Harvest Moon

The class fell apart with laughter. They were hysterical; Mr. Culmer was getting redder by the minute. When the class finally quieted and Courtney was again in her seat, the teacher said, “And this coming from a fourteen-year-old with pink-and-purple hair. Thank you very much.”

“My pleasure,” she said, grinning largely.

Courtney had been on plenty of farms; Lief’s parents lived on a farm, the farm he grew up on, even if it wasn’t a working farm anymore. He also had uncles and cousins with farms—in Idaho it was mostly potatoes. She hadn’t thought too much about missing visits to those farms until she was bouncing along on a yellow bus with Amber to go home with her to do homework. She was excited. She didn’t let it show, of course.

She thought it was kind of funny that when they used to visit the Holbrook farms in Idaho, Courtney had never worried about whether she could fit in, but in Virgin River she stood out like a sore thumb. When her mom was alive, she didn’t have pink-and-purple hair, black fingernails and odd, black retro clothing, either.

Courtney and Amber had planned to do homework together when they got to Amber’s house, then Courtney would stay for dinner and they might either do some more homework or play video games or whatever until Lief came to pick up Courtney and take her home. Amber’s dad had offered to drive her home, but Lief had insisted. He wanted to meet Amber’s parents, probably to make sure they weren’t satanists or serial killers.

So—Amber’s parents were much older than Courtney had expected. They were grandparents. She should have anticipated this since Amber’s older, married brothers were all college graduates who worked in the “family business.” And for older people, they were very weird—they didn’t even flinch when they took in her appearance.

First was Amber’s mother, who greeted them in a warm, good-smelling kitchen. She was wearing loose jeans tucked into her rubber boots, and her gray hair was kind of all over the place. “How do you do?” Amber’s mother said. “I’m Sinette Hawkins. It’s so nice of you to help Amber with math. I guess Hawk and me, we’re just too far past all that new math. And her brothers are busy helping their own kids.”

“I don’t mind,” Courtney said.

“Now are you sure your father doesn’t want to join us for dinner?” Sinette asked. “Because there’s always more than we can eat. I do that on purpose—someone is bound to stop by and Hawk likes a hot lunch in the middle of the day, so I keep plenty of leftovers.”

Ah, that would explain Amber leaning toward the chubby side, Courtney thought. “No. He said he has something to do.”

And right then a kid in a wheelchair zoomed into the kitchen. Amber introduced him as her nephew, Rory. He was only eight, wore thick glasses, and maneuvered that chair around like it was a Corvette. “I’m ready for my spelling words,” Rory announced. “Amber, you wanna do my spelling words? “

“I can’t, Rory. I have to do my homework with Courtney. She came all the way out here to help me with my math.”

“How long does it take to do spelling words?” Courtney asked.

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Amber answered with a shrug. “He’ll get ‘em all right.”

“Then let’s do ‘em,” Courtney said, barely recognizing herself. But he’s in a wheelchair, she thought. And even that doesn’t give you slack from homework?

During homework, Courtney found out that Rory had muscular dystrophy. When she asked if he’d get out of that wheelchair pretty soon, Amber said, “There’s no cure. Yet.” Courtney was afraid to ask any more questions. After homework, they went out to the barn where they kept one cow and two horses. There were also chickens and a couple of goats and a few dogs, one of whom seemed to move a little slow. “She’s pretty much ready to whelp,” Amber said. “The family’s got a bet going—want to get in on it? Her last litter she dropped seven pups.”

Courtney bet nine.

Hawk, Amber’s dad, was a skinny old farmer. They caught up with him while he was hosing off his tractor out by the family’s big vegetable garden. It was hard to tell if his name was the shortened version of his last name or due to his hawkish nose. He was a little hunched but strong, like maybe he’d been working real hard for a lot of years. Yet when he met Courtney, he turned out to be a little silly.

“I been looking forward to this,” he said, putting out his calloused hand to her. “Been dyin’ to see the hairdo!”

“Dad!” Amber scolded, clearly mortified.

“What? I been dyin’ to. Must take commitment, eh?”

Courtney laughed. “Sort of.”

“Courtney,” Amber said pleadingly. “He swore he wouldn’t make fun.”

“I didn’t make fun,” her father protested. “I can’t help wondering what it feels like. Can I touch it? “

“It’s just hair,” Courtney said, leaning her head toward him.

“So it is. I just have to ask—what did your dad have to say when he first laid eyes on it?”

“It totally freaked him out,” she said almost proudly.

And Hawk smiled knowingly. “Knew there had to be a good reason.”

When Lief saw that window of opportunity—Courtney making a homework date with a girlfriend from school—he was ready to get back to that Victorian on the premise of a tour and some free garden stock. It had only been a couple of days, but Courtney didn’t provide many such opportunities. He realized he’d never thought ahead enough to ask Kelly for a phone number.

The tour and veggies were an excuse, though he did find the property curious and interesting. But really, it was the brokenhearted blonde with the delicious mouth who drew him. And bless her little soul, Lief was almost glad she was overcoming lost love. That would buy him some time. Although he just couldn’t stop thinking about her, he had so many complications in his life to sort out. First of all, it wasn’t likely Courtney’s behavior was going to improve if Lief introduced a new woman into their already tenuous relationship. And any woman getting involved with them would probably be horrified by Courtney’s sass if not her style. Add to that, it had been years since he’d been attracted to a woman other than his wife and didn’t even know where to start. He used to be good with women; it never took much effort to hook up. He really hoped it was like riding a bike…

Yeah, it would probably involve years of therapy for himself and Courtney before he would even get up the courage to chance a kiss.

But when he thought of Kelly, he thought of someone whose beauty and warmth enveloped him, someone he longed to hold, to sink into, to possess. There was a softness and allure to her that made him feel as though he had no will of his own. The second she’d walked into Jack’s he’d felt it, and to his surprise, he’d kept feeling it long after she was out of sight.

But it surpassed sweet comfort—he also thought of sex. Urgent sex. She was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time. He had a feeling he could be completely reborn in her arms.

He drove out to the house, parked in the front and rang the bell. She came to the door looking as if she’d just had a wrestling match with the Pillsbury Doughboy—tendrils of her hair escaping a scarf that tied it back, something floury on her cheek, her apron stained pink here and there. She was drying her hands on a towel. “Lief!” she said. “You’re about the last person I expected to see!”

He nodded. “That’s because I said I would call. But—I got away without a number. If you’ll give me one, I’ll leave now, drive to the bar in town, call you and drive right back. So it doesn’t look like I’m imposing on—” He sniffed. “What is that wonderful smell?”

She smiled at him and he realized at once that it was really too easy to bewitch a chef—just smell her cooking and she was as good as captured.

“I’ve been baking. The rhubarb crop is in and apparently I’m the only person in a hundred square miles who can make a good rhubarb pie. And then there’s rhubarb jam.” She shrugged. “It was going to go bad if I didn’t.”

He almost swooned from the aromas. “Thank God you came to town,” he said.

“Come in,” she invited with a laugh. “I’m just cleaning up the kitchen. I’ll see if Jill has time to take you for a tour of the house and grounds. Then, if you’re very good, I’ll give you a slice of pie.”

“Are you sure? Because I really meant to call in advance and ask you to pick a time …”

“I’m picking a time,” she said, pulling on his hand. “Come in. I’m still busy in the kitchen and kind of desperate for my shower, but maybe Jill is free. Let’s see.”

He followed her into the house and noted there was no furniture until he got to the kitchen. There, as promised, was a mess. But resting on the kitchen table in the large breakfast nook were ten pies. And there were now other smells. His head tilted back and his nose began to work the room.

She noticed. “I’m roasting a leg of lamb for dinner. Can you stay?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m imposing …”

“On a chef?” She laughed. “I’m more likely to be insulted if you decline.”

He grinned at her. Maybe that old saying about the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was true, because suddenly he wanted her even more. Wanted! He really thought he was far past that kind of fierce yearning. He had found himself amazed even to be intrigued. This desire was just awesome, and he relished it. “I’ll stay. My daughter is doing homework with a friend and having dinner there tonight.”

“That’s right,” she said. “There’s a daughter. I apologize. I’d forgotten. I’ll have both of you next time.”

He just laughed; they’d have to revisit that idea. “Courtney is actually my stepdaughter, though she uses my last name. It’s complicated. I’ll explain later. But what are you going to do with all those pies?”

“I don’t know. I could use a bigger freezer, but only the most essential equipment is in the house at the moment. I guess I’ll spread ‘em around. A few for Preacher, that’s for sure—he told me he’s been trying to make a decent rhubarb pie for years. I can’t believe how much stuff Jill has that’s running out of time—tomorrow I have to get a good start on blackberries. She’s had friends and neighbors out here picking for a good month and there’s still such a big crop left, someone has to do something with it. Blackberry preserves, jam, pie filling…. I came up here to surf the Net for a job, and I’m working my tail off. Let me go out to the garden and ask her if she has time to scoot you around in her garden mobile …”

“Garden mobile?”