Harvest Moon (Virgin River #15)(84)

Jerry lifted a brow. “And doesn’t she also have a little brother or nephew in a wheelchair? With a disease for which there is no known cure?”

“Rory,” she said in a breath. How had Rory not even come to mind? Because even though he was in a wheelchair, he was so cute and funny and crazy, it was easy to forget he might not live past his teenage years. He could, she knew that. Not likely, though. “Well, thanks a lot. Now I feel even worse.”

“When you and your dad understand each other’s feelings, you’re going to feel a lot better. I’m going to see you in a week. If you want to bring your dad along for a little help in talking about this, you’re welcome to do so.”

“Not f**king likely,” she said. Then she tilted her head and smirked at him. “You said I could swear.”

“Absolutely, Courtney. In fact, it’s helpful. When you cut loose like that, I know what things you’re most angry or passionate about.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes I really hate you.”

He smiled a bit. “I get that a lot.”

Nothing could solidify that rock in Courtney’s throat like shifting her thoughts from her own losses to the potential of losing Rory. She loved that goofy kid! And Amber might seem dorky, but Courtney knew in her heart that far more than dorky, she was sincere and loving and devoted to her family.

And to Courtney.

The very next day at lunch Courtney asked Amber, “Do you ever worry about maybe losing Rory?”

Amber chewed and swallowed and said, “All the time. It’s not even a maybe—if some wonderful, scientific thing doesn’t happen, we will lose him. And it kills me.”

“Does he know that?” she asked.

“Of course he does. He’s been in the chair two years—you think he hasn’t asked what it all means? Little booger is smart, you know that. He knows more about his disease than the doctors, I think.”

“Isn’t he scared?”

“Sometimes, but he knows it won’t hurt. He knows it will only hurt the ones like us who will have to miss him.”

Courtney shook her head. “How do you do that? Talk about it without crying?”

She shrugged. “We already did the crying.”

The next day was a rare sunny March day and Courtney’s riding lesson was on. She was getting very good on Blue; she could not only move her around expertly and perform a thorough grooming right down to the hooves, but she’d actually washed her down a couple of times.

After her lesson, Lilly Tahoma invited her to ride along the trail with her for a half hour or so before Lief picked her up. Blue was Lilly’s horse, but she let Courtney keep her and took one of the other stable horses.

Lilly yammered about how the green growth of spring was beginning to peek through, especially in the foothills, and they were enjoying one or two warm days every week. “And the snow pack in the mountains is beginning to melt, so watch yourself around the river—it will swell. Courtney?”

“Hm?” Courtney said, turning her attention back to Lilly.

“Did you hear what I said about the river?”

“No, what?”

“The snow pack in the mountains is beginning to melt. You should mind the river—it could swell and even flood.”

“Okay,” she said.

“You’ve been so quiet. Is there something on your mind?”

“Hm? No, nothing…”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you should never be dishonest. Just say ‘it’s personal’ and that will do it.”

“No, there’s nothing,” she insisted.

“Old Hopi saying—When you lose your temper, you lose a friend. When you lie, you lose yourself.”

And Courtney shot back, “When you’re nosy, you irritate people.”

Lilly chortled. “What is most fun about you, you have the face of a young girl and the sharp mind of a wizard. I apologize. I didn’t mean to pry or offend. You’re right to correct me.”

Courtney sighed. “Sometimes I just flip out. Sorry. I’ve been worrying about things. One of them is my best friend’s little eight-year-old nephew who has muscular dystrophy. He’s in a wheelchair and seems to be doing fine right now, but it’s not good, you know?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Sometimes life can seem so cruel.”

“No kidding.”

“How is your friend handling it?”

“She’s handling it fine! I’m not doing so great with it.”

“Oh, Courtney, there’s an adjustment to news like that. Don’t be hard on yourself.”

“Well, it’s not that I’m hard on myself,” she said. “You know my mother died, right? I mean, even though I never tell anyone, everyone seems to know.”

“I knew, yes. I believe your father mentioned it.”

“Well, that wasn’t too easy. And I guess I worry about going through stuff like that. It’s made me sad.” Then she shrugged. “I guess.”

“Oh, now, that I understand,” she said with a laugh. “I’m an expert at that. I was hurt once and decided never to be hurt again.”

Courtney was astonished and looked at Lilly. “Really? I mean, really?”