Harvest Moon - By Robyn Carr Page 0,81

sent me back and said, no—she’ll live with you, visit me. Then he said, ‘Just take the little freak’ and you had him up against the wall, telling him you were going to kill him. And then—all the way back to your house, you were like purple, you were so pissed! You think I’m too fucking stupid to figure out no one wanted me? That I had nowhere to go?”

Lief sank weakly to the couch in his great room. She’d been a witness to the whole thing. How could she not understand any of it? In his head he heard himself telling her she shouldn’t be saying fucking….

But she was gone. The door to her room slammed.

He felt like the bones in his body had melted. She couldn’t really have misunderstood to that degree, could she? He tried to run the film of the whole year following Lana’s death in his mind, and it was clear as yesterday, but he couldn’t see it from Courtney’s perspective. His wife had died of an aneurism while at work; he’d been called to come to the hospital, though she was already gone. He’d had to pick up Court from school and try to explain through his own choking tears. It was such a dark blur—holding his little girl, crying with her, burying her mother.

And after that—packing her off to Stu. Hating that son of a bitch as Lief only got her for a quick weekend a couple of times a month. After all, Stu hadn’t raised her; he’d never had her longer than the occasional weekend.

Finally he stood up, forced himself to lift his chin, and went to Courtney’s room. He didn’t knock. He opened the door to find her on her cell phone. “Call whoever that is back,” he said. “I need ten minutes.”

She clicked off and looked up at him expectantly.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said. “The worst day of my life was when your mom died. The second worst day was when your father said, ‘Well, I guess Courtney comes to live with us now.’ I had to fight him, Courtney, to get weekend visitation. I had to pay him child support to get you two weekends a month. That day you called me to come for you, the day I got violent with him, I wanted to kill him for letting you be treated that way, for talking about you the way he did, for shoving you away when he should have put his life on the line to keep you safe! To make sure you knew you were loved and wanted. I swear to God.”

She lifted her chin. “Looked like you were pissed off because he told you I was your problem from now on,” she said.

“I should have killed him for saying that. He should never have let you feel that way. He was wrong.”

“And I have to go there? To spend Christmas with him?”

“I will take you myself. I’ll stay close, my cell phone on at all times, and if things aren’t perfect, I’ll get you out of there. Please trust me.”

She looked down. “Funny you don’t just take advantage of the vacation,” she said. “You and the girlfriend.”

“And it’s funny you don’t give her a chance. She’s a good person. She wants to come along—camp out in Orlando where you are. She said one false move and she’d be happy to kick some ass.”

She widened her eyes. “She said that?”

Lief nodded. “Not that many people are like Stu and Sherry. I hope to God they’ve changed.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she said. Then she shuddered. “They’re awful.”

“Last time,” he promised. “The lawyer is working up some paperwork asking for custody. Permanent custody. And I’ll be close by, I promise.”

“What about Spike?”

“I’ll make sure he’s taken care of. I’ll find someone to take care of him before we go.”

“Okay,” she finally said. “But I think it’s a bad, bad idea.”

Fourteen

On the sixteenth, Kelly arrived at Lief’s house at four in the afternoon, her arms laden with groceries. A second trip to her car brought her back with gifts for Lief and Courtney. While Lief and Courtney were pulling the last of their things together to pack, Kelly was cooking a special farewell dinner for them.

Too bad it couldn’t be a joyous occasion.

Kelly didn’t add her gifts to those still under the tree; she put hers on the table. Then she got busy—Courtney loved pasta, and Kelly had some to-die-for meatballs that she’d made

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