Harvest Moon

  “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 stoppe
d 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.