Harvest Moon

Page 16

“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 n**ed br**sts, and she not only moaned in pleasure but arched toward him. “See? Yet another thing we have in common—I love your br**sts 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 ni**les 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 n**ed 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.”