Harvest Moon
Page 25
“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
Two 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.”
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
Two 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.”
