Harvest Moon by Robyn Carr Page A

Because of what she said, I pinned him down to DMD—Duchenne muscular dystrophy. She said there was no cure and he wasn’t getting better and he’s already in a wheelchair. He’s really kind of cute with his glasses sliding off his nose—looks like that little kid in Jerry Maguire. And he’s scary smart—he’s eight and doing seventh grade spelling and math. And he’s funny. His parents let him zone out on video games to keep his reflexes exercised, but there’s nothing they can do about the muscles in his back or legs.”
    “You like him. You like the whole family,” Jerry observed.
    She gave something like a nod. But then she said, “Makes you wonder if there’s any God, seeing a kid like that get something like that.”
    Jerry leaned forward. “Courtney, you joined the geniuses of the centuries in wondering that very thing. Unfairness and injustice are two things that really threaten blind faith.”
    “Why are you talking to me like I’m an adult?” She made a face.
    He looked surprised. “Did I say something you didn’t understand?”
    “No,” she relented. “Yeah, I like the family. I like the animals, even if there aren’t that many. My dad grew up on a potato farm and we used to go there. We haven’t been there in a while.”
    “What animals?” Jerry asked.
    “There’s a golden retriever mix who’s about to have puppies and you can feel them move around inside her—I bet there’s gonna be nine. I mean, it’s a real bet—I even put a dollar in the jar. There are chickens, goats, one cow and two horses. A million cats, like at my dad’s Idaho farm. They keep the mice down.”
    Jerry smiled at her. “If you like hanging out at farms, you’re going to make plenty of friends around here. Lots of farm kids around here.”
    “Yeah, well. I have exactly one friend so far.”
    “But do you trust her? Like her? Is she a good person?” Jerry asked.
    “She is good. Kind of lame and dorky, but she wouldn’t know how to be a bad person.”
    “I’m going to tell you something that might be a little hard for you to buy into right now, but a couple of good, trustworthy, loyal friends—it’s a lot. In junior high and high school, kids collect friends in such big numbers it sometimes seems ridiculous to think you could get by on just a couple of good ones. But really, one good friend rather than a dozen you’re not too sure of—no contest.”
    She was quiet for a minute. “I had a lot of friends before my mom died.”
    Jerry was respectfully quiet for a minute also. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Courtney. The death of a close loved one can often change the landscape of everything else in your life.”
    “Is this where we segue into talking about my dead mother?”
    He smiled at her, but it was a comforting smile. “Segue. Movie talk. You’ll probably have to explain that term around here. I thought we’d keep this short today, our first day together, and sneak up on the more difficult subjects over time. You okay with that?”
    “Yeah,” she said. “I think I’m already tired. I don’t know why—it’s not like I had to walk here.”
    “It’s okay. I think we’re off to a decent start. You didn’t even make fun of my wardrobe or haircut. I don’t always get off that easy.”
    “I decided not to hurt your feelings, in case you’re—you know—sensitive.”
    “Thank you. Very sporting of you. Want to come back after school on Monday?”
    She straightened. “How long do I have to do this?”
    “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I assume we’ll both know when we’ve had enough.”
    She scooted to the edge of her chair. “Do we have to do this until my hair is all one color, my fingernails painted pink and my clothes pastel?”
    He grinned hugely. “Courtney, look at me. What are the odds I’m going to take pokes at anyone’s style?”
    “Do you have any good friends?”
    “Yes. A few quality friends, actually.”
    She snorted. “ That’s promising!