After about three hours in bed, they shared a shower and went back to bed, lying quietly and close, talking. Sometime around eleven they heard distant voices downstairs and finally the closing of Jill and Colin’s bedroom door. Just after midnight Kelly and Lief dressed, or mostly dressed. Lief pulled on his jeans and socks, leaving his shirt open, and Kelly wore leggings and an extra-long sweater. They crept downstairs to the kitchen. Lief lit candles on the table, and Kelly pulled out the uneaten dessert—her best tiramisu. They sat at the table, their chairs facing. Lief pulled her legs over his thighs, and in the candlelight, they fed each other bites of tiramisu. There were still embers in the hearth from hours ago, and they could see the starlight in the clear November sky on the horizon over the trees.
“Do you miss the city?” he asked her.
“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “Especially when I look at that sky. The last couple of days I spent there, I realized I hated my apartment and my job. I love San Francisco, but I can go back there anytime. For a visit, at least. Do you? Miss the city?”
He shook his head. “I was always a little out of place there. I’m more comfortable in a place like this. I’m happier around fields, streams and trees than freeways and high-rises.”
“But your work…”
“There are people in L.A. I have to work with from time to time, the agents, producers, etcetera. But I can write anywhere.”
“Are you working at all?” she asked him.
“Barely. I’ve been sketching, outlining, making notes. It’s not much of anything. The hardest work I do looks like fishing. Typing isn’t the hard part, it’s thinking.” He fed her another bite. “I want to spend every minute with you,” he said. “And I can’t.”
“I know.”
“I have to move slowly with Courtney… I have to set an example. I don’t want her to get the impression it’s all right for her to have wild sex whenever she feels like it.”
“But it’s all right for you?” she teased.
“It’s actually healthy for me,” he said with a smile. “And when she’s forty-two, she can do anything she wants. But right now, one day at a time.”
“If you aren’t careful, she’s going to wear black lipstick and dye her hair seven different colors…”
“I hear that happens. And there’s another thing—holidays are coming up. I’d like to spend them with you, but I think for Thanksgiving I’d better take Courtney home to my family in Idaho—a visit before Spike comes to live with us. She hasn’t seen them in a long time, and I’ll be honest, I’m anxious for them to see her looking normal. I’d like to take you with me, but I’m afraid it’s too soon…”
“I understand, Lief. I’m a big girl.”
“You might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. Thank you for understanding.”
“Of course I understand. Now, since you’re going to be unavailable most of the time, take me back to bed and be the best thing that’s happened to me in about an hour.”
“My pleasure,” he said, standing and reaching for her hand.
Life felt brand-new to Kelly. Like a couple of bad kids, they stole moments alone at Lief’s house while Courtney was in school or at her friend’s house. They hadn’t scored another whole night together, but there was no mistaking a new glow in his eyes and the satisfied flush on her cheeks.
Time in the kitchen was much more pleasurable for Kelly during the November wet and cold. She kept the kitchen hearth blazing and the stove or ovens running. The county health inspector had visited, passed her with flying colors, and now it was just down to paperwork—her official permits would arrive by mail soon. She had stacked crates of her specialty sauces, relishes and chutneys in the unfurnished dining room, and now, while it drizzled outside, she was indulging her favorite pastime of baking breads and rolls, some of which she would give away and some that would be frozen.
Colin had her labels printed for her, and she added business cards to the supplies. Jillian, a former PR executive, put together a four-color brochure, and Kelly set about the task of making a list of people she could send some complimentary jars to. There were about a dozen stores and delis in the general area that she would hand-deliver her goods to. There were also shops and restaurants in the Bay Area where she was a known chef. She thought they would be receptive to the gift and might even wish to order more. While her bread baked, she boxed up packages for delivery or shipping.
During this time of year, Virgin River exploded with duck hunters, and one of them was Lief Holbrook. He wanted to go out a couple of times with Muriel and Walt and had invited Courtney to come along. “Ewww,” she said. So Kelly generously offered to be Courtney’s go-to girl while Lief squatted behind a bush at river’s edge with a duck whistle in his pocket.
“It’s not like I need a babysitter,” she said indignantly.
“Of course you don’t, but you might need a ride somewhere or something to occupy your time after school. You can help me bake bread if you want to—it’s fun.”
“Whatever,” came the inevitable reply.
“Or you can watch TV or watch Colin paint or maybe even drive the garden mobile for Jillian, who works rain or shine.”
“That sounds a lot more interesting than bread,” she said.
And Kelly thought,
It’s going to be a long, long courtship!
“Are you sure?” Lief whispered to her when Courtney was out of earshot.
“Maybe if I actually spend a little time alone with her, things will improve between us.”
“You do understand that it’s not about you, right?”
“Are you sure? Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I don’t claim to have any instincts about kids, especially teenagers.”
“Trust me,” he said. “It’s all about her. As much trouble as she gives me, I think it makes her nervous to think about sharing me. Plus there’s likely a little bit of her being afraid her mother will be replaced or forgotten.”
“We’ll work it out,” Kelly said, though she wasn’t all that optimistic.
“If I get lucky, do you want a duck?”
That made her smile. “You would not believe what I can do with a duck.”
On the day Kelly picked Courtney up from school and brought her out to the Victorian, it was drizzling—great weather for ducks. So Courtney wasn’t real interested in driving around in the garden mobile. She went upstairs to the sunroom to see what Colin was painting, and Kelly started on more bread—she was doing a few glazed, twisted French loaves.
She was into the kneading when Courtney came down to the kitchen. She pulled up a chair at the work island and watched.
“Want some dough?” Kelly asked.
She shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”
“I’m making a few loaves that look like a braid.” She separated some dough, sprinkled a little flour on the island in front of Courtney and handed her the dough. “When I baked bread at the restaurant, which was pretty rare for me, I could make as many as a hundred loaves. We usually had our bread delivered from our favorite bakery, but now and then we did it ourselves. I love making bread. Lots of things in the kitchen smell good, but almost nothing beats bread baking.”
The whole bread-baking thing obviously didn’t interest Courtney because she asked, “What do you like about my dad?”
Kelly’s eyes snapped up. Courtney was kneading away at her ball of dough, not looking at Kelly. “I…ah… Well, he’s a very nice man. What do you like about him?”
“Me?” Courtney asked. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s just the two of us, anyway.”
“You must know what you like,” Kelly prompted.
“He’s pretty nice, sometimes. But he’s strict with me and he can’t be strict with you. But if you get married and have kids, you might not like how strict he is with them.”
That caused Kelly to stop kneading. “Um, a thought like that has never once crossed my mind.”
“About how strict he might be with your kids?” Courtney asked.
“About getting married and
having
them!”
“Oh. You’ll probably think of it pretty soon. My real dad did that—got married, had a couple of kids.”
“Seriously, Courtney—never crossed my mind. Not once.”
“Well, what
did
cross your mind?”
God, Kelly thought. Talk about baptism by fire. “Well, let’s see. I thought, what a nice guy that Lief Holbrook is. And handsome, too. And very talented— I watched one of his movies so far but it made me cry so much I haven’t watched another one.”
“
Deerslayer,
” she supplied. “My mom loved that movie.”
“Well, I was impressed, but I cried my eyes out.”
“What else?” Courtney asked. “About my dad? Do you like that he’s
rich?
”
“He’s rich?” Kelly asked.
“Well, duh.”
“I guess I never thought of that,” she said. “Well, I’ve been friends with rich guys before. I didn’t steal their money and run.” She grinned.
“Well, then, what else?”
“I don’t know. He can make me laugh—he’s funny. That’s a big plus. And I’m a chef and I think today he’s going to bring me a duck.”
“Gross,” she said.
“I won’t make you eat it,” she said, laughing in spite of herself. “I’ll fix you a hot dog.”
“I don’t even want to
see
it!”
“Well, I might have to cook it when you’re not staying for dinner then,” she said.
“Are you going to
pluck
it?”
“Of course I will. I know how to clean a duck, goose, hen, capon, squab, turkey, pheasant—”
“All right, I get it…”
“Quail,” she added. “Anything on webbed or three-toed feet, but I rarely had to. I had a fantastic butcher that specialized in fowl. Besides, hunters are usually responsible for prepping their game. I’m assuming your dad is going to pluck.”
And then Kelly concentrated on rolling out three long strips. She was aware that Courtney watched her. She tried to slow her hands down as she braided the strips, on the off chance Courtney wanted to copy her movements. Then she wiped her baking sheet with a thin coat of butter, brushed the top of her loaf with a little beaten egg and put it aside to do the next.
She glanced at Courtney’s project. A little uneven, but by all accounts, not bad. “Nice,” Kelly said. “Want me to bake it and send it home with you?”
Courtney looked up. “Do you get that I don’t want a mother?”
Well. Kelly couldn’t help it, she smiled. “Would you like a baseball bat to say that with?”
“Honestly,” Courtney said.
“I do get that. You will always and forever have only one mother, Courtney. And I’m very sorry for your loss. I lost my mother when I was young. I understand it’s not easy.”
“Did your father marry someone else then? And have kids?”
Oh, Kelly felt very bad about this. But there was no way around the truth. “My father died first. When I was six.”
“Oh.”
“There was an accident. We were all in it—me, Jillian, our parents. Jillian and I weren’t hurt. My father was killed and my mother was paralyzed and was in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. When I was sixteen, she passed away. We were raised by our great-grandmother, who was quite elderly when she took us in. And when I was twenty-five, my great-grandmother passed, but she was very, very old. She lived to her nineties.”
Courtney was quiet for a long, clumsy moment. “Yes, I’d like to bake the loaf and take it home.”
“Absolutely,” Kelly said. “You’re going to love it.”
Eleven
T
wo 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.”