2. Elliott's Cabin

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  It had been a week or so sonce Elliott had come to visit me on the farm. The sky had been almost constantly overcast with stormclouds until it had finally begun to rain on the previous day. The weather finally seemed to be looking up. The sun shone brighter than it had in days, and the clouds appeared to be moving on from Pelican Town. Similarly, my bought of uncertainty seemed to clear away a little as well. The days I spent working on the farm were still long and rough, but at least I was starting to get the hang of things. I was getting better at managing my time, making good progress at trimming back the vines and shrubs, and my vegetable patch was finally beginning to sprout. 

  Over all, I was feeling much more optimistic about my future in Pelican Town, and I owed a small debt to Elliott for it. He had encouraged me to stay even a little longer, just to give things a fair shot, and if it weren't for him, I probably would have given up and left the farmhouse to rot. I didn't have much money to buy him a proper thank-you gift, so I headed into the kitchen to whip something up. Though I wasn't sure what kinds of food he liked. Turning to the Queen of Sauce for some inspiration, I decided to make a fresh fruit salad. Surely, anyone would enjoy that. 

  When I was done preparing it, I wrote out a short note on a scrap of paper and packed everything away for the walk to the beach. The town was relatively quiet in the late afternoons, except for Jas and Vincent, who often played together in the town square under Penny's supervision. Granny Evolyn hovered over planter boxes outside of the saloon, carefully tending to her flowers. There was a sense of slow calm about everyone which really put me at ease. It was the first time in a while that I could take a bit of a break without the stresses of the farm building in the back of my mind. 

  As I entered the beach, the sun hung fairly low on the horizon, bathing everything in its warm, pale orange light. The stormclouds had already passed the southeastern edge of Pelican Town, leaving the sky clear and open. It was better than I could have imagined. The small stretch of beach was quiet and inviting; I could definitely understand why Elliott had made it his home. I approached his cabin, knocking softly on the door. After a few seconds passed, he emerged from behind the creaking wooden door. 

"Ah, ____. What a surprise," he greeted me. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I wanted to stop by," I said.

"Not at all," he replied. "Do come in." He took a step back, holding the door open as I entered. 

His home was small and quaint, familiar somehow. Though I hadn't known Elliott long, I immediately took notice of how fitting it seemed for him. A large upright piano sat against the back wall, and I silently wondered if I'd ever get the chance to hear him play. In the corner was a small writing desk, almost overflowing with crumpled papers. He must have followed my gaze.

"Please excuse the mess, I wasn't expecting company," he said, almost blushing. 

"It's no problem," I assurred him. "You have a lovely home."

"It's just enough for a hermit like me," he chuckled. 

I continued on, looking about the room, noticing the smaller things. A couple potted plants, a painting of a small green cube, and a red book on an end table in the corner. His bed was neatly made, and both the header and footboard featured intricate carvings. I made my way to the center of the room before turning back around to look at him. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, and I realized I had almost forgotten why I came. 

"I brought this for you," I said, reaching into my bag and handing him the tupperware container. "It's a fruit salad, I wanted to thank you for encouraging me to stay in Pelican Town. You were right." 

"Oh, ____, you shouldn't have!" he said exitedly. "It looks marvelous." 

"I really wasn't sure what to make for you, I hope you like it." 

Elliott went to set it down on his desk, but paused. "Hmmm, you'll have to excuse me for a moment," he said, handing the container back to me. The next thing I knew, he was fluttering around the room, clearing off his desk and moving it out from its place against the wall. He disappeared into a walk-in closet on the far end of the room and emerged with a fold-out chair and a place setting for each of us, which he quickly arranged on the makeshift dining table. 

"That's more like it," he said proudly. "Sorry for that, I usually eat at my desk alone. Shall we?" he gestured to one of the open chairs while taking his place behind it, waiting. I thanked him as he helped me into my seat. He sat down opposite from me and pushed up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, exposing his lean forearms. I had to fight the urge to stare. 

"So, things on the old farm are finally looking up?" he asked as he began to scoop our servings onto the plates. 

"Absolutely, it just took a little more getting used to than I had hoped," I answered honestly. 

"I'm glad to hear it. I myself had a hard time adjusting to my new life here, you know." 

"I never would have guessed," I admitted. 

"Well, I've always wanted to be a writer. It's why I moved here in the first place, I just wanted a nice, quiet life by the sea so I could focus on my literary asperations. But everyone back home told me I was crazy, that I would never make it," he explained.

"That's awful," I said. "I'm so sorry they put you down like that." 

"Bunch of pessimists," he said. "But when I got here, I was having trouble getting my novel started. Every idea that came to me seemed so juvenile. I started to doubt myself. I thought they were right, and I should never have come here." 

"...But?" I urged, looking up at him with an encouraging smile. 

"I stuck it out, things got better. I still haven't finished my novel, but I'm working on it. Sometimes I still have my doubts, but it's all part of the process, ____." 

"Well, for what it's worth, I believe in you," I said.

"I know that. I could tell from the moment we met, you've got that spark," he smiled shyly, before turning his attention back to his plate and taking a bite. 

"____, this is delicious. Thank you for bringing it, it's not very often that I get to eat something made fresh from home." 

"Of course," I replied. "I'm glad you like it." 

  We continued to eat and make small talk, and before I knew it, the sun was beginning to set. There was a natural pause in conversation, and for once the silence wasn't too terribly uncomfortable. I had begun to really enjoy spending time with Elliott, and though I wasn't quite ready to leave, I surely didn't want to overstay my welcome.

"Well, I should probably be on my way soon," I said, reaching for the now empty container and placing it back in my bag. Elliott rose from his seat and held a hand out to help me up from mine. "It was lovely seeing you again, ____," he said. "Feel free to come visit me any time you need a break from your labors." 

"I might just have to take you up on that," I replied, heading for the door.

"Oh, ____. Before I forget," he called as I turned the doorknob. "What kind of books do you like?" 

I paused to think for a moment before answering. "Romance, I guess. Now that I think about it, it's just about all I read." 

"I'll remember that," he nodded.



AN 6/10: Heyo so I know I said I'd update every Sunday and Wednesday but honestly I'm a little stuck writing the next part so it may be a couple days late don't hate me. I'll definitely try to be back on track soon. 

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