Page 28 of Harvest Moon

A tentative beta about my age opened the door and offered me a smile. “Hi. It’s, um, Alexis, right?”

I stuck out my hand. “Yep. Alexis Mena.”

He shook with me, then opened the door to invite me in. “I’m Rowan Grove. Were you meeting someone, or is this about Linden’s offer of the mess of camping stuff in the garage?” He glanced around and leaned in. “I confess, I’d kind of like to see it gone. At this point, it’s just a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“It was Dad and Aspen’s. Not that Dad used it much after Aspen left, but... at this point, all it does is gather dust and remind Linden that Aspen is gone.” Again, he looked around, as though he was worried someone might be listening. He was one of the most tentative betas I’d met in my life. More like what everyone thought an omega should be, that I was always failing at. “He and Aspen were pretty close, you know, before. They’re less than two years apart, and—well, and then Aspen left. Didn’t tell anyone he was going, or why. Just went.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to say, but—he was sort of approaching me on the level omegas usually did. Personal, confiding. So I went with it. “That sounds really stressful for everyone.”

Rowan sighed and nodded as he reached a door, turning back to me. “Tell me about it. Three alpha siblings is... a lot. So much drama, all the time.”

I winced. That did seem like a lot to deal with.

He didn’t seem to expect an answer, just led me into the garage, where I almost died.

Sitting across three sawhorses was the canoe. It had to be the one they’d been talking about. It wasn’t one of the shiny plastic or fiberglass models you could get in any outdoor shop. It was wooden, and it looked hand carved. Like, decoratively hand carved, with patterned scrollwork along the edge.

I stared for a long time, and even reached out to run a hand along the side of the treated wood. “Rowan,” I finally whispered, as reverently as if I were in a church. “This isn’t a canoe. It’s a piece of art. You guys can’t let me take this out on water. It should be in a museum.”

Rowan, far from impressed, snorted. “It’s the product of my dad holding a grudge against some guy who once tried to date my mom.” He reached out and knocked on it, producing a beautiful deep tone from the wood. “Don’t get me wrong, I hear you. It’s very pretty. But we don’t have a museum in Grovetown, and out here, it’s just gathering dust.”

I looked back at him, biting my lip and nodding. “Okay. Yeah, okay, that makes sense, but... just give me a little time to think about it, okay? There’s got to be something better to do with this than just slinging it out on the water and getting it messed up.”

He shrugged. “Well, Linden said it’s all yours, so feel free to do whatever you want with it. Heck, you wanna sell it? Raffle it off for charity? Go for it.” He turned and motioned to an entire wall of industrial-looking metal shelves filled with dusty gear. “Then you’ve got tents and lanterns and sleeping bags and fishing things and... honestly, it’s just a whole bunch of outdoor stuff, and none of us are really into that.”

Like the canoe, the camping gear was top quality. I ran my fingers across the top of a dusty fishing tackle box. There was a name embossed in the plastic: Aspen Grove Junior. Their brother.

It was sad enough thinking about the Grove family getting rid of their dead father’s expensive gear—at least if someone took it, there was a chance of it being used in the future, and that was good, wasn’t it?

But this wasn’t just that. Their brother was still alive, as far as anyone had said, and they wanted to get rid of his too.

They had accepted that their brother was never coming home. There was no reason to keep it all anymore.

“I don’t know if Claudia and Birch really have room for so much stuff,” I hedged. Something about making off with their brother’s stuff felt wrong. Like even if they didn’t see it, I was an interloper.

He waved my worries away. “We can keep it here as long as you need. It’ll just be nice to have someone using it, you know? It’s good stuff. It’s a waste to have it sitting here doing nothing.”

And that? That was fair. “Yeah, I get it. And if all you want is to put it to good use, I’m your guy. But I think before I go carting off your stuff, I need to start at the beginning.”

“There’s a beginning?”

I grinned at him. “Hiking, of course. I have to scout the area. See what there is to see. So I guess partially I came to ask where to start.”

He laughed at that. “Fair enough. I guess a fishing pole isn’t going to do you a lot of good in Claudia and Birch’s backyard.” He wandered over to one of the shelves against the far wall, rifling through the objects on it before coming back with a rolled sheet of paper. “Here ya go. Don’t ask me why Dad kept a map with fishing spots marked when he had them all memorized, but it works out in your favor now.”

He spread the map across a worktable, and I sneezed at the dust it kicked up. When my vision cleared, it was like a fog had lifted to reveal a treasure hoard.

The mapwasa treasure.

It was the whole area for miles around, with all the usual topographical features, but then, in neat, all-caps handwriting were notes, with little arrows pointing to spots. Fishing. Deer. Bear Cave. Grovetown View. Great hiking trail. More fishing.

It was entirely probable that the map information was out of date, but it was something. It was a starting place. And it would be like a real treasure hunt. Could I find all the great things the previous Grove alpha and his son had loved? We would find out.

“You’re my favorite person ever right now,” I whispered to Rowan, and he laughed. “Seriously. Hiking trails as scouted by people who grew up here. This is going to be awesome.”

“Well, more power to you,” he said. “I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my kitchen. Give me flour and apples over trees and live fish every single time.”

---