Chapter Text
Year 1, Winter
Looking at the new farmer makes Pam’s bones hurt.
They’re young, she muses, watching them speed by her as she walks to JojaMart. They’re always running places, with a massive backpack jingling behind them. Sometimes, they stop by her and put their bag onto the ground to pull out a gift for her- she appreciates the fresh fruit and drinks, but winces every time she can hear the weight hitting the ground. And they pick it back up like it’s nothing!
She would say they remind her of a younger her… but well. Pam’s never been a go-getter, even when her back didn’t hurt and her joints weren’t stiff.
The energy isn’t what makes them odd, though. Pelican Town is close-knit, sure, but nobody’s quite this nice.
Pam’s not an idiot. She knows the farmer helps Penny clean the house when her bottles and laundry pile up, even if Penny wants to pretend she’s stopped complaining about the mess by herself. She can guess how long it took for their chickens to lay all the eggs Gus put into that big omelette. And they thought they were being sneaky, but she knows she didn’t have enough fish in her bucket to beat them or Willy at the Festival of Ice last week.
Maybe nice isn’t the right word. Jodi is nice, but she pretends she doesn’t see Pam sometimes when they pass each other. Caroline is nice, but she’s too strict on that Abigail, and way too loud about her kid’s hair colour and hobbies for someone who Pam remembers doing the exact same shit when they were younger.
No, the new farmer is kind.
Pam can be five deep at Gus’ and they’ll still try to talk to her and everyone else. For her birthday last year they cooked her a big bowl of glazed yams- and she’ll never admit it, but she saved some for lunch the next day because she couldn’t bear to eat it all in one sitting. Penny tries, but it’s been decades since a meal has tasted so much like when things were simpler.
That’s what Pam is thinking when she puts her coat on and heads out of the trailer after lunch. She bypasses the Saloon entirely, pulling the lapel up higher as she steps onto the beach and the sea air nips at her. All challengers welcome at Squidfest!, the sign greets her. Ignoring the squish of her boots in the wet sand, she trudges down the pier until she sees a familiar hat at the end. Then she plops down on the cold wood.
The farmer doesn’t notice her, huffing at their line every time they pull up a herring or sardine. It’s not until their line starts going crazy and their face squeezes in concentration that Pam knows they’re fighting a squid, and leans forward to watch.
Eventually the line reels far out and snaps back, and the farmer lets out a whoop as they pull a massive squid out of the water.
“Good catch, kid!” she yells, raising her bottle to them when they turn to look.
“Pam!” they smile, unhooking the squirming squid and dropping it into a bucket she notices is already pretty full. They set their rod down and trot over.
“Looks like it’s going great,” she gestures to their bucket. They laugh as they squat by her. “All in a day’s work, ma’am! Are you here to try for the prizes too?”
She guffaws, shaking her head. “You may have let me win the ice fishing contest, but squid are out of my league, kid.” she jabs, and their face, already ruddy from the cold, gets even redder as they flounder for words.
“Relax, I’m not mad. Hey, I’m just glad for a free hook!” she takes another swig, and their face relaxes, then brightens before they rummage around in their overalls pocket, pulling out a thermos and handing it to her. The steam is welcome as it hits her cold skin, and the smell is heavenly.
“Is this clam chowder?” Pam takes a sip and savours the salt, the chunks of soft potato. “You did good with this one, kid. Thanks!”
Their face positively glows at her offhanded remark; there’s that kindness again. Pam takes another sip to hide the goofy smile spreading across her face as they trot back down the pier and pick up their rod.
She watches as they attach more wriggling bait onto the hook, square their posture and cast. As if they can sense her looking, they turn around and smile at her again.
This time Pam can’t help but smile back. Yeah, kind is a pretty good word for the new farmer in town.