Cheyenne (3 page)

Standing in the doorway, I watched as they drove away, once more wondering how I managed to avoid them forcing me to come to their home. They mentioned it once, but I touched his arm and told him I would be fine, and the sheriff didn’t push it anymore.

I turned toward the entry, my eyes lingering on the forest, when I saw it—another dark misty shadow clinging to the trees. A shaky breath left my lips, and I blinked, fighting to clear my vision. I froze, staring at the unmoving object. Without warning, the hair on the nape of my neck began to rise. I closed my eyes briefly. I was imagining things again, imagining that someone was watching me. I shook it off and went back into the house, bolting the door behind me. I went into the kitchen to double-check that the back door was bolted also. I rewet the washcloth and headed straight for the couch. Lying down, I placed the wet cloth over my swollen lids as I rested. My head ached again, and my vision was blurring slightly. I would try texting Colt again soon. He’d reply and everything would be better…it had to be.

The sheriff returned Monday morning and drove me to the funeral parlor. He helped with the decisions that needed to be made. I decided on cremation. Neither the gentlemen assisting us or the sheriff would come right out and say that it was a wise choice, but I understood that not much of my parents’ bodies remained. They would have the urn ready for me by the end of the week.

I tried texting Colt again while in town and finally one message sent. I waited in earnest for a reply; none came. I longed for his presence. I needed him so desperately and had no way to tell him.

The week passed quietly with frequent visits from the sheriff and his wife. I managed to drive into town and collect my parent’s remains. I knew what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go. Once home, I hiked the familiar trail that we had taken so many times alone. It was quiet and peaceful as I passed through the trees. We had walked this path many times in the last three years. This home was by far my favorite of all the locations we had lived.

As I crested the small ravine, I looked down into the landscape below. This was my mother’s favorite spot. During the summer months, there would be a large patch of wildflowers growing off the side of the hill. I closed my eyes and replayed my memories of my parents. My mom would always bring a bouquet home with us afterwards. She said it was because she wanted the scent to remain fresh in her mind.

I climbed down into the area where the flowers would grow, and sprinkled their ashes. Tears wet my lashes, as I thought of all the fond moments that we would never share again. I choked down the feelings that I would never be able to express and mourned the time that I would never spend with them. I sighed and set the small wooden urn down in the dirt. My eyes closed, as I let the tears continue to fall. They fell until I had no more to give.

Time passed slowly, but it did pass. On Friday, exactly one week to the day my parents died, I was staring at the camping equipment still in the hallway. I hadn’t touched it. I knew they were gone, but I think deep down I still had hope they would just show up and we would leave. I needed to have things ready if they came. That’s why I left the items there. I just couldn’t move them—not yet.

My head was beginning to get that familiar ache. I had been getting frequent headaches lately, and sometimes they were so bad that I was barely able to do much else but lie in a dark room. My parents and Colt knew about them, and they were concerned. I tried to hide it most of the time so they wouldn’t worry. I was sure this headache was just from all the crying I had done over the past week.

Sunday morning arrived, and the throbbing in my head was even worse. Rounding the corner from the stairs, I tripped on a sleeping bag. I landed on the floor and sat there. My parents weren’t coming home, and the overwhelming emotions were building inside again. I had to get rid of these things. Every time I looked at them, it reminded me my mom and dad were gone. I rose to my feet and began dragging the items to the basement stairs through the pain of my pounding skull. Opening the door, I started tossing everything down. Each piece that I threw crushed my already broken heart more.

The stove crashed open as it hit the basement floor. I threw the pots and lantern down after it; glass shattered. The box of utility items went next. The tent and all its parts smashed into the growing mess. The backpacks and then the sleeping bags were next. Standing numbly at the top of the stairs, I didn’t scream or cry.

I was alone.

I couldn’t do much else as I leaned against the doorframe and finally collapsed onto the floor. I knew Colt was supposed to be back today. I consoled myself with the fact that he would come over as soon as he could.

Sometime later, there was a familiar knock on the front door. I didn’t move. A key turned in the lock, and the door opened. Colt knew where the hidden key was located on the porch, and he had used it.

“
Cheyenne?” his concerned voice rang out. His heavy footsteps stopped in the living room. “Cheyenne, where are you?” I didn’t answer as his pounding feet ran up the stairs.

“
Cheyenne!” his voice was growing more panicked as he ran back down the steps. He moved into the kitchen and stopped. He found me sitting at the top of the stairs with my back turned to him.

“
When did you get back?” my cracking voice asked.

“
This morning,” he replied sorrowfully as he moved closer. He squatted and turned me around.

“
I’ve missed you,” I whispered as my head hung low.

He lifted his fingers to my chin and tilted it up. I looked up into his empathic eyes. “I just now received your text and voicemail messages,” he explained. “I’m so sorry.”

“
You’re here now.” Colt didn’t hesitate. He drew his strong, secure arms around me, and I latched on to him as if there was no tomorrow. He lifted me and carried me to the living room, where we sat on the couch. The flood of tears returned. I had worked so hard for the last week to keep my emotions under control around Sheriff Taylor and Joni. Now that Colt was here, it was like a dam had burst. I wanted to tell him how alone I felt, how my sobs echoed through the silent house, but I didn’t. I just sat in silence and took comfort in the arms that held me.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and I realized just how much my head was aching. It was like a stampede of horses were loose and pounding the ground with their deafening rhythm.

“
I’m sorry, Colt. I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” I said in a muffled tone. My face was pressed into his shoulder, which was now stained with smeared remnants of mascara.

He drew back and tilted my chin up, wiping the remaining tears away with his thumbs. My eyelids were so swollen that I could hardly open them. “How about you lie down for a while? You’re not looking so good. When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

“
Yesterday,” I replied, as I closed my eyes. “My head is hurting something awful.”

He released a deep sigh. “Wait here, while I make you something to eat and drink. I’ll bring some aspirin for your head, too.”

After he rustled around in the kitchen for a time, he returned with a tray of sandwiches. I ate part of one, drank some water, and took the medicine. He gently pressed my shoulder down as I was now lying with my head across his lap. He started to run his fingers through my hair. It didn’t take long before I fell into a deep sleep.

I woke in a panic. It was Monday morning, and the sun was up—we were going to be late for school. I tried to sit up, only to have his large hand gently push me back down. I looked up in desperation.

“
It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I’ve already called about today. The school knows what’s going on; Sheriff Taylor told them. Apparently, they’ve been trying to contact you. You can go back when you’re ready.”

I knew that no matter how much time they gave me, I would never be ready. How could I?

The weeks began to blur together, but not a moment passed without thoughts of my parents. I missed them desperately. Colt was a constant figure at my side. It had been over five weeks since my parents’ deaths, and he had been staying in the extra bedroom. It brought me comfort knowing that he was close, but I knew that he couldn’t stay in my house with me indefinitely. We had discussed it, and tonight was his last night staying over. I was going to have to be on my own. I had never met his parents, and he never mentioned them. We never went to his house; only mine. I didn’t even know if they cared that he’d been staying with me this whole time. It seemed strange, but I hadn’t thought to ask.

“
Cheyenne, you know I don’t mind staying.” Colt’s blue eyes were soft and compassionate as he reached for my hand across the kitchen table. I was trying to complete some assignments for school. I had been given extra time due to the circumstances, but I really needed to make some effort.

Quickly averting my eyes, I tried to focus once more before I lost my willpower. I drew my hand back. “I know, but it’s time. Besides, you hang off the bed in the spare room. I’m sure you’re looking forward to sleeping in your own bed.”

He sighed. “It’s not that bad here.”

I snorted. “Yes, it is. I’ve seen you.” I immediately cringed. I didn’t want him to know that I had been in his room while he slept. A couple of times I had awakened in the early morning hours after a bad dream and crept down the hall to see him. I just needed the comfort of knowing he was there.

“
You’ve seen me?” his voice raised an octave in surprise, but I could see the humor behind his pretend shock. I had just given him the ammunition to tease me. Turning away, I tried to figure out how to get out of this one. “So, how many times have you watched me sleep?” he asked.

I tried to change the subject. “I have a project that’s due for my art class. I need a subject to draw. Do you mind posing for me?” I flipped the pages of the book in my lap.

“
I don’t know,” he pondered. “Will I be awake or sleeping?”

“
I want to do one outside and then one inside. The outside pose will be you sitting on a rock or something. The one inside will be more natural, relaxed. You can watch TV or read a book or something,” I said nervously.

“
I see. Maybe I’ll take a nap.” I looked up to see a devious grin spreading across his lips. Those lips…I shouldn’t be thinking about those lips. Ever since the day he kissed my cheek and hugged me before he left on his motorcycle, something had changed. The fact he was around even more wasn’t helping. Suddenly, I was starting to feel like I wanted more from our relationship. He was always there for me, and I didn’t want to live without him.

Of course, I had always known Colt was striking. I saw the girls at school ogle over him. I just never gave the idea of him being interested in me a second thought. I wasn’t a knock out. I was just average, not someone he would pursue, at least that’s what I had thought.

I blinked and then nodded. “Fine then. Later this afternoon.”

Rising from his chair, he squeezed my arm. “While you finish here, I’m going to tackle the mess at the bottom of the basement stairs.” He paused, as once again his face softened. “You don’t need to deal with it; I’ll take care of it for you.”

I felt the tears wanting to come, but I held them back. “Thank you,” I whispered. I watched as his long stride took him to the basement door and he quickly descended the stairs.

I heard the clanging of the camp stove and pots as he cleaned up the mess I’d made of the camping equipment. I couldn’t deal with the memories it brought up, so I took my books and went to the living room. I put my iPod in and tried to think of other things. I managed briefly to keep my mind off my parents; however, I didn’t manage to keep my thoughts off Colt.

He was the closest friend I’d ever had. I had purposely built up a barrier around myself, so I didn’t get hurt when I moved so often. Somehow, he managed to break down that wall, and I let him into my life and heart. I had opened up to him, telling him secrets that I had never told anyone else. I told him why I didn’t have many friends. I told him that most times I felt out of place at school, and he understood. It was like he knew what I was thinking. He was attuned to what I needed most.

I didn’t ask him to stay with me at the house; he just did. I never asked him to start driving me to school, but I accepted it. Now that my parents were gone, I realized how much I relied on him. It was as if he desperately wanted to help take care of me. He was just a friend, though. That’s what friends do for each other, right? I was starting to confuse those lines, and I didn’t want to say anything if he wasn’t confusing those lines too. I was so deep in thought that I jumped when he touched my shoulder.

He chuckled. “Are you ready for me to strike a pose?”

“
Yeah, sorry. I must have had my music up too loud.” Rising, I gathered up my charcoals for drawing and followed him out the front door.

“
Where to?” He towered before me. Glancing around the house, I then went to the side yard. There were pieces of sunshine breaking through the trees by the decorative grasses. I sighed.

“
Over here,” I said quietly and pointed where I wanted him to sit. I took a number of steps back and rested myself against a large boulder. I looked up and saw Colt pretending to pose and then quickly changing positions. It made me smile, and he knew it. “Like this,” I said. I deposited my art supplies on the ground and stepped closer, squatting before him to rearrange his arms, legs, and head. “That’s better.” I toppled forward, leaning a little into his shoulder before I regained my balance. His firm hands helped steady me, but not before I heard him inhale as he turned his face into my neck.