Harvest Moon

Eleven




Two days after the baking and hunting, Courtney spent a little time with Jerry Powell. It was her regular weekly appointment. She found it so strange that when Lief told her she was looking great, she figured he was just screwing with her, that what he really meant was that she was looking normal. When Kelly and Jillian said it, they were just sucking up. When Gabe Tahoma said it, she felt like a cute little girl, not on par with someone he would want for a girlfriend. But for some reason when Jerry Powell told her she was looking good, it mattered. And she believed him.

“Well, you look older, that’s for sure,” he said.

“I’d like to look taller,” she said.

He chuckled and said, “I’d like to look just a little shorter. How’s life been treating you lately?”

She shrugged. “I’m not suicidal.”

“I love the way you throw me these freebies, Courtney. And I’m very happy about that. Does that mean you’re marginally happy?”

“Yes. Marginally.”

“Which are the happy parts this week?”

“Well, I’m getting the puppy pretty soon. Right after Thanksgiving. When he’s about seven weeks. I didn’t know when I picked him out that he was going to be the biggest one in the litter.”

“Are you ready for the puppy?”

“Ready?”

“I mean, do you have supplies for him?”

“Oh, yeah. Some. Collar, bowls, leash, chew toys, bed.” Then she made a face. “Cage.”

“What’s up with the cage?” he asked. “I mean, the way you said it sounded pretty unhappy.”

“Lief says the dog has to be in a cage when we’re not home or watching him. He said the dog will destroy things and pee and poop on the rug.”

“I think that’s a true statement, Courtney,” Jerry said. “Puppies are chew monsters for a couple of years. Not to mention the other issues.”

“But a cage?”

“I think it’s referred to as crate training…”

“It’s still a cage!”

“Courtney, have you looked this up on the internet? I think the whole crate-training philosophy is as much to keep the puppy safe as the house.”

She dropped her chin. “So it says…”

“But—as long as you’re attentive, you can have him out. Right?” Jerry asked.

“Right,” she said, not happy. “I hate to think of him trapped while I’m at school. That’s not how they do it on the farm.”

“I know. But that’s a farm. This is going to be a house dog without a pack to raise him. Correct?”

“Coooo-rect,” she said, sarcasm dripping from the word.

“So. Anything else on your mind?”

“Lief has a girlfriend now for sure.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I knew it was coming. We were having dinner there way too much for it to be just an ordinary friend.”

“You like her?”

“Not that much,” she said. “I mean, she’s all right, but nothing special. But I know it’s a girlfriend because he’s happier. Lots happier.”

“Isn’t that good?”

She shrugged. “I told her what you said to tell her,” she said. “That I do not want a mother.”

“I see. How’d it go?”

“Fine,” she said, glancing away. “She’s not looking for a daughter…”

“She said that?”

“Not exactly. Sort of.”

“Care to elaborate?”

She gave a deep sigh. “I mentioned something about her marrying my dad and having kids of her own and she said that had never once crossed her mind. I guess she doesn’t want to be a mother. To anyone.”

“Well, there’s that possibility,” Jerry said. “Or it could be it hasn’t crossed her mind because she hasn’t known your dad that long. Maybe she doesn’t want to have children of her own. But how did she respond to the idea that you are open to friendship?”

Courtney was quiet for a while. Jerry was altogether too patient. He did this a lot, made it clear he wasn’t going to let it go. He waited. And waited. Finally she said, “Might’ve forgotten to mention that.”

“Well,” Jerry said, “I’m sure she got the message you intended.”

“It happened before, you know. My real dad got a divorce from my mom, married someone and had a couple of kids, she didn’t like me, he liked the new ones better, I was in the way at their house, and so on. He was pretty much done with me.”

“Do you think this situation—your dad having a girlfriend—is reminiscent of your previous situation?”

“Why not?”

Jerry’s turn to shrug. “I suppose it could be, but we have to remember that we’re all individuals. Could be entirely different.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m ready to take a chance on that,” Courtney said.

“Tell me what you’re most worried about.”

“Seriously?” she asked with a laugh. “I mean, seriously?”

He gave a nod. “Seriously.”

“Well, worst case, Lief decides he needs a life, so he sends me back to my real dad, who doesn’t want me, who has the wife from hell who screeches at him all the time and two little boys who pull my hair, spit on me and steal my stuff.”

“That sounds horrible,” Jerry said. “Have you told Lief about that?”

She laughed a little wickedly. “Listen, he made me go back a few times after I told him about it….”

“I see,” Jerry said. “Did you ask him why?”

“I knew why,” she said. “After my mom died, he didn’t want to be stuck with me, that’s why. Especially once I started my Goth impersonation.”

Jerry leaned forward. “Courtney, if you want to stay with Lief and don’t want to go back to your dad’s house, wouldn’t it make sense to be a little nicer to the prospective girlfriend?”

“Are you kidding me? I get any nicer, she’s moving right in. And once she moves in, I play second chair, don’t you get that? I don’t mind that as long as I’m just left alone, but I don’t want to go back to my dad’s house.”

“You seem to think you have this all figured out…”

“I know I do.”

“I’m not sure you have it figured out accurately, however. I want to suggest something to you. I think we might try a little family counseling—you and Lief. An open dialogue, to kind of sort through your anxieties. About relationships and your future.”

“Ah… I don’t think I’m ready for that…”

“Can’t really hurt anything,” Jerry said. “It might help.”

“Right, and I’d be ganged up on by the two of you, who both think this girlfriend thing is a good idea. Naw. I can’t do that now. Not now. Things are kind of…okay. I don’t want to mess with it while it’s okay…”

“Courtney, you should talk to Lief about this stuff. He might be able to reassure you, and if he can reassure you, things could be better than just okay for you.”

“I don’t know about that. It might just work him up. Get him mad or something.”

“Well, you’re planning a trip together, right?” Jerry asked.

“To Idaho to his family’s farm. We’re driving. His parents, brothers, sister, nieces and nephews. Lots of them live around there, but we’re staying on the farm.”

“Is the new girlfriend going?”

“No,” Courtney said. “Just me and Lief.”

“Ah,” Jerry said. “Long car ride. That could be a good time for you and Lief to have an honest discussion about the things that worry you. Will you at least consider it?”

Courtney frowned. “I’ll think about it. But to be honest, the thought of bringing it all up just makes my stomach hurt.”

“I understand. The theory behind counseling is that once you actually talk about these things, the stomachache goes away”

“Don’t you tell him, Jerry! Remember, you promised!”

“I never break a confidence, Courtney. But why would you harbor all this fear inside when you could throw your cards on the table, deal with it and move on?”

“Because,” she said firmly. “I have it under control!”



Lief wouldn’t ordinarily endorse Courtney taking a day off from school unless she was sick, but she hadn’t missed any school this year so he went to the principal and asked permission to take her out on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving to accommodate the drive to Idaho. Then they packed the truck on Tuesday night and left it parked in the garage so they could leave very, very early. He dragged Courtney, her pillow and a throw, whining and whimpering, to the truck before five. It was going to be at least a seven-hour drive.

He had also packed sodas on ice, a thermos of coffee, water, some power bars, cookies and sandwiches. It wasn’t a route heavily populated with restaurants.

It was ten before Courtney roused. “Good morning,” he said with a smile, and then he quit talking. He knew her pretty well by now—both the old Courtney and this newer, more unpredictable Courtney. He gave her plenty of time to get adjusted. He was never sure which Courtney would wake up on any given day.

“Ah,” she said, stretching. “Thanks for letting me sleep. Is my hair all wonky?”

He chuckled. “It looks fine. When you’re hungry or thirsty, I have food, cola and bottled water.”

“Oh, you didn’t suck it all down while I was sleeping?” she asked with humor.

“I managed to save you some.”

He concentrated on driving while she woke herself up, had something to eat and drink. Then he said, “We only have a couple of hours left.”

“Good,” she said.

“I hope you’re not too bored while we’re there,” he said.

She just shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

“My brothers’ and sister’s kids and grandkids won’t all be there—but my cousin Jim lives nearby and he has some horses. We could drive over one day and saddle up a couple—I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You and I—we could have a ride. If you want to.”

She sighed heavily.

“Bad idea?”

“Listen, there was something I was meaning to tell you, but it’s a secret, okay?”

His heart dropped in his chest. He never knew what to expect. “Sure,” he said, wondering if that was a promise he could keep.

“I’m afraid of horses. Oh, I’m okay with Blue now. And I kind of got used to a couple of the others. But I’m not a natural, all right? I mean, I don’t regret the riding lessons. I’m glad I did it and I think I should keep doing it. But I’m not that good yet. I couldn’t control a horse I don’t know. And I usually get the runs when I know I’m going to have to get up on the horse.”

Lief gave a bark of a laugh. “Really?” he asked.

“You think it’s funny?” she asked, insulted to her core.

“I think it’s funny you didn’t tell me and you’ve been putting up with the runs!”

“I think Lilly Tahoma knows. She said she was glad to get me fresh, with no bad habits to unlearn. But don’t expect me to run around the countryside looking for a horse to ride.”

“Courtney, when you ride Blue, is it okay?”

“Oh, I love Blue,” she admitted. “She’d never throw me or stomp me. Not on purpose, anyway. But it took me a while to feel all right with her.”

“I totally understand,” he said. But then he laughed again.

“Okay, I don’t think you’re that understanding if you’re still laughing…”

“Court, don’t you think I had plenty of fears when I was your age?”

“Like?”

“Geese,” he said. “We have a lake on the farm that used to fill up with Canadian geese every spring and fall—on their way south, on their way north. I used to ride my bike to the bus stop and I couldn’t get past that lake without those sons a bitches chasing me and pecking me to death! My brothers could turn on ’em and chase them back to the lake, but they knew I was scared to death of them and they would not let up!”

“Seriously?” she asked with a laugh. “Geese?”

He frowned at her. “Hey, geese are mean and they’re as big as dogs! And they honk!”

She giggled. “Does anyone know about this?”

He peered at her, sensing he’d just told her something that leveled the playing field between them. “Everyone knows. And in case you’re interested, I’m not afraid of them anymore.”

She laughed at him. “Good for you. My horse phobia is still between us. And I’m not so sure I want to go riding.”

“Up to you,” he said. “Totally up to you. But I’m going to drive over to Jim’s to say hello to the family. Come with me. If something happens to change your mind, we’ll ride.”

“Like what could happen?”

“Well, he could say something like, ‘This is old Gert and she can barely walk, but she can still take a light rider. She just goes real, real slow.’”

She liked that; he could tell by her laugh. When she was little, when her mom was alive, she’d thought he was hysterical. He could always make her laugh. He’d fallen as much in love with Courtney as Lana. One night when he’d held Lana, she’d said to him, “If anything should ever happen to me, please watch over Courtney. Stu is a fool who married a mean stupid fool and I want to know my little girl is okay.” He had said, “You don’t even have to ask!”

“Listen, Court,” Lief said. “You could get bored, I realize that. But I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Oh, boy,” she said, sliding down in her seat.

“It’s about my mom,” he said. “She’s getting really old. She won’t slow down, that’s for sure, but she’s eighty. She’s not going to last forever. I call her, you know. A couple of times a week at least. And you know that call she makes Sunday mornings before she heads to church? She’s so old-fashioned. She allows herself only that one long-distance call a week even though we’ve all told her she doesn’t have to worry about the charges anymore. But on that Sunday call she wants to know two things. How I am, how you are.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Really?” she finally asked.

He nodded. “She’s been so worried about you since your mom died. If you could be nice to her, I’d appreciate it. Every time I see her I think it might be the last time. You don’t have to pretend, but if you could just treat her extra nice, maybe call her Gram like you used to, I think it could make her feel good. I’d take it as a personal favor.”

Again, the quiet. And then she said, “I could do that. But there’s a condition…”

“Ferrari? Porsche?”

She giggled. “I want to see the lake where the geese are. But we’re staying in the truck.”

“Done,” he said. “Thanks, Court.”



Lief’s mother had been expecting them; she was ready for them. “I’m so happy, so happy,” she said, embracing first Courtney and then Lief. “I think people will come by later, just to say hello, then come back tomorrow for turkey.”

“Fantastic,” Lief said. Then his dad came tottering into the kitchen, his newspaper in one hand. If his dad was in the house, the newspaper was attached to his hand. “Dad,” Lief said, pulling him in for a hug. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Good. Pretty good,” he said. Then he peered at Courtney. “Well, young lady,” he said.

“Well yourself,” she answered. But she granted him a smile.

“He has the arthritis,” Lief’s mom said. “Both knees, both hips.”

“Ain’t much,” Gramp said. “Picked too dang many potatoes, I guess. That’s what I get for my trouble—arthritis.”

“Are you hungry? We could make up some sandwiches.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Ate in the car. Snacked all the way, in fact. Court?”

“Nah. Thanks anyway.”

“Well, then, pour yourself some coffee. Courtney, there’s sodas. I best get back to this baking, get it all done so I can concentrate on the bird tomorrow.”

“Aren’t the girls bringing things?” Lief asked, referring to his sister and sisters-in-law.

“Sure, sure, they bring. They want to bring it all, but what sense does that make? What am I going to do with myself if they bring it all? I do the bird, the bread, and decided I wanted some cookies on hand for the little ones. Son, go get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m going to bring our bags in first,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

There was a big butcher block work island in the kitchen that was probably as old as she was, and she stood there, her hands in a bowl full of dough. Courtney stood opposite her. “What kind of bread?” she asked.

“Just my basic sweet dough. Nothing so fancy. I’ll make some rolls, couple of loaves, maybe put some aside for cinnamon rolls for breakfast…”

“Did you ever make a twisted French loaf?” Courtney asked.

Gram looked up. “Don’t know that I have, Courtney.”

“Want me to show you how?”

Surprised quiet hung in the air. Finally Gram said, “That would be so nice.”

“Well, I can’t remember how long to bake it,” Courtney said, dipping into the flour canister to sprinkle some flour on her work space. “And I’ll need a beaten egg for the glaze.”

Gram pushed the dough toward Courtney and went to the refrigerator. “We can figure out the baking time,” she said, getting out an egg. She cracked it in a bowl and beat it with a fork.

“And do you have a brush? It’s best to brush it on.”

“Course,” she said. “Let me watch how you do that.”

So Courtney kneaded and rolled out her three strips, like three fat snakes, then carefully braided them while Gram watched. She sealed the ends and had a perfect braided loaf.

“I declare, you’re gonna make yourself into a baker!” she said. Then she pushed the beaten egg and a brush toward her.

“We have to put on a cookie sheet first, and that’s the hard part. Sometimes it wants to fall apart.”

“Greased sheet?” Gram asked.

And Courtney remembered how Kelly had done it. “Yes,” she said. And a moment later she slipped her small hands under the loaf and transferred it. Then she brushed the top with the egg glaze. “There we go.”

“As I live,” Gram said. “Aren’t you the clever one. That’s so pretty. Should we make us one more?”

“Sure,” Courtney said.

“Then we best get on the cookies.”

“I don’t actually know how to make cookies. Just the kind you buy in the tube, already made, and put on the cookie sheet or in the microwave.”

“Pah, we want the real thing,” Gram said. “Let me get my file out. If you can read, you can cook. I didn’t know you had an interest in baking.”

Courtney shrugged. “I really don’t. I just picked up a few things, that’s all. Besides, there’s nothing on TV anyway.”

“That’s a fact,” she said. “Nothing on that box worth watching day or night. Not unless you like those asinine real-life things.”

“You mean reality shows?” Courtney asked.

“Asinine, if you ask me. People shouldn’t be watching other people while they’re just living their lives or trying to solve their problems. And the very idea you choose a husband or a wife on the television! The very idea! What happened to acting? If there isn’t acting in it, I can’t be bothered.”

Courtney laughed at her.

“Now, let me see—I think peanut butter and chocolate chip,” Gram said. “Does that work for you?”

“Works for me. But there’s rolls to do.”

“We’ll do ’em first. Let’s make another one of them French things.”

“You got it, Gram,” Courtney said. “I shouldn’t have gotten myself into this. We’re going to be busy all day.”

“Well, kiddo, that’s the way I like it. Busy all day. Now you tell me when you get hungry and we’ll take a break and eat something.”

“I’m kind of looking forward to the cookie dough,” she said. “Besides, don’t you and Gramp eat at about four o’clock?”

“Not quite that early,” she said. “That’s for the old folks. I’d say more like four-thirty.”

Courtney laughed. “You can make it all the way to four-thirty?”

“You wait till you’re eighty, young lady. You won’t be able to keep awake for those late meals like you used to.”

“I guess that is just around the corner,” Courtney teased.

And so they baked all afternoon. Then at exactly four-thirty they had a macaroni-and-cheese casserole with ham along with some sliced tomatoes and asparagus. Then after dishes, Aunt Carol, Lief’s sister, dropped by without her husband, just to say hello, and right behind her came Uncle Rob and Aunt Joyce. They didn’t stay long, just long enough for some pound cake and coffee. And sure enough, by eight o’clock, Gramp was nodding off in his chair with his newspaper in his lap and Gram was still banging around in the kitchen. Courtney and Lief were watching TV. Sort of.

“I think I might be able to stuff down another piece of that pound cake,” Lief said, heading for the kitchen.

Courtney thought maybe she’d eaten more today than she’d eaten in a month, but she stood up and followed him anyway. Before she got to the kitchen she heard him say, “Mom, Mom, what’s the matter?”

Courtney just waited outside the door. “Old women,” Gram said with a self-recriminating sniff. “Sentimental old fools…”

“What happened?” he asked. “Did you get your feelings hurt or something?”

“Hurt? Mercy, no! I got ’em restored! I was so afraid I was gonna die before I saw that sweet child come back to her joyous self. Lord be praised!”

“What’s this talk about dying? Aren’t you feeling well?” he asked gently.

She laughed through her tears. “Lief Holbrook, I’m feeling eighty! I could be gone by morning.”

Courtney could hear him hugging her. “I think you’ll make it till morning.”

“You better hope so. I’m in charge of the bird!”



Thanksgiving day in Silver Springs, Idaho, was a full house, though not all the Holbrooks could be there. Some nieces and nephews of Lief’s who were grown, married and living in other states didn’t come, but there was still a full table. These old-fashioned country folks liked to set two tables, one for the grown-ups and one for the children. A major rite of passage was moving from the little people table to the big people table; this year Courtney sat with the adults.

People seemed happy to see her; that was a relief. She saw the lake and there were even some geese on it, a stopover on their way south. Cousin Jim’s farm hadn’t changed but he did have some new animals—a couple of geldings he’d taken off a neighbor’s hands when the neighbor’s farm sold. Not ones she felt ready to ride. Lief went hunting early on Friday morning and again early on Saturday morning, both times with his brothers and brother-in-law. They stayed mostly on the farm—plenty of ponds and lakes nearby. He got himself two ducks, both of which he cleaned and put on ice to take back to Virgin River with him.

She texted Amber all weekend. Sounded like Amber’s holiday was just about the same—older brothers, younger nieces and nephews, lots of people at the farm.

On Sunday they headed home. Gram made them coffee, turkey sandwiches, cookies. They didn’t leave at the crack of dawn, but rather after a good breakfast. And the first couple of hours of the drive was pretty quiet in the car.

“I was real impressed with your behavior, Courtney. Thanks.”

She sighed. “I don’t know why we can’t just live there. It’s not like she’s getting any younger, you know?”

“I know,” he said. “I’m going to have to make it a point to go more often.”

“Why can’t we just live there? Near family?”

“Well, I thought about it, but in the end I decided I didn’t want to get too far out of California, since I still will probably have to go to L.A. now and then. I still have occasional meetings for scripts. I found a house I thought we’d like and just made a decision.”

“There are airports. What if we made a new decision?”

“Moved to Silver Springs?” he asked. “I like where we are. And you’ve gotten along pretty well.”

“Is it about Kelly being there?” she asked.

“I like Kelly, you know that. And to be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever meet a woman I’d like. But also, I don’t know what her future plans are. When she got here, she planned to stay awhile, then find a position in a restaurant. That she didn’t want to live with her sister forever, was practically the first thing she said, so I can’t say I’m staying in Virgin River because of Kelly. Look, I don’t think we should move to Idaho, but I think we should go back to visit more often. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “Whatever.”