Harvest Moon (Virgin River #15)(33)

Sinette let him in the front door. “Gelda and family have taken up residence in the mudroom, Lief,” she said. “Right behind the kitchen.”

“What have you done to me, Sinette?” he teased.

“If Hawk doesn’t get that dog fixed, I might be fixin’ him! Nine this time. And I swear to God, I think they’re half wolf!”

“Gelda’s not the best planner, I guess,” he said. “Maybe some old wolf snuck up on her.”

“I doubt he had to sneak,” Sinette said, walking away from him toward the kitchen.

There was the sound of hushed voices coming from inside the mudroom, the whisperings of children. He stood in the frame of the door and saw that Amber, Courtney and even Rory were sitting on the floor, cuddling brand-new puppies. Rory’s wheelchair was pushed off to one side. They all looked up at him at the same time.

Courtney held a little blond pup close to her chin. “This one is mine,” she said vehemently. “His name is Spike.”

“Spike?” Lief said, trying not to laugh.

“He’ll grow into it,” she said confidently, gently putting him back in the box. “Seriously, he’s mine.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Lief said. “We’re gonna have to get going, Court. Did you get that homework done?”

“Pretty much,” she said.

Courtney lifted the puppy from Rory’s hands to return it to Gelda’s brood. Then Lief watched in wonder as Courtney stood and gently pulled Rory upright. Rory hung on around Courtney’s neck while she maneuvered him into his wheelchair, propped his feet on the bottom and ruffled his hair. He was almost as big as she was. Or, Courtney was almost as small as Rory.

He felt his eyes sting. That was his girl—kind and loving. Generous. Sometimes he missed her so much.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Let me get my stuff out of Amber’s room. Be right back.”

Lief wandered back toward the living room where he found Hawk and Rory’s dad playing a little cribbage by the front window.

Without looking up from his game, Hawk said, “Your daughter won the bet on how many pups.”

“Is that so? What did she win?”

Hawk looked up briefly, a lopsided smile on his face. “The pups.”

Lief laughed. “You’re a real pal.”

Then Courtney was beside him, jacket donned and backpack slung over one shoulder. “’Kay,” she said.

“’Night, Peacock,” Hawk said, still concentrating on his game.

“’Night, Hawk. Thanks for dinner.”

“Always a pleasure, Peacock. You take care.”

Seven

Jillian and her assistant Denny were tilling a half-acre plot on the west side of the Victorian, getting it ready to mulch to prepare for a spring planting. Jillian was handling the gas-powered tiller while begloved Denny was behind her, removing large rocks from her wake. Even in the chilly October morning, they were both sweating.

When she got to the end of a row and turned, she noticed Colin was standing at the garden edge. He’d taken quite a hike from the house to get here, so thinking it must be important, she went to him.

“I thought you were painting,” she said.

“I am. I was. Listen, something strange is going on in the house. Kelly’s loft is above the sunroom and there are sounds. At first I thought she was singing in the shower or something. But then I thought maybe she was crying.”

Jill lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure Lief isn’t in the house? Maybe they’re doing something that sounds like singing or crying…”

Colin was shaking his head. “Nope. I even looked around outside for a car or truck. Should I just stay busy for a while and ignore it?”

“She said she had something to do this morning, but she didn’t say what… I just assumed she’d be busy in the kitchen.”

“Whatever it was, I think it made her cry. A lot.”

“Well, maybe I better check on her, make sure nothing is seriously wrong. Maybe they had an argument or something.”

“I was hoping you’d do that.”

“Why? Are you worried?”

“Not so much that, but I was hoping you’d drive me back to the house in the garden mobile. I’ll stay on the porch until you investigate.”

Jillian was actually surprised that, by the time she was climbing to the third floor, there were still sounds of sniffles and whimpers. It made her a little scared; Kelly was not known for crying. Halfway up the staircase she stopped and knocked on the wall. “Kell?” she asked.

“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.”