Round Here

Summary: When the cowgirl met the wanderer. Kathy/Calvin.

Her eyes first met his over the rim of her cocktail glass.

She had just unlocked the Brass Bar's front doors, but had kept outside lights off and the sound system muted. Her father and Chase were still in the storeroom in the back, checking inventory and counting out the register, but she'd finished her preparations: the tables had been polished and the floors had been swept. The bar itself shone like a mirror and the shelves behind it were stocked with all of the patrons' favorite liquors.

There would only be a small crowd tonight, as there always was, as there always seemed to be, now that the Goddess Tree was no longer blooming. It broke her heart to see her seaside town so empty, and some days she found herself staring out across the water and wondering if she shouldn't venture into the wide world like so many of her neighbors had done. This place is done for, they had told her. Get out of here while you're young, while you can.

Sometimes, looking at the bar's empty tables night after night, she considered the idea. But then, she would begin thinking of her father and Chase and the way the bar's front lights lit up the streets at night and the little mound in the cemetery underneath which her mother was buried, and the feeling would pass. It always did. Harmonica Town was her home and the people—absent or not—were her family. The walls of Kathy's life stretched from the lighthouse to the church, and no further.

Perched on a stool, elbows propped on the polished bar, she had been nursing a martini and enjoying the silence when the doorknob turned and the door swung open, revealing the figure of a man she didn't recognize. Her interest was immediately piqued. With one quick glance she memorized him: his square jawline and broad shoulders, his crushed cowboy hat and the way his unbuttoned shirt exposed an almost indecent amount of his chest. His leather jacket and boots were covered in dust from the road; he left tracks on the floor she'd just scrubbed. Perhaps he had come a long way.

Be careful around strangers, her intuition said, but at the same time, something else within her whispered, I don't want to be careful around this one.

He saw her the moment the door swung shut behind him and immediately reached up and took off his hat. It seemed as though the room was holding its breath.

She swallowed the rest of her martini, leaving the green olive speared on a toothpick at the bottom of the glass. She saw his gaze flick to her throat and back up to her face. Normally, she would have been up in a second, cheerfully offering her customer a seat and spouting off the day's special, but it had been so long since a newcomer had come through Harmonica Town that she could hardly process her thoughts. She remained poised at the bar, studying him. "Can I help you?" she finally asked.

"Was wondering if I might trouble you for a drink," he said, in a voice exactly like she thought he'd sound: a little ragged, a little weary, but definitely deep.

"You might," she said. "What kind of drink would you like to trouble me for?"

"Well, see, ma'am," he said, his fingers playing with the brim of his hat, "I just got into town, so I'm not sure I'm familiar with your stock. Mind telling me what you've got?"

His eyes kept tracking to the short red scarf she had tied around her neck, as if he was having trouble controlling where they went. She knew what she looked like and tried to keep the triumph from showing in her expression. It had been so long since something like this had happened, too. She set her empty glass down on a napkin on the bar. "We've got beer," she told the wall.

"Anything else?"

"Mmm. How about fruit liqueur? We can mix every kind of cocktail imaginable."

"Nah. I'm not in the mood for something that sweet."

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze going slowly up the line of her embroidered jeans to the leather fringe encircling her hips. "Aren't you?" she asked.

He gave a little snort of laughter and dropped his gaze to the floor. She swore she could see him blushing. "You wouldn't happen to be guarding any whiskey behind that pretty face, would you?"

In the silence that followed, she thought, This could be bad.

In the silence that followed, he thought, Oh, I'm in trouble.

She could only steal a few syllables' worth of conversation from him at a time. Seeing a new face in the crowd had drawn the Bar's regulars to his table like sharks to blood in the water, and while they all bombarded him with their names and questions of his origin, she watched him carefully, judging his responses to such an enthusiastic welcome by a group of strangers.

He was patient and polite. No, he hadn't been here before. Yes, he'd have a drink with them, and would gladly tell them anything they wished to know about all the exotic places that he'd been to. His name was Calvin.

Her customers from the Garmon District—Luke, Owen, Ramsey, and Dale—were rapt listeners as the newcomer detailed all the amazing things he had seen and done. White water kayaking, zip lining through rainforests, base jumping, skydiving—it seemed as if he had seen and done everything that would qualify a person as a bona fide adventurer. He wasn't bragging, either. He told his stories in a plain, soft-spoken way, as if jumping out of an airplane or climbing the tallest mountain in the world didn't deserve the special honor of an exciting story.

"You got a favorite thing to do?" Starry-eyed Luke asked, practically glowing with jealousy. Kathy understood—Luke was a lumberjack, tied inexorably to Fugue Forest's murky green depths. He would never go any higher than standing on the stump of a tree he just felled.

Neither will I, she mused.

"Mountain climbing," Calvin told him. "I love seeing the world from on high. There's nothing better than seeing the sun break from the summit of a mountain. I could watch that kind of thing for the rest of my life."

"You been up Mount Garmon yet?" Owen asked. Like Luke, Owen lived in the mountain's shadow. Unlike Luke, Owen kept the envy out of his voice.

"That one north of town?" Calvin asked. "Haven't had the chance. Maybe one of you fellows can give me the tour sometime."

"No kidding! You gonna be in town long enough?"

"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't stick around. The people seem friendly enough."

Some laughter, a round of hearty agreement, a few promises to come drinking with him again, and a few firm handshakes followed. Kathy chose that moment to walk up with the tab.

"It's on me," Calvin said quickly when the other men reached for their wallets. "No—no, I won't let you pay," he insisted to their protestations. "You treated me like a neighbor. Let me do the same."

Luke, having had one too many coconut cocktails, had to be helped out by Dale and Owen. Ramsey bowed to Calvin and followed the other men out, leaving Kathy and Calvin to themselves.

Kathy crumpled the receipt in her hand. Calvin was still digging in his wallet. Leather, Kathy noted. Cracked. Old. He'd probably taken it around the world, on every one of those amazing, life-defining adventures he'd told them about.

You'd never find him in the same place twice, she thought. Always restless, always on the move.

I haven't stirred from the Brass Bar's doorstep in ten years.

"You got someplace to spend the night?" she asked.

"No ma'am," he said. Kathy suddenly realized he was just messing with the money in an attempt to not look at her. She glanced down at her ample cleavage, showing proudly through the deep vee of her shirt and tight vest. "You wouldn't happen to have any lodgings in this fine establishment, would you?"

"Well, my bed's in the back room," she said calmly.

His fingers slipped and dropped the coins he was counting out. She watched as he dropped to his knees to retrieve them.

"The Ocarina Inn's right around the corner," she continued when he rose again. He was taller than her, even without the hat. The dimmed lights showed the crow's feet around his eyes and the deep lines trailing on either side of his long nose. "It's on the level above us; just turn right once you leave and go up the stairs. You can't miss it."

"Ah, er, thanks. I'll check it out." He was actually stammering. She edged a bit closer, sure that he could smell her Bluemist perfume by now. It cost a week's worth of wages for a tiny bottle but it was so, so worth it. He smelled like leather and dry dust and a hint of sweat. There was no trace of the jungle on him, no wild smell of the hot canyon that he'd said he'd parachuted through.

"How much do I owe you for the drink, the advice, and the company, Miss…?"

"Call me Katherine."

"Katherine." He said it slowly, and her ears drank in the way it sounded. Foreign. Strange. "That's lovely."

"It is. You don't owe me a thing."

Calvin's eyes widened. "It's a wonder how you even stay in business, Miss-such a tiny crowd on a Saturday night, giving free drinks to strangers? I can't possibly not pay you."

"There hasn't been a crowd like that in here for a long, long time," she told him, walking him to the front door. "You made this place feel alive again, and that's compensation enough for me. It's my thanks to you."

He smiled then, the same free and easy smile he'd given her earlier. "That's awful friendly of you, Miss Katherine."

"Don't mention it," she told him. "It's what we do around here all the time."

He placed his hat on his sandy-colored hair and bowed politely. "Goodnight, then, Miss Katherine."

She listened to his hard-soled boots strike the cobblestones as he left her behind.

Shit, she thought suddenly. That tab's gotta come out of my paycheck.

The Brass Bar was empty again, the outside lights off, the stereo system muted once more.

"New guy certainly was the man of the hour." Kathy's father, Hayden, said in his usual plain tone. He was sitting at one of the tables, thumbing through stacks of ones and fives, a pen tucked behind his ear. His gruff voice, matched only by his equally gruff exterior, held a hint of respect for the 'new guy'. "Half of Harmonica showed up to fawn over him."

"Yes, he certainly is very beige, isn't he?" Chase said dryly from his stooped position over the sink. The wine glasses he was washing made little muffled clinks under the soapy water. "He's kind of old to be playing vagabond, though. Right, Kathy?"

When Kathy didn't answer, Chase glanced over at her, cocking an eyebrow when he saw the intensity on Kathy's face as she rubbed the dishes dry. "Really, Kathy?" he asked, handing her another. His lavender eyes widened. "You're moony over that guy?"

Hayden's fingers paused in their deft counting of a stack of ones, then continued.

"Are you kidding? He's not even handsome," she said, and meant it.

She made it to the Ocarina Inn just before it closed. Behind the front desk, Jake didn't even look up from his ledger. His wife Colleen and daughter Maya laughed with Yolanda in the kitchen as they wrapped egg salad sandwiches for tomorrow's crowd.

"New guy forgot his wallet at the bar," Kathy lied. She didn't bother providing evidence.

Jake glanced up at her. "Last door on the right," he said, and she was through the reception area before any of the others had noticed. She found the door easily enough. It opened easily enough, too. She didn't bother knocking.

He stood shirtless in front of the open closet, in the middle of buttoning up his shirt on the hanger. A leather suitcase lay on the floor next to his bed, sparsely filled with a few pairs of pants, a watch and compass, and a journal that looked as old as he was.

"I knew there was a catch," he said.

"Don't play dumb," she told him, untying her cherry scarf from her neck. The buttons on her vest were next. The alarmed look he gave her made her heart sing. "I've been looking at the same horizon all my life." As if that was supposed to make any sense to him, how could it, when he hadn't slept in the same bed twice since he left home?

"You sure you want this, little girl?" he asked, looking around the room. Always, always, he refused to meet her emerald green eyes.

"I want you to tell me about all those mountains you've climbed."

His eyes followed her shirt to the floor. "Thought you were listening to me in the bar."

"Again." She walked right up to him, her feather earrings tickling her now-bare shoulders. "I want to hear it all again."

"I don't normally do this," he said weakly. His hands crushed her jeans into her hips.

"I'm sure you don't," she said, and pushed him to the floor.

Kathy awoke under a crown-molded ceiling that wasn't hers. Tawny light shone through the window curtains, illuminating her pile of clothes on the floor, the tangled sheets, her sweat-slicked skin. She sat up, not bothering to cover herself. Her golden hair tickled her shoulders and back.

She turned. Calvin lay on his back, still asleep. Bite marks marred his neck. She'd wanted to draw something out of him, some sense of adventure, of all the hidden places in the world that he'd seen. Show me, show me, she'd thought as he braced his hands on either side of her head. I want to see those mountain sunrises, too.

But the mountains, the deserts, the oceans that he'd said he'd climbed, conquered, sailed—he'd carried none of them with him. She couldn't taste the thrill of exhilaration from jumping out of a plane with a parachute on his back, nor the saltiness of the sea he'd gone diving in. For all of his wild wandering, he'd come here, and Castanet had taken whatever he'd brought from each of his journeys. Or maybe she had taken it from him. His lips tasted like her cocktails. He smelled like the cigarette smoke that clouded the bar.

She wanted his spirit of adventure. She got his body instead.

She closed her eyes. He said he was going to stay. I see no reason why I shouldn't stick around, he'd said, happy and ignorant. She should have told him to run. She should have told him to run screaming. Around here, she thought, you don't just decide to stick around. This place grabs you. It holds you. God, you weren't supposed to let it.

The compass, the journal—he might as well throw them away. He'd never use them again. He'd wake up in this bed tomorrow, and the next day. He'd go outside and drink coffee and watch the sunrise over the ocean and think, This place isn't so bad. The people are friendly. They buy me drinks, treat me like a neighbor. There's a mountain to climb. I can be happy here.

And the wind wouldn't blow, and the grass would stay yellow and dry, and the crops would come in withered and blighted. She'd open the bar at the same time every afternoon and play the same music and drink the same cocktails and serve the same patrons. Sometimes she'd think about leaving. She should get out while she's young. While she still could.

But then she'd think of her father, and Chase, and the wanderer who'd had stories of what lay outside the walls of her life, and the feeling would pass. It always would.

Calvin shifted, blinked. His rough hand reached out and squeezed the back of her neck possessively.

"I knew you were trouble," he said in a groggy voice, pulling her onto him again. "Do people around here always treat strangers like this, Katherine?"

She put on a bright smile, the same smile she used to greet all of her regulars. "Actually, my name's Kathy," she told him. "And yeah. They do."

Written for Halidom, who writes beautiful Harvest Moon pieces and whom I was terrified of writing for, for fear this wouldn't be good enough. I hope this was worth the read, Halidom!

It was actually really fun writing this story, but I have to admit I feel a little embarrassed about sexing it up so much, ahaha. I mean, these are innocent Harvest Moon characters, they can't have sex! Nevermind where all the babies come from.

Seriously though Kathy is the hottest thing to come out of Harvest Moon, oh my goodness. I can easily see her doing one-night-stand kind of things with Calvin just to get over the monotony of serving drinks all the time. I also have a hard time writing older men without making them super sexual, and that is because I have a sickness.

Thank you to therainydaykids and Emo Cowboy for this gift exchange!