Harvest Moon

Seven




Jillian and her assistant Denny were tilling a half-acre plot on the west side of the Victorian, getting it ready to mulch to prepare for a spring planting. Jillian was handling the gas-powered tiller while begloved Denny was behind her, removing large rocks from her wake. Even in the chilly October morning, they were both sweating.

When she got to the end of a row and turned, she noticed Colin was standing at the garden edge. He’d taken quite a hike from the house to get here, so thinking it must be important, she went to him.

“I thought you were painting,” she said.

“I am. I was. Listen, something strange is going on in the house. Kelly’s loft is above the sunroom and there are sounds. At first I thought she was singing in the shower or something. But then I thought maybe she was crying.”

Jill lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure Lief isn’t in the house? Maybe they’re doing something that sounds like singing or crying…”

Colin was shaking his head. “Nope. I even looked around outside for a car or truck. Should I just stay busy for a while and ignore it?”

“She said she had something to do this morning, but she didn’t say what… I just assumed she’d be busy in the kitchen.”

“Whatever it was, I think it made her cry. A lot.”

“Well, maybe I better check on her, make sure nothing is seriously wrong. Maybe they had an argument or something.”

“I was hoping you’d do that.”

“Why? Are you worried?”

“Not so much that, but I was hoping you’d drive me back to the house in the garden mobile. I’ll stay on the porch until you investigate.”

Jillian was actually surprised that, by the time she was climbing to the third floor, there were still sounds of sniffles and whimpers. It made her a little scared; Kelly was not known for crying. Halfway up the staircase she stopped and knocked on the wall. “Kell?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Kelly responded, then she blew her nose.

“Can I come up?”

“Uh-huh,” she said with a loud sniff.

She found Kelly sitting on her sofa, box of tissues by her side, a bunch of wadded-up tissues on her little side table.

“Honey!” Jill said. “What in the world is the matter?”

“The movie,” she said, pointing a tissue-filled hand toward the TV screen. “The one Lief wrote and won an Oscar for! Oh, my God, it’s so sad!”

Jillian kind of slumped onto the couch beside her. “Lief won an Oscar?”

“Uh-huh. I just found out yesterday. I didn’t even have time to tell you about it—the kitchen was full of people last night, including Lief.” She gave her nose another blow. “It was really something. We took all my stuff to the bar to give to Preacher and who do you suppose we ran into but an old friend of Lief’s—Muriel St. Claire, the actress. She was in the movie and she lives here now! And she said she’s invited their other old friend to visit—Sam Shepard. Lief is famous.”

Jillian shrugged. “I’ve never heard of him…”

“Well, you’ve heard of Muriel and Sam, I trust!”

“Oh, yeah. But I barely know who famous actors are, much less writers. In fact, I can barely name two directors.”

“Me, either. Oh, Jill, this movie is just amazing! He’s brilliant.”

“And did they talk about movies and famous people the whole time?”

“Just a little. Mostly they talked about dogs, duck hunting, fly-fishing and what’s so perfect about Virgin River—basically that it’s woodsy and rugged. Would you have taken Muriel St. Claire for a hunter?” She shook her head. “Shew.”

“What’s the movie about?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. A sixteen-year-old boy runs away, gets caught up in the middle of an FBI and ATF raid, gets rescued by his family… It’s kind of like Old Yeller meets Witness.”

“There’s a dog and the Amish in it?”

“A horse. And no Amish either, but a bunch of good-hearted, hardworking country farmers with a lot of courage and faith and family commitment. You and Colin can watch it if you want—I begged a copy from Lief so I could see what he was talking about.”

“And do you see?”

A big tear rolled down her cheek. “I see we have absolutely nothing in common! He’s a brilliant writer who knows a bunch of brilliant movie stars and I barely read! I haven’t been to a movie in so long, I can’t remember the last one.”

“Didn’t seem like that was required,” Jill said.

“I could see why Luca was attracted to me and vice versa—it’s all that kitchen and food stuff. I can’t imagine what Lief would see in me—I don’t know anything about what he does.”

Jill smiled. “But you’ve figured out he does it very well.”

“So?”

“What do Colin and I have in common? I grow vegetables and he paints. But I love watching him paint. I’m so impressed by his art. And I catch him looking out the sunroom window all the time, or sitting on the back porch waiting for me to come in. I think you should tell Lief the truth—that you’re amazed and impressed and even a little intimidated.”

“He did say he likes to cook but wouldn’t be brave enough to cook for me…”

“There you go!”

Kelly gave her nose a final blow. “I have to go see Lief. Then I’m going to the farmers’ market. I’ll be home in time to throw something in front of you for dinner.”



Lief wasn’t expecting anyone, and certainly not Kelly. It had been exactly one day since he’d shown her where he lived. A phone call, maybe. But when he opened the front door, there she stood on his porch.

“You didn’t tell me it was so sad!” she said. She looked him up and down. He was barefoot and bare-chested, his hair damp, a towel looped around his neck. And oh! What a hunk! She should have expected that mat of blond hair, the broad shoulders. But those muscles? Much more defined than she’d expected. “Uh-oh. Did I get you out of the shower?”

He pulled the door wider. “I was out. What are you doing here?”

“I watched your movie this morning. It was so sad, I had to talk to you! Every thing or person I really got attached to dies in that movie! And that was based on your own childhood…?”

“Well, very loosely,” he said.

“You killed off your father!?” she said with a sniff.

“Not actually my father, but the father in the script. Sam Shepard. Come in, Kelly.”

“I’m on my way to the farmers’ market, but I have to know about this.” She allowed herself to be pulled inside. What she wanted was for him to take off his pants so she could fill her eyes with the rest of him. But what she said was, “Do you want to find a shirt?” And then she fanned her face with her hand.

He grinned at her. “Sure,” he said. “Give me a second.”

She didn’t move from just inside the door. When he came back, she said, “What did your family think of that movie?”

“Well, my mother called it pap, except the part where the mother is played by Muriel St. Claire and the father by Sam Shepard. But she didn’t like being widowed so young. My dad, on the other hand, thought it was awesome. He said he hopes he goes out in a hail of bullets like Sam did rather than eighty-five years old and facedown in a potato patch.” Then he smiled.

“That movie almost killed me,” she said. “I sobbed for an hour!”

“You liked it,” he accused.

“I don’t know. It’s going to be a long damn time before I watch another one of your movies! I’m going to need a better briefing before I do.” She sighed. “I think I might have PTSD.”

He chuckled. “It was hard to write, too.”

“Did you cry while you wrote it?”

“I got a little choked up, but when I started feeling it, I thought I’d hit a home run. That’s what I was looking for. Will you please come inside?”

She just stood there. “Was it that hard to be you, when you were sixteen?”

“I think it’s hard for everyone to be sixteen.” He pulled her into his arms. “You know what? When I feel you against me, I get a little drunk.” His hands were running up and down her back, his chin balanced on top of her head. He inhaled the pure scent of her hair. “You feel so damn good. You smell like heaven.”

“We have nothing in common. Nothing.”

“I think we have a lot in common. I like to hold you like this, you like being held like this. You like to cook, I like to eat. The movie business, who cares? You don’t have to watch ’em. You and my mother can sit on the porch and snap beans or something while I watch with my dad, who hopes to go down in a hail of bullets.”

“I don’t think I’m going to get over it very soon. I’m emotionally damaged.”

“We’ll make out awhile and you’ll feel better.”

“You know, Lief—I think we’re making a big mistake here. We shouldn’t get involved—this isn’t going anywhere. I have to get a job, and there’s no job here. You have to get your family life in order and write more devastating, Oscar-winning scripts that blow my mind. I don’t know anything about teenagers and you have one and you’re keeping me a secret from her.” She shook her head. “This is all a big mistake.”

“What if it’s not?” he asked. “What if it’s perfect?”

“Are you looking for a mother for your daughter? Because I can assure you, I’m not it. And I don’t even know her!”

“Until I met you, I wasn’t looking for anything at all. Since meeting you, I’m kind of looking for a girlfriend.” He smiled at her. “That’s all. Poor Court—I’m the only mother she’s going to get, I think. But, I’m going to bring Courtney and Amber to your Halloween party. That should bring you out of the closet.”

“It’s not a party, it’s a kind of a picnic. A pumpkin pick.”

“Everyone’s excited about it. I think the town sees it as a party. And I’m bringing the girls.”

“What do you think the odds are Courtney will find me even tolerable?” she asked him.

“Odds are fantastic,” he said. “She wants a puppy from Amber’s dog’s litter. She picked him out and named him. She’s going to like everything about me for at least a few weeks. I’m going to take full advantage of it! Now, come on,” he said, leading her farther into the house until they got to the great room. He sat on the couch and pulled her down on his lap. “Let’s make out until you have to go to the farmers’ market.”

She let her fingertips run through the reddish-gold hair at his temples, very sorry she’d suggested the shirt. “I shouldn’t stay another minute. I think you’re taking advantage of my vulnerability.”

“I hope to eventually take advantage of everything you have,” he said. He pulled her down until they were reclining on the couch. Then he started kissing her, which he had lately become even better at. Then he began to sneak his hand under her shirt. “I have an idea,” he said between kissing. “Let’s let these out for a little while.”

“Are we making love now?”

“Not yet,” he said. And his hand found the front clasp to her bra, popping it open. First his hands and then his mouth found her naked breasts, and she not only moaned in pleasure but arched toward him. “See? Yet another thing we have in common—I love your breasts and you love that I love them.”

“I thought we should talk about your movie and the implications…” she said, but she said it with her eyes closed.

“We can talk about that later. Right now I want to talk about your perfect nipples and how right they feel in my mouth…”



There was one fatal flaw in Kelly’s notion to inform Lief there was no reason for them to get any closer than they were, and that was that when he kissed her and touched her, everything inside her went soft and sloppy and she wanted to take her clothes off. She hadn’t gotten completely naked so far, but if he kept doing that kissing-touching thing, with the tongue and lips, it was just around the corner. After all, she hadn’t been properly loved yet. And he kept promising she wasn’t going to find it a waste of time. She ached for more of him.

Kelly felt a little flush, and her lips were tingling as she drove to the farmers’ market in Eureka. In fact, other parts of her body were still tingly, too. He certainly was getting good at that make-out thing. And while she was supposed to be thinking about what she was going to pick up at the market, instead she was thinking about how close to him it made her feel to have cried over his movie and then have recovered from it in his arms.

She was still surprised she’d had the willpower to leave his house, and he’d had the willpower to let her go.

But she needed stock. Or she couldn’t cook.

It being past mid-October, the farmers’ market wasn’t as crowded as she supposed it was in August when all the produce was in, but she was surprised by what she did find. She grabbed a wagon and started shopping. Given the moderate weather, there were late peaches, pears, plums and lots of lemons and limes. She was pretty stocked up with large boxes of the fall fruits, something that would keep her very busy with jelly and preserves, when she was sidetracked by a woman offering samples.

Kelly stopped at the booth. “Hi,” the woman said. She lifted a plate. It was covered with crackers topped with cream cheese and a green jelly. “My pepper jelly. Help yourself.”

Kelly took a small bite, her tasting technique. It immediately sparked on her taste buds. “Mmm! Wonderful!” she said before taking a second bite.

The woman smiled. She was about Kelly’s height, blonde and maybe early fifties. She had a lovely, welcoming smile and warm brown eyes. “Thanks. I’m proud of it.”

“It’s really fantastic.” Kelly lifted one of the jars. It had a nice little label, probably put together by the local print shop. Laura’s Pepper Jelly. She helped herself to another cracker. “How long have you been doing this?” Kelly asked.

“A couple of years. I just come out twice a week. And I put some jelly at the co-op.”

“Ah. Health-food co-op?”

“Right.”

“What’s in this?” Kelly asked.

“Green peppers, jalapeños, sugar, honey, apple cider vinegar—pretty simple, really. After I made my first batch, people started trying to buy it from me, so my husband made me some labels and told me I should sell it. Why not, huh?”

“Is it pretty complicated, selling processed food at the farmers’ market?”

“Well, there are permits required—Health Department inspection, that sort of thing. Everyone seems to be trying to get that done before the market opens in the spring, so there’s always a wait. This time of year it should be easy. Then the next problem is getting space.”

Kelly put out her hand. “I’m Kelly.”

“Laura,” she said, then laughed. She held up the jar. “Obviously I’m Laura. Laura Osika.”

“I was hoping to get some late organic tomatoes,” Kelly said.

“Well, the co-op will have lots of organic vegetables, some local and some shipped in. But there’s this stand out on Rt. 199 that’s open till about five o’clock. It’s run by a commercial farmer who’s growing year round—all organic. Some of the best stuff I’ve tasted. And I’m a vegetarian. And I’m a damn good cook.”

Kelly grinned at her. “Are you, now?” Then she dug around in her big shoulder bag and produced a business card. “I’m a chef and I like your jelly. Give me five. No, give me ten. And then give me a call sometime—I’d love to talk more about selling here or at the co-op. Seems like I have nothing to do but cook.”

“Are you kidding? You’re a chef? And you want ten of my jelly?”

Kelly chuckled. “I was formerly sous chef at a five-star restaurant in San Francisco called La Touche—look for it on Google it sometime. It’s famous. I quit—the stress was too much. I’m going to have to find a new job, but for now I’m visiting my sister in Virgin River and canning everything I can pick, buy or steal.” Kelly shrugged. “It’s what I do to relax.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Oops,” Kelly said, grabbing that business card back. “I forgot—I have a new cell phone.” She dug around for a pen and scribbled a new number on the back of the card, handing it to her. “Cell reception in the mountains is spotty, but you can leave a message and I’ll get back.”

Laura was in enough shock that she hadn’t bagged those ten jars of jelly. “Have you studied all over the place?”

“Culinary institutes in Paris, Italy, Spain, U.S.A. And worked with some amazing chefs. But it takes nerves of steel—very competitive and demanding. I’d give anything to have a small restaurant that I could run my way.”

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

Kelly laughed. “Well, only because I’m not rich.”

“Damn, Kelly, you shouldn’t let a little thing like that stop you!”

“Why aren’t you mass-producing Laura’s Pepper Jelly?” Kelly asked with a lift of her brow.

Laura leaned close. “Are you kidding? I don’t want to! This is a little gold mine! Best kept secret in the west—the flea markets, farmers markets and co-ops. I work three days a week for enough stock to sell for two days and I almost always sell out and my profit is a hundred percent.”

Kelly looked at the jar—priced at $2.50. “It cost you $1.25 to produce this?”

Laura nodded and said, “That includes the cost of the jar, transportation, permits, memberships, licenses and booth.”

Kelly nodded. “Bring it up to $2.99.” Then she winked. “Better still, $3.99. You’re giving it away!”

“That’s what my husband says. I’ll give you a call this week,” Laura said, bagging up ten jars and taking twenty-five in cash from Kelly. “I think we have information to trade.”

“You bet! Now I’m off to check out the co-op and that vegetable stand.” She put out her hand. “Nice meeting you!”



Lief drove Courtney to the Jensen Veterinary Clinic and Stable even though she said she wasn’t all that interested. “That’s fine,” he said as they drove. “I’d just like you to look around, meet a couple of the instructors and horses, see if it sparks any interest for you.”

“But why?” she moaned.

“Lots of reasons, Court. Your friend Amber has animals and you seem to like being around her house—if you’re going to do any riding with her, I’d prefer it if you had some lessons first. And—I talked to one of the instructors. She said nothing helps build confidence in a teenage girl like riding, like being able to control a large animal. She, Lilly Tahoma, said that’s why she’s teaching—when she was a young girl, it was probably the most important thing she did to help her learn responsibility, trust and commitment.”

“You think riding horses is going to get me to do my homework on time?”

“No,” Lief said. “I think being allowed to hang out at Amber’s is going to get your homework done.”

She sighed heavily. “Amber’s is okay, but I don’t think we’re going riding. One of their horses is old and the other one is sometimes a problem. I like the dogs, though. And we’re agreed, I’m getting that dog. Right?”

“I’m just about there,” Lief said. “You do understand that having a dog around our house is going to be a lot different than having dogs at the Hawkins farm.”

“Different how?” she asked.

“Well, on the farm, you tend to let ’em run loose and the big dogs train and look after the pups. They stay with the pack most of the time. There can’t be any running loose outside our house—he’d get lost in a second. A lost pup ends up being dinner for some bobcat or eagle. He’ll have to be watched and trained.”

“Trained to do what?” Courtney asked.

Ah, Lief thought. She’s never had a pet. How had he and Lana completely overlooked the importance of that? Because they were always working and traveling; pets hadn’t fit into their lifestyle. “To pee on the grass,” Lief said. “And to not eat the house. Puppies chew everything.”

“Do you know how to train a dog to do those things?”

“It’s been a while, but I think we’ll manage. You don’t realize it yet, how busy that puppy is going to keep you.”

“Then I don’t think there will be a lot of time left over for things like riding…”

“You don’t have to make a decision about riding,” he reminded her. “Just have a look around, talk to the trainers.”

“Since we’re in the truck headed there, I don’t see much choice,” she said.

“Good. You’re catching on.”

“Waste of time,” she muttered.

How, Lief asked himself, do I stay sane? “Keep an open mind…”

When they arrived at the stable, Lief was glad to see Annie Jensen, the vet’s wife, had a couple of teenage girls on horses in the round pen. She was standing in the center of the pen shouting and pointing while the girls practiced their dressage training. There were some cones in the pen, and the girls maneuvered their mounts around them. Their backs were straight, chins up, hands gently lifting the reins. Lief was relieved to see the girls were wearing jeans and not anything as fancy as jodhpurs. There was a truck and trailer parked outside the pen, the back open and ramp down. The girls looked too young to have driven the truck, but maybe a parent brought them and their horses and was in the barn or vet’s office. “Hang out here for a while, Courtney. I’m going to see if I can find Clay or Lilly.”

“Sure,” she said, leaning on the fence.

And as he walked away he was thinking, Oh, man, I hope this wasn’t a huge mistake.



While Courtney watched the two girls riding in the pen she had to admit to herself it looked kind of fun, but these were older girls. Fifteen or sixteen. And she was not only just fourteen, but maybe the smallest fourteen-year-old girl in her class. There was no way she was ever getting up on one of those huge animals. She thought she might fit under its chin.

“Hi. Are you Courtney?”

Courtney turned to the voice. Coming toward her was a very small woman, maybe only a few inches taller than Courtney. She was a woman, though. Her body was full and curved while Courtney’s was still straight and flat. And she was beautiful—dark hair, tan Native American skin and the most unusual bright blue eyes. She pulled off a heavy glove and stretched out her hand. “I’m Lilly Tahoma. Your dad said he was going to bring you by today.”

“Where is he?” Courtney said, looking around.

“He must be in the office. Come with me a minute—I want to show you something.” And with that, Lilly turned and walked away, expecting Courtney to follow.

She was a little reluctant. But surely these people knew what they were doing and wouldn’t let her be stomped to death by one of those huge beasts.

Lilly was way ahead of her, opening the door to a pen. She pulled on a dark horse’s halter, leading her out of the stall. Courtney kept a safe distance.

“I’d like you to meet Blue, Courtney. Her full name is Blue Rhapsody, but I call her Blue.” Lilly was stroking her nose and cheek, kissing her long muzzle. “I found her, if you can believe that. I was driving and saw her rolling around on the ground, sick. I called Doc Jensen and Clay and they took care of her, but she’d been abandoned. I was able to adopt her.”

Courtney stood back about six feet in case the horse reared and began to stomp her.

“You can come a little closer. Blue might be the gentlest, most trustworthy horse in the stable. She’s the one we always choose for a new rider.”

Courtney took a few more steps. She looked over her shoulder to see Lief in the barn door, leaning against the frame, watching, his arms crossed over his chest. She hadn’t once mentioned to him that the very idea of getting up on one of those big animals terrified her.

“She’s completely docile, Courtney. Especially in the barn, with me—it’s a controlled environment. Nothing here to spook her.”

“How old were you when you learned to ride?” Courtney asked.

“I’m not even real sure. Very, very small. I grew up on the Hopi reservation and my grandfather put me on a neighbor’s horse. We didn’t have horses, but the neighbors did and they taught me to ride. Then we moved and I wasn’t on a horse for years—till I was in my twenties.”

“Well,” Courtney said, keeping her voice down, “I’ve been around a horse or two, but I’ve never been on one.”

“Are you a little uncomfortable around them?” Lilly asked.

“I would say, a lot.”

“I see that as a real plus,” Lilly said. “Tell you why—you’re likely to pay close attention to safety, more so than some of these hotshots I teach who think they’re unbreakable. And you won’t have any bad habits to unlearn. You’ll get it right from the start. But the most important thing—when you develop your equestrian skills, you’re going to feel like a goddess!” Then she laughed. “Come a little closer. Here. Touch her neck, right here. And her jaw—here. Give her a stroke. Ah…. Blue, you are the queen of the stable, aren’t you?”

Courtney reached out a tentative hand. When she stroked the horse’s neck, Blue nickered softly, moving her head toward her a bit. Courtney pulled back her hand, and Lilly chuckled. “Did that surprise you, Courtney? She likes you, that’s all. That was a sweet, affectionate sound, like a kitten’s purr. Here,” she said, pulling a few carrots out of her back pocket. “Would you like to give her a carrot?”

“No. You go ahead.”

“All right, watch this. I’m going to hold it way back here and stick the skinny end in and let go the second she takes it. If I were giving her a sugar lump or something small, I’d lay it in my hand and hold it out flat—we don’t want to be involved with those big teeth!” The horse took the carrot and worked it around in her mouth. “Go ahead, Courtney. It’ll help you bond with her a little.”

“Listen…” Courtney began.

“It’s okay, Courtney. You can trust me. I’d never let anything happen to you with my horse.”

When Blue was done with the first carrot, Courtney fed her the second. And of course Blue took it happily and chewed it right up. But Courtney wasn’t that impressed. She was still afraid of this huge horse.

But she was beautiful. She gave Lilly a nudge with her muzzle and Lilly said, “Aw, you’re welcome.” Then she gave Courtney a nudge, and it almost knocked her back a foot, more out of surprise than anything. Lilly laughed. “That was a thank-you, by the way.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“My suggestion is that you spend a couple of hours with me in the stable. You can help me brush her, feed her, maybe turn her out. Talk to her, get to know her before we put a saddle on her for you. The next step would be you in the saddle and I’ll have her on a lead. You’ll be amazed how fast you get comfortable. Once you like it in the saddle, we’ll advance slowly, always at your pace.”

“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Courtney said.

“Well, maybe it won’t work out for you. But if it does, it can make a girl feel so powerful to be able to handle a thousand-pound animal with the slightest press of a thigh or flick of a wrist. Plus, we love getting a group of girls together out on a trail ride. Our older kids sometimes have group trail rides—boys and girls. It’s a fun, healthy sport that promotes the kind treatment of animals and fair competition. It’s all good,” Lilly said. Then she smiled.

“I just don’t…”

Courtney’s voice trailed off at the sound of horse hooves pounding toward the barn. The back doors were open to the trail that led between fenced pastures and seemed to stretch all the way into the hills, and down that trail blazed a beautiful chestnut-colored horse with a blond mane and tail. And upon this horse, a beautiful boy. Man, for sure. He was lowered in the saddle while the horse charged at what appeared lightning speed.

Then the man rose upright and pulled back on the reins to slow the horse. The horse pranced a bit, turning sideways, then fell into a nice trot right into the stable doors. And the strong athletic young man leaped off, hanging on to the reins. He was also Native American, his cheekbones high, his skin beautifully tan, a long black braid down his back and his teeth so shockingly white that when he smiled Courtney almost wet her pants.

She knew her eyes were wide and hoped she wasn’t drooling.

“My stepson, Gabe,” Lilly said. “Gabe, meet Courtney. She’s considering trying out riding—a brand-new adventure for her.”

“Cool,” he said. Then he looked at Lilly. “I’d get this horse a jockey and trainer, no kidding. He’s unbelievable.” Then he turned and led the horse away.

Courtney whirled away from Lilly and Blue and walked over to where Lief waited by the front barn doors. “I’m going to need boots,” she said.