Harvest Moon - By Robyn Carr Page 0,105

late,” Kelly said. “We don’t have to bother them. I’ll just sleep on your couch and you get some rest.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know, honey. But I think you’ve had a hard enough night. I don’t mind.”

“But you don’t have pajamas,” she said.

“I’ll live. Won’t be the first time I’ve slept in my clothes.”

“My dad’s going to kill me.”

“Nah, he’ll get over it…”

Courtney glanced at her. “You could’ve said, ‘Oh, we don’t have to tell him.’”

Kelly smiled. “No. I couldn’t. You have to own it, Courtney. When you screw up you own it, you make amends, you learn your lesson.”

“Yeah, I guess. Sooner or later he’d find out anyway. Like when he sees Spike with a shorter than usual tail.”

“Yeah. Dead giveaway.”

It was quiet in Kelly’s car for a long time. Then Courtney said, “It was nice of you to help me out, take me to the vet…”

“You’d do it for me,” she replied.

“Well, thanks a lot. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Listen, Courtney, if I hadn’t answered, someone else would’ve. Jack or Preacher or Amber’s dad… I like Spike. I was happy to help out.”

Another long silence passed. Then Courtney said, “You can sleep in my dad’s room if you want to.”

Kelly reached over and patted Courtney’s knee. “I’ll be fine.”

It was about eleven at night when Kelly heard her cell phone chime, alerting her to a text message. Where are you? it said.

She glanced down the hall to see that Courtney’s bedroom door was closed and her light off. Then she went to the great room, picked up the cordless phone and called Lief’s cell. When he answered, she said, “I’m sitting on your sofa, watching TV. But I had to check the wiring behind the entertainment console before turning it on.”

“What?” he asked.

“We’ve had a little excitement, and I’m spending the night on your couch.”

She explained the events of the evening, her story punctuated by Lief continually saying Oh, God and Oh, Jesus.

“So, the dog will live?” he finally asked.

“It appears so. And so will Courtney.”

“Tell her she’s in big trouble,” he said.

“Sorry, boss. That’s above my pay grade. You tell her when you get home. And she’s having a sore throat tomorrow…”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m calling her in sick to school. We’ll go visit the dog or hopefully pick him up and bring him home. I know she was a bad girl, but that bad girl has been through the grinder with this. She’s limp as a noodle with remorse.”

“Whatever you want,” he said tiredly.

“I’ll stay till you get home tomorrow night. Then you can do whatever you have to do.”

“Well, go find a T-shirt of mine or something. Sleep in my bed.”

But it was hard enough to think about his bed, to think about his wonderful scent on the pillow. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just travel safe.”

“There’s some brandy in the cupboard above the Sub-Zero, kind of hidden behind the Crock-Pot.”

She laughed at him. “Now, I might take you up on that.”

After they hung up, Kelly used the kitchen’s step stool to root out that brandy, poured herself a small bit in a juice glass and settled back on the sofa, wrapped in the throw. And she was really quite happy watching very old, very late night television reruns. She was almost done with her brandy and starting to nod off when she heard an odd sound.

She turned the volume way down. Yes, an odd sound. The wind whistling through the pines maybe. If Spike were here it could be the sound of him whining in the kennel, but he wasn’t here. She threw off the blanket and got up, creeping down the hall toward Courtney’s room, listening. Sure enough—little miss was crying. Scared for her dog probably.

On instinct, Kelly just opened the door. “Hey, hey, hey,” she said, entering and sitting on the bed. “He’s going to be fine. Try not to worry!”

Courtney turned over a bit. “I could’ve killed him!” she said.

“Oh, honey, he got into mischief. That’s why we watch. He’s going to be all right.”

But she turned back and just sobbed into her pillow.

Kelly lay down on the bed behind her, spooning her. “Wow, you have a major pity party going on here,” she said, running fingers along Courtney’s temple, stroking back her hair. “We’ll pick him up tomorrow and I bet he’s not even brain damaged. Probably not any smarter, though, so be warned. You might have to do the majority of thinking in this family for