Chapter Text
Wren knelt in front of her wardrobe, dragging out old boxes from the bottom shelf. Sighing, she opened one to go through her belongings. It was mostly junk with some treasured old pictures, a stuffed cow toy, her favourite boots from 10 years ago, and a letter.
Wren frowned at the letter. She had had enough of letters lately. She was only going through her belongings, desperately trying to reduce her clutter, because of a letter pushed into her hand a few days before, a signed eviction notice from her landlord.
Sighing, she picked the new letter up and turned it over to look at the front. Her breath hissed out, her name had been scribbled on messily. It was her grandfather's handwriting.
Trembling, she carefully opened the envelope, mindful to not tear her Grandfather's writing. Inside was another envelope with a thick purple seal, and a letter:
My Dearest Wren,
I don't have the words for this, but I reckon I should give it a try for you.
I'm not one for flowery words or phrases, that was your Grandma, bless her soul. But, I hope you know every grunt and grumble was my way of saying I love you. You've been a blessing to us, my sunshine since the day you were born. You have helped me to grow into a better man, a grandfather.
Wren, my girl, life is a long, rugged journey full of twists and turns. Remember that, alright? You need to be strong, not in the brute force way, but the determined way. Now, you're already determined, fierce too, you're my girl after all, but you need the strength of resolve to stand tall and keep standing.
You've got a heart full of courage, you're spirited too, just like the wrens in that old oak. When life throws its curveballs at you, face 'em head-on. You're strong enough to face anything, you just gotta believe in yourself.
And if you ever find yourself feeling lost in this big world, remember where you come from, you might find the answer. If you're not sure where you come from, then it's about time to open the other letter, but only then!
Now Wren, my dear granddaughter, it's time to say goodbye. I love you dearly, little wren.
Soar high, sing loud. You bring joy to all who have the pleasure of knowing you.
All my love,
Grandpa
Wren's eyes blurred, she had to rub them frequently to keep reading, and when she reached the end of the letter, she read it again. She cursed when her tears dripped onto the paper, stopping to rub her face against a scarf. Moving onto her bed, she curled herself into a ball under the covers and read the letter until she fell asleep.
She spent the next week like this. Working during the day, trying to sort through her belongings in the evenings, and distracted by the letter the whole time. Thankfully, it was the weekend, and she had two days to pack and sort.
Wren leaned against the kitchen counter, waited for her coffee to finish brewing and yawned. Her eyes drifted until they rested on the sealed envelope, sighing she reached for it.
Remember where you come from.
Wren wasn't sure if she knew where she came from or if she had given up trying to figure it out. Did that count? She put the envelope back down, her nails drumming against the countertop. Picking it back up, she inspected it again. The paper was ivory, and thick, expensive with a purple wax seal, the letters P T embossed in it. Was that supposed to be a clue, she wondered. The coffee machine beeped much to Wren's relief, she needed the energy this morning. Stirring in the milk and sugar, she thought about the P T. What is PT? It felt familiar, but she couldn't place why. Shrugging, she sipped her coffee and gasped, burning her lip.
Alright, she thought, I don't know where I come from, Wren laughed bitterly. There, she had decided it then. She did not know where she came from, she did not know where she was going and she did not know where she belongs. She picked up the envelope again, her fingers brushing over the seal.
She decided it was time to open the letter. Sliding her finger under the paper, she wiggled down to the seal and popped it off. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she opened the envelope fully and took out the letter to read it.
Inside the envelope was the deed to the farm with Wren's name on it. The deed that her father looked for 10 years ago. The deed he had been told was put into trust with the mayor of Pelican Town. Wren remembered what P T stood for; Pelican Town.
STARDEW VALLEY
0.5 MILES
Wren's fingers drummed against the steering wheel of her car as she passed the sign for Stardew Valley. Checking her car mirrors quickly, she looked at the once-familiar view out of the window and smiled. The crest of the valley was a steep mountain, with forest sweeping up the sides and across, a small break in the centre for the quaint little town: Pelican Town. Right at the end of the valley was the ocean, a sea between the valley and a small tropical island. Turning her attention back to the road, Wren tried to focus and ignore the bubbling sensation in her stomach. The drumming of her fingers on the steering wheel became rapid, as did the beat of her heart.
She missed the turn-off for the farm. The sign was completely overgrown with ivy and vines, splitting the old wood. She found the turn again and followed the old road to her Grandpa's farm. The road was completely overgrown, plants breaking through the cracks in the tarmac and splitting fences. Trees and bushes pressed against the sides of her small car as she navigated the even smaller gap with an awful screeching noise from the overgrowth that scratched the sides. Every squeak and groan wound Wren tighter and tighter. She felt her jaw would break and snap clean from her skull under the pressure.
The end of the road was creeping closer, light breaking in the line of trees. Wren sighed at the sight and relaxed her shoulders. She could see the farmhouse, or at least it should have been the farmhouse. As she got closer, she decided it absolutely could not be the farmhouse.
This was a shed.
A shed with a chimney stuck on top.
She pulled the car up in front of the mailbox and stopped to stare open-mouthed at the shed-turned-house, hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel. The paint was cracked and peeling revealing the swollen, damp wood underneath. The roof was brown instead of red, worn, weathered, and strangely patchy, and the decking had holes and dents, some panels broken or completely missing. Broken flower pots littered the ground, along with discarded wheels, trash and an old mattress. She froze, staring at the house. She hadn’t been to the farm since her Grandpa died, so she was expecting some neglect. But this?
The last time Wren visited the farm, she helped her Grandpa paint the farmhouse off-white. He sent her off to pull the weeds growing around the porch and foundations whilst he climbed the roof to clear the moss, leaves and gunk from the tiles and drains. Grandpa added a roof to the porch that summer. He told Wren he was getting old, and old men wanted to watch their fields without getting rained on, so he added the roof and moved two chairs outside, one each of them.
Sighing through gritted teeth, Wren forced herself to climb out of the car. She stumbled over the uneven ground muttering curses to herself, making her way to the front of the house where she stood and stared at the ruined fields. She could feel herself sinking into the field, the weeds growing over her and dragging her down, down, down, trapped under the weight of it all until her body turned to stone. On her knees in the dirt, her eyes blurred and burned.
From behind her, the door slammed and the porch steps groaned. A woman called her name, their voice warm and familiar with the soft lilt of the valley accent.
Robin groaned, kneeling in the dirt and bumping gently against the younger woman. "Hey, kid."
Wren glanced at the older woman, offering a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Hey."
Robin gazed out over the fields, there was a lot of work to get the farm up and running again. One look at Wren, and she could tell it was too much, overwhelming her. The young woman was desperately trying to hold it together, scrunching her shoulders in over it, the shock, the sadness, the disappointment was falling out from her sides. Robin sighed, wrapping her arm around the young woman's shoulders and squeezing firmly. They sat for a while, Wren scrunched up as she held parts of herself together, and Robin holding the other parts.
The cloud cover broke, releasing the sun from its sky prison and bathing the valley in soft, golden light. The wildflowers glowed under the sun's rays, gently swaying in the light, spring breeze. Robin smiled softly as she gazed, "It's beautiful here."
Wren's brow furrowed as she looked at the older woman, her cheeks wet and red.
Robin looked at Wren and smiled gently, before turning her attention back to the swaying grasses. “I know it looks bad,” sighing, she continued, “and there's a lot of work to do.” She picked up a branch nearby, and dug it into the ground, scratching and scraping at the surface of the dirt. “But, underneath all this is good soil, you just need to find it.” She turned her attention back to Wren, her eyes red-rimmed and watery staring up at Robin. “This,” she dropped the stick and gestured at the fields, “is a good thing. It's a fresh start. This isn't your Grandfather's farm anymore and it hasn't been his for a long time. This is your farm now, your land, for you to do what you want to do with it. It doesn't have to be a farm, it can be whatever you want it to be.” She looked from Wren back to the field and smiled softly, “This is nature's way of giving you a blank slate. You have to put some work into it, sure, but anything worth doing is work.”
Wren followed Robin's gaze to the field and watched the grasses sway. It wasn't her grandpa's farm anymore. The words played in her mind, it wasn't Grandpa's farm anymore.
It wasn't Grandpa's farm anymore because he was dead.
It wasn't Grandpa's farm anymore because he left it to Wren.
He left it to Wren.
He left it to Wren.
Robin opened and closed her mouth wanting to say something, struggling to find the words.
Wren noticed from the corner of her eye, "What is it?", she asked, her voice soft.
Robin stared straight ahead, "When I moved to the valley, I was around your age, maybe a bit younger. I was a young, recently divorced single parent." Robin smiled to herself, a small nostalgic smile. "Your grandparents helped me out a lot. Nell, your Grandmother, would watch Sebby for me so I could go to work, and your Grandpa is why I am a carpenter, he believed I could be. It's thanks to them I am where I am today.
Robin picked a long piece of grass and played with it in her hands. "When I moved to the valley, I was a bit younger than you are. I was lost, young, recently divorced and a single parent to boot. I didn't know where to go and found myself here because of a job listing I found in the paper for a farm hand, board included. Your grandparents took one look at me on that doorstep, suitcase in one hand, baby in the other and that was it. I got the job." Robin smiled to herself, a small nostalgic smile. "I was a rubbish farm hand," she chuckled to herself, "The cows hated me and I couldn't tell the difference between a crop and a weed, but they kept me anyway."
Robin sighed to herself, picking another blade of grass and continued her story, "Your grandfather noticed I whittled some toys for Seb, thought I had a knack for it and set up one of the sheds for me to use as a workshop, no charge. I tried arguing that I should pay and he'd hear none of it, so I went to the one in charge." She looked at Wren and smirked, "Your grandmother smacked my arm with the newspaper and told me off, they wanted to help and as long as I would let them, then they would. You didn't argue with Nell, and I needed help so it was decided they would help."
Robin fixed Wren with her gaze, smiling gently at the young woman. "Anyway, I'm telling you this because I want you to know you're not alone. Your grandparents helped me when I needed it. You look like you need help, and I want to help, if you'll let me."
Wren thought about Robins's words, all of them and she smiled gently at her. "Thank you." She reached for Robin's hand, still fiddling with the grass, and squeezed it, "Thank you for talking about my Grandparents. It's nice to hear about them from someone else, and thank you for telling me how they helped you."
Robin squeezed her hand back, nodding her head, "Anytime, kid. Your grandparents welcomed me into their family, and I'm welcoming you into mine."
Robin pushed herself up from the ground, her knees creaking, and groaned, "Oof, alright, come on now, up we get." She reached her hand down for Wren to help pull her up, and grinned, "Mayor Lewis is inside waiting for us."
Wren grinned sheepishly at Robin and took her hand to be pulled up. "Oops. I didn't realise he was waiting."
"Ah, don't worry about Lewis. He'll be fussing over something inside, probably remaking the bed, again." Robin brushed off Wren's concerns with a wave and a chuckle. She stopped with a sigh and smiled at Wren. She looks like Nell, she thought.
Wren giggled softly and wondered how many times the bed had been made ready for her arrival and dusted the dirt and grass off her legs. Turning to face the house, she took a deep breath and readied herself.
Robin put her arm around, grateful to be taller than one of the kids at least, Wren's shoulders and led her up the creaking steps and to her front door. Once there, she paused and looked to Wren, "Ready?"
Wren nodded her head, lips pursed together in front of the door, her door. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
Robin grinned, “After you.”
Wren pushed the door open and stepped inside the house. It smelled of sawdust and varnish, and a lighter, sweet smell. On an old table, there was a glass jar filled with fresh daffodils, and a chair was tucked neatly underneath. All of the woodwork had been replaced and varnished before her arrival, the planks shining softly. The old fireplace had been recently repaired, and fresh mortar was bright against the old stones. An old TV, a relic Wren thought, was near the fire and carefully positioned for the sofa in the middle of the room. There was a closed-off room creating a bump out where a small kitchenette had been built, ready with a stove, half fridge and lots of overhead cupboards. Wren assumed the closed room was a bathroom as she could see a bed, freshly made with checkered blankets.
Hanging from the mantlepiece of the fire was a 'Welcome Home' sign, its letters freshly painted in bright red. Home. Wren felt a lump form in her throat at the word.
Lewis was waiting inside as Robin said he would be, his hands clasped together, quietly twiddling his thumbs. Wren recognised him immediately, he looked the same as he did when she was a kid, just older and greyer.
Lewis grinned when he saw Wren, “It’s good to see you, Wren. Welcome home.” He stretched his arms out, gesturing to the house.
“Thank you, Mayor.” Wren smiled at Lewis, then at Robin. “This... Thank you, both of you. I don't know what to say.” Wren smiled with her lips pursed, her cheeks warming.
"I'm glad you like it, Wren," Robin said with a smile while gesturing towards the mayor. "Lewis organized everything! He took care of the permits and rallied everyone to help. So many people came to help in their own way. I even convinced Sebby to come out of his room and lend a hand." Robin chuckled, shaking her head as she recalled her son's complaints over the past few weeks. He had done a great job though, despite his complaints.
Lewis nodded in agreement. “I am very proud of the way our town came together, including Sebastian.”
Robin's smile broadened, “It was a real team effort. We never would have finished without everyone helping.”
Wren walked around the house listening to Robin and Lewis as they filled her in on all the ways the townspeople came together for her Grandpa’s farm. For her farm. She touched everything, running her fingers gently over every surface, she opened every cupboard taking it all in, and even found an old coffee machine. Her curiosity was one of the reasons, but it also gave her something to do that wasn’t cry. Wren was amazed that so many people that she barely knew would go to such lengths to help her. Growing up in a city where it was every man for themselves, she couldn't remember the last time she had experienced kindness without expectation. It probably hadn’t been since her Grandpa had died.
Wren blinked rapidly and fought back tears. She yawned and turned to Robin and Lewis. “This is amazing.” She gestured around the house. “How much do I owe everyone? Could we make a payment plan work? I had to use my savings recently-”
“Woah, kid, it’s fine. You don’t owe me anything, though you’re not allowed to go to any other carpenter, got it?” Robin waved off Wren’s question and then folded her hands on her hips.
Lewis nodded his head in agreement. “We helped because we wanted to, Wren. Most of us were good friends of your grandfather, think of it as a favour owed.” Lewis stood straight, his hands folded in front of him looking directly at Wren. He was glad to have had the opportunity to help Wren, it felt like helping his old friend once more.
Wren nodded, her gaze shifting to the floor. She nudged her feet together, her breath shaky. Robin crossed the room quietly and wrapped the young woman in a hug, gently rubbing her back. She didn't say anything, just let Wren cry into her shoulder.
Lewis stood off to the side, smiling softly at her. “Welcome Home, Wren.” his voice soft and low.
Before leaving, Robin instructed Wren to take it easy for the rest of the day. Lewis informed Wren that Gus had sent her a few dinners and he hoped she would like them. The dinners were in the fridge for her to eat whenever she wanted. As they were leaving, they also told her that they would see her on Friday evening at the saloon. Lewis was smiling and Robin was grinning, leaving no room for arguments. Wren sniffled softly and chuckled, nodding her head in agreement that she would see them on Friday.
Wren waved goodbye to them as they left, then stepped back inside the house and leaned against the closed door to take a moment for herself. While she was grateful to Robin, Lewis and everyone else who had helped to get the house ready for her, she was relieved to finally have some time to herself to process her day. Smiling to herself, the sign hanging from the mantle caught her attention, 'Welcome Home'.
Home.