a spring rainstorm.

She also told me about the Goddess Festival tomorrow. It seems that there's a dance performance featuring the young ladies of the town. I'm looking very forward to seeing Elli, Mary, Miss Karen, and Miss Popuri dressed up in pretty dresses and flowers and dancing about like little Goddesses-in-training.

Next year, however, I'll apparently be expected to participate in a more direct way.

Sad-noise.

I tried to warn Elli that I have two left feet, and even gave her a demonstration that very nearly did severe damage to a potted aloe plant near her desk, but to no avail. She just slid the plant surreptitiously out of my path, giggled a bit, and told me that if Ann can do it, I can do it.

I don't believe I've met this Ann. She does, however, sound like my sort of girl.

Ah, yes; there's also the small matter of the date that I hadn't even begun to look for. I asked, only slightly hysterical, why no one had bothered to inform me that I would need a date, and Elli just laughed again and said that no one had expected me to take it so seriously. She also said that if I was really desperate, she and the Doctor would be my dates.

Harrumph. I would gladly take about half of that proposition, but I can't imagine spending the entire day with that stone-faced Doctor. I don't think he likes me very much, anyway.

And there's still the distressing matter of Elli continuing to gravitate to him. I've tried to explain that just because something is the easy choice, it doesn't necessarily make it the right one, but she just blinked confusedly at me until I passed out of the cuteness.

My first thought for a date was that boy at the Church; if Miss Popuri hadn't already asked him herself, it would be an excellent chance for me to plant the seed, as it were, in his mind that she really is awfully pretty, you know, and very sweet.

And so, off I went to the Church, only to have the shock of my life, when Cliff announced, going about twelve shades of red, that he already had a date, but thank-you for the thought.

This is wonderful news, though; I suppose Popuri is a little more driven than I gave her credit for, the pretty little minx!

I'm such a fantastic matchmaker.

Nevertheless, I still didn't have a date.

Thus did I end up at the Poultry Farm, almost without any idea how I got there, standing on the front step in the rain with my heart in my throat.

And I stood there, and stood there, and stood there, until a voice asked, slightly impatient, if I was planning on going inside at some point.

I laughed like an idiot, and Miss Karen shook her head and laughed too. Then she dragged me inside and asked the owner of the farm, Rick and Popuri's mother Lillia, for a towel for me.

Then, while she was giving my hair the drying of its life, she called over to Rick that she'd pick him up for the Festival at nine tomorrow morning, since Popuri was helping her with her hair anyway. I, meanwhile, stood there like a crash test dummy and blushed furiously with shame that, while Miss Karen was being so nice and helpful and making sure I didn't catch cold, I was fully intent upon stealing her boyfriend.

Although, they don't act particularly like young lovers. Of course, they act like they could become so any time, but it seems that we're still on a level playing field.

Ack! So terribly conflicted! I adore watching young love blossom before my eyes, but…Rick! He has such pretty eyes, and such a cute smile, and such a nice laugh, and he likes animals, and he does the family's taxes himself, and he offered to do mine when I tried to add ten with thirteen and got a headache, and…and he's got a lovely girlfriend almost as sweet and perfect as he is.

Well, maybe everything will work out.

Maybe she'll move away, or become a nun, or fall screaming down a ravine, or something.

That wasn't nice.

Just the first two, then.

At any rate, while the three (Karen, Rick, and Popuri) were talking animatedly about all the delights that might come tomorrow, I snuck dejectedly out of the house.

Then I snuck dejectedly and sheepishly back in and gave Mrs. McGuire, who has insisted that I call her Lillia, back her towel.

Then I snuck dejectedly back out into the rain, and across the street to the Blacksmith's shop, on the hunt for a fire to banish the chill of a rainstorm and unrequited love.

Honestly, there are far more young people in Mineral Town than I thought. The blacksmith, Mr. Saibara, has his grandson apprenticing. And a sulky little fellow he is, too! His name is Gray, he lives in a hat, and he apparently "don't take kindly to strangers," as the quaint small-town cliché goes. His grandfather yelled at him for yelling at me, and then, when he found out I wasn't actually going to buy anything, yelled at me, too.

And so, miserable and flustered, I bolted back out into the rain.

On the way out, I met Miss Mary, and upon recalling that I had absolutely no way to fill the rest of the day aside from moping around, I followed her back in.

She thanked Mr. Saibara for doing such a nice job upgrading her lucky pen, while I skulked in the background like a nervous little shadow.

And then it happened. The scowly little apprentice somehow contrived to put a deep gash in his hand with the hammer he was repairing.

For some reason, I feel a strange kinship with him…

At any rate, Mary bandaged it up for him as best she could, but in the meantime, I had A Brilliant Idea.

THIS was the man for Elli! Sulky, and grumpy, and klutzy enough to need medical attention on a regular basis! It came back to me in a sudden rush, the schoolteacherish side I saw her exhibit when she ordered the winery owner with the skunk-patterned hair out of the Clinic waiting room and away from his hobby of picking on the Supermarket owner. She could easily apply it to Mr. Gray's sulky-and-grumpy demeanour, and hopefully make him realize that he's acting like a silly little boy. And then, just to show that there are no hard feelings, she could give him a nice cuddle afterwards!

And! And-and-and, with his seeming penchant for accidents, she would have every opportunity to practice her nursing skills, and improve her talents until she no longer felt the need to cling stubbornly to the Doctor!

And so, mind made up and burning with a renewed fire, I seized Gray by the arm and began to drag him from the shop.

"I think you ought to get that taken care of at the Clinic," I said, only to receive two looks that strongly implied the possibility that I was sprouting a second or third head (Saibara and Gray), and one look that implied that same possibility, but more politely (Mary).

Nevertheless, Mary did back me up, telling Gray that she would feel a little more comfortable if he at least got it checked for infection. And I suppose Mr. Gray must have as much respect for Miss Mary as a superior intellect as I do, because as soon as she spoke, he stopped trying to kick me off, and came quite willingly to the Clinic.

"Injured man!" I called as we burst through the door. "Injured man in need of the healing touch of a cute young nurse!"

And then, if you'll believe it, the doctor proceeded to escort poor Gray to the cot and inspect his cut, while Elli ran for disinfectant.

So, I kidnapped the doctor.

"Let young love run its course," I entreated, dragging him back out into the waiting room beneath the startled eyes of one nurse and one mini-blacksmith.

"Does it have to run its course during business hours?" he sighed before heading grudgingly upstairs

Men say such odd things.

At any rate, Elli did splendidly, disinfecting and bandaging Gray's hand with a skill and finesse never before seen in a nurse with no formal training at all. She even kissed it better for him, although she turned bright red afterwards and apologized, admitting that she'd forgotten whom she was dealing with for a moment, and thought that Gray was Stu.

He did not look impressed.

Ah, well. At least they're in one another's minds now. Surely it won't be long before they realize that they need one another in their arms and homes and lives forever and ever.

And with this comfortable certainty, dear Diary, I recap my pen and retire for the night.

And realize, with a sad whimper and a good deal of swearing, that I never did manage to find a date for the festival tomorrow. But I suppose it will give me time to keep an eye on the potential happy couples.

Alas, the life of a dedicated matchmaker is a lonely existence indeed.

Love and scribbles,

Wendy.

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