Disclaimer: I own nothing. Relevant Harvest Moon boffins don't even know of my existence.

Warnings: Chase and Maya rival marriage highly prevalent but this is a Chase/Angela story.

Summary: Seven years have passed since the restoration of Waffle Island. Her saviour has moved on to other pastures, and those left behind tie up the loose ends in their lives. Chase has married Maya and succeeded Sundae Inn. He caters to the mainland and neighbouring islands, making a name for himself. It's the Happily Ever After, and yet some things don't seem to fit. Especially when a ghost of a farmgirl returns and Chase begins to question every decision he's made up until this point.

Introduction: Seven Years

As all great adventures begin; the moon hung pregnant and waiting in the East.

I was asleep, as was my wife, but outside our humble doors the earth was stirring. Something inexplicable and strange was rising to touch the island anew; feather light and without meaning...

At least to those that cannot see.

Maya was like an electric current.

In the mornings when I had no trouble getting up she would already be ahead of me, tucking the bedclothes smooth and brushing away the kinks in her hair. A current in a river is something that had the potential of a swift deadliness until you want only to submit, but electrically charged there was something in it that provoked my stubbornness. Until the pleasant morning routine had become something of a chore.

"Ngh...Chase...just move your...butt!" She gasped, pulling my pillow out from under my head. It thumped back upon the mattress with a force that rattled my teeth but a smile still slipped upon my lips. She huffed again, "I knew you were awake."

Outside the familiar sounds of the island coming to life filtered past lightly billowed curtains. Hens pecked, leaves rustled, the waves lapped at the beaches peaceably, and neighbours greeted at their doors over morning coffee. In the months of late I found it neigh on impossible to walk into town without some measure of bounce creeping into his step; this place was truly an Eden in this way.

With velocity only a fully conscious man could muster, I pulled her back upon the sheets and tousled her hair. "It's Sunday," I breathed, tugging her close. "Don't you think you could be a bit gentler?" I was rewarded with some reluctant glee barely disguised in her voice.

"Yes, it's Sunday. And you're on the clock!" She wriggled free, but not before he caught the scent of strawberries upon her skin. I started when she made an abrupt turn and pouted darkly.

"I think you promised breakfast."

"And here I thought you understood pillow talk."

The stolen bedding slammed back against my nose. She could still stomp a foot affectedly without the help of little-girl shoes. "Just get up will you? You'll miss the boat and then you'll blame me!"

I tried my sweetest smile in apology, stretching like a cat and retrieving a fresh shirt. She left with little more than an exaggerated glare.

This house was too small.

Padding my bare feet along the small alcove to the bathroom was like twisting a whole fish out of a sardine tin intact. I yawned, skirting around extraneous objects that didn't have a place to call home. Anymore than this and I worried that the place might burst at the seams, so I was thankful for the fact that Maya was yet to grow too broody. A third person in here would test the already diminishing fortitude. It was guilty but some part of me longed for those bachelor days when there was no one else between these tidy walls. We would need to buy a bigger one.

I yawned while habitually turning up my sleeves cuffs and pushing the hair out of my face.

In the kitchen my wife was dressed in her pink and apron and pouring meticulously over a steaming mug. When she presented it to me the cream and chocolate powder was arranged to perfection but an acrid smell arrested my senses.

"Your coffee!" she exclaimed proudly, looking every bit as guileless as she had when she was a child. My tension softened.

"Thank you," I took the cup.

She didn't wait to watch me slurp the topping, careful to keep the ripeness of the actual brew far from my taste buds; she glanced at the time and recommenced her fretting. Flustered over a mere five minutes of tardiness, she threw a careless kiss toward my cheek and disappeared out the door. Quiet engulfed the room. Thinking back, I couldn't remember ever noticing it like this, but perhaps I just never took the time. I collected a pile of hair pins from their discarded place on the side table and went to work.

The light outside was fierce, leaving me with the desire for sunglasses. Amongst walking and squinting, pinning those wayward curls away and trying not to drop my case full of paperwork, it was a surprise I didn't skid into town on a loosened sandal. By the time I reached the pier Pascal was already holding the springline and puffing steadily on his pipe. I hailed him and he wordlessly tipped his hat. The display left no room for argument; I was lucky this time.

Upon the good ship Mermaid, the sea air undid the effort on my hair; spray trickled over the sides of the bow and clung to my clothing. It was both the joy and the curse of the sea: a sailor was never tidy even while his quarters were impeccable. On a cruiser it might take little more than two hours to reach the mainland, but a bigger vessel like this took twice the time. I settled into the breeze and allowed my mind to wander.

It was another long day before the dim lamps of Waffle Town welcomed me home. Thankful for the years of late hours and gruelling labour I wasn't exhausted yet, but lethargy crept into my appearance. Pascal waved me, his lone returning fare, off with a salty grin; no doubt wishing the bar didn't close so early at the end of his work week.

I rubbed at my eyes. Would Maya still be awake for a midnight snack? Or would I still be apologizing tomorrow for the lack of breakfast?

In this opaque light I thought I glimpsed a firefly or two take flight from the reeds, but upon a second glance saw only darkness. The night melted at the edges of the shoreline; cocooning the island in its own idealistic bubble. Another day lost, another endeavour come to a close.

I finally had a kitchen: a grubby great warehouse of a room with outdated equipment and enough pantry space to supply an army. With this our expanding catering business would finally take shape. Over the past two years as the island attracted new visitors I had taken extensive orders for parties and events through the inn. Yolanda was retired and formally satisfied to hand over her mantle. Jake and Coleen were more than happy to allow me the extra freedom and Maya stood loyally at my side. I had always been more interested in the preparation side of things than running a business but before I could reflect on what was happening I was already testing my bookkeeping abilities and thriving in a world I hardly understood. It was as thrilling as it was on the rare occasion mind-numbing. But if I was anything I was proud, and admitting defeat was not yet an option.

There was that same secret voice: was this what I wanted? Was this the end-all for me? I quashed the anxiety as I had before. If anything it was probably born from my age old inability to accept responsibility. But I had grown up now.

Another flicker of light stole my eye. Eager to catch it this time I leapt a step closer without warning. A shriek, a shove, the darkness filled my eyeballs; instantly I had collided with something warm and soft. We tumbled through the reed together in a tussle of limbs and ungainly sounds.

At the bottom I lost my breath, a heavy weight upon my chest and two clawed hands tight around my forearms. I was ready to fling the culprit wide and smash my remaining shoe into his face but something stopped me. Familiarity: the scent of freshly tilled soil, a tickle of hair upon my cheek, that softness in its grip that rang all kinds of distant alarm bells.

"Chase?" the offending person panted. That voice. My vision was no clearer.

"...Angela?" I tried, finding little confidence in my own tone. She leapt off of me like a thing stung.

Suddenly the lights were all around us; unquestionably fireflies this time. The blinked like little signal beams from the underworld as they rose to the sky. I had never seen so many, nor had they been as much earlier when they avoided my vigilant gaze. They exploded together in tiny streams of light, all but eradicating the obscurity of the night.

It had been seven years since I last saw Angela. Seven years since she'd moved on. When she'd arrived a few months before I could return the island was little more than a dusty and barren rock, a mere shadow of the former paradise it had been a generation before ours. The older residents could see both the obvious and abstract fluctuations and yet they'd expected nothing from the young female farmer from the mainland. She was sweet yet insubstantial as a fawn; why should they? And yet it had been she to blend in so faultlessly. To become an island daughter like none before. To provide the necessary love and care for the land enough even to revive it; to save them all. Seven years had passed and there wasn't a soul who lived here who doubted her hand in the miracle.

Her features became vividly discernible. Everything was exactly as I had remembered, right down to the thin smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Seven years had passed and she had hardly aged a day.

A/N: I thought I might be alright, but as Dissedi has taught me I'm not ready to move on from these characters, so here I am again.

I wanted to keep with the genre of Supernatural because it's that unique side to these loveable farming games that I've enjoyed exploiting in the past. So to those of you returning... Thank you, I hope I can promise some more of a similar mystery, to those of you reading me for the first time: it's a pleasure to meet you, please enjoy.

This is a fairly short introduction but I didn't want to frighten anyone away with an overabundance of Maya moments, or drag out the initial meeting with Angela until it became unnatural. Don't worry, there's a lot more to it than just this…

Thank you for reading, please review and come back for the next instalment… I wouldn't bother writing so much if it weren't for your wonderful people.