When Snow Falls (5 page)

“I spilled my sippy cup,” Anita complained. “I need another bath.”

Chey gripped her purse tighter. “No problem. I’ll bring a wet washcloth.”

“That won’t be enough. It was juice. I’m sticky all over. And the bedding…it has to be changed.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, Cheyenne pressed her free hand to her face. Bathing Anita was so difficult. It took all her strength, despite her mother’s dramatic weight loss. And now there’d be two baths in one night?

She imagined Eve lying beneath Joe, imagined how he might be touching her, kissing her, and nearly crumpled to her knees. She’d fantasized about Joe ever since she’d met him, but much more since his divorce. It was her only guilty pleasure.

But now…she couldn’t even have that, not if he got together with Eve.

“Are you coming?”

The impatience in Anita’s voice grated on Chey’s nerves. What if she walked back to her car, got in and simply drove off?

Determined to do just that, she whirled around and ran to the street. She’d escape her mother at last—on her own terms—and go find the blonde woman.

She had her keys in her hand and was opening her car door before the rational part of her mind regained control. What was she thinking? She didn’t even know where to start looking. She had no name, couldn’t associate the blonde woman with any particular city or place. She’d gone to the police before—not here but in New Mexico after she’d turned fourteen. She’d told them she thought she’d been abducted, but they’d insisted she didn’t match anyone who’d been reported missing and sent her home. What made her think she’d get a different reception now?

Besides, she couldn’t go anywhere. What would happen to Presley? Who would take care of Anita while Presley had to work? Who would handle their mother’s funeral and burial when the time came?

Not Presley. She wasn’t capable of holding herself together long enough.

And who would help Eve save the inn?

Hanging her head, Cheyenne stood in the cold, the wind whipping at her hair while she stared at her feet. Not only did she have responsibilities here in Whiskey Creek, she had friends. She couldn’t let them down just because Eve was dating the man she loved. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did.

With a deep breath, she locked up her car and returned to the house.

“Coming,” she called to her mother the moment she walked in, but as she hurried past the full-length mirror hanging on Presley’s door, she stopped dead in her tracks. In the dim light streaming into the hallway from her own bedroom, she looked so much like the willowy blonde woman in her dreams she almost thought her reflection belonged to someone else.

5

J
oe was the last person Cheyenne wanted to see. Whether he was aware of her aborted attempt to spy on him last night or not, she was embarrassed about her behavior, afraid that he’d see through her, and she didn’t want to cope with finding him wearing a big, fat, satisfied smile. She was having a hard enough time soldiering on
without
knowing whether he’d slept with her best friend. She wanted to close her eyes to the whole affair and concentrate on what she had to do to fulfill her obligations today and in the days to come.

But when they nearly collided as she pushed her cart around a corner and down an aisle at Nature’s Way, a local, family-owned grocery store between Whiskey Creek and Jackson, she couldn’t turn and run in the other direction. That would make her envy and upset even more apparent. So she dredged up a smile and said hello before trying to circumvent him.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he asked, catching her by the elbow.

With an effort, she kept her expression innocent and friendly. “No fire. I’m just…” She struggled to invent an excuse for why she couldn’t take a second to talk to him on a Saturday morning. Obviously, she wasn’t working. And Presley was home with Anita or she wouldn’t be out. “You know…busy. Always busy.”

He studied her before responding. “Eve said the B and B’s closed today.”

“It is. But we’ll reopen after New Year’s. I’m overseeing some remodeling while she’s on the cruise.” The changes and repairs wouldn’t start until Monday. Maybe Eve had told him that, too, but Chey was grappling to fill the silence with something unrelated to the turmoil churning inside her.

“Too bad you can’t go with her. I’m sure you could use a vacation.” His voice was concerned. “How’s your mother?”

Miserable. Fading. Cheyenne wanted to tell him how much more complicated it was to watch someone die whom you resented. How guilt played a bigger role than sadness. How she sometimes longed for a release despite knowing that wishing her mother gone made her a terrible person.

But she hadn’t shared those realities with Eve or Presley or anyone. She was afraid of what they said about her, afraid she was even worse than Anita.

I’ve always loved you.
Had she
really?

“She’s hanging in there.”

He was studying her so intently, almost as if he was trying to peek beneath the polite mask she wore.

“It’s got to be tough.” His hand still rested on her arm. She knew he was just being sympathetic. He’d always known when she was having a difficult time. He could sense it, seemed to pay attention to more than most people noticed or cared about. Unfortunately, his touch made her yearn for contact of a different sort.

“Everyone has problems,” she insisted as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. But tears welled up, calling her a liar and embarrassing her so badly she jerked away and hurried around him.

* * *

“It was fun! He’s really easy to talk to, Chey. And so smart. And kind. And—” Eve twirled, sighing wistfully “—handsome. God, is he handsome. Those blue eyes held me riveted the entire night.”

Cheyenne was sitting on Eve’s bed while Eve packed for the cruise. At her friend’s request, she’d come over to say goodbye before the trip. She’d also brought a bikini and some costume jewelry Eve wanted to borrow. But the conversation had quickly turned to Eve’s date with Joe, as Cheyenne feared it would. That was all Eve could think about.

“I saw him at the grocery store this morning.” She wasn’t sure why she volunteered that. It was irrelevant, a moment she preferred to forget since it had ended so awkwardly. And yet that brief encounter, the memory of his hand clutching her arm and the caring expression on his face, had been on her mind all day.

Eve’s eyes lit with excitement. “Really? Did he say anything?”

“About you?”

“Or last night…”

Cheyenne fiddled with the strap of her purse. “No. I doubt he realizes I’m aware the two of you went out. And I didn’t think you’d want me to bring it up. But…you’re right, he’s a great guy. You two are perfect for each other.” Hadn’t she said so before? “How’d he like the dress?”

“He said I looked great.”

Chey had seen that for herself. “Do you want to wear it on the cruise?”

“No, I’ve got plenty of clothes for the trip. Go ahead and take it home so you have it while I’m gone.”

“How many outfits are you packing?”

Holding a pair of shorts that was supposed to go into her suitcase, Eve sank onto the bed. “I was hoping he’d kiss me. I
almost
leaned in to make sure he did, but chickened out at the last second.” She slanted a devilish grin at Cheyenne. “Maybe I should’ve gone for it.”

Eve hadn’t heard, let alone responded, to her question about the number of outfits. It had merely been Cheyenne’s attempt to divert her, anyway. Chey didn’t want to talk about this. It told her that Eve liked Joe more than ever and that last night had gone well. Maybe they hadn’t slept together, but Eve was bent on seeing him again, and Cheyenne couldn’t imagine any man rejecting a woman as beautiful, caring, sophisticated and intelligent as Eve.

“Wait for him to make a move. He will when he’s ready.” Was that her true opinion? Or only what served her best?

“Why is it always up to the guy?” Eve demanded. “What if
I
want to kiss
him?
” Her voice warmed. “What if I’d like to do even more?”

Cheyenne wished she could look away from her friend’s face, but she was afraid that might reveal how she felt. “Then…I guess you could let him know—if you want to take that risk.”

Eve’s scowl said she wasn’t particularly pleased with Chey’s response. “Do you think it would be a risk? Do you think he’d hesitate? I’ll bet he hasn’t been with a woman in ages. I can’t name one he’s dated since his divorce.”

“He doesn’t date women from Whiskey Creek. It’s too uncomfortable when things don’t work out. That’s the danger of seeing someone in your hometown, right? You run into them, and keep running into them, long afterward.” The same was true for falling in love with someone who didn’t love you back, she thought.

“I get that, but he has to miss sex.” She sighed. “I know I do. My last experience was with that guy I met because he stayed at the inn, who wound up being
married.
”

Cheyenne remembered what a smooth liar
he’d
been. He’d had a woman with him the first time he’d stayed, but he’d convinced Eve she was only his girlfriend and said they’d broken up. That part turned out to be true—but he still had a wife. “I have no idea how he’d respond if you tried to kiss him. I don’t know anything about his private life.”

Eve wasn’t really listening. She was too consumed by her own thoughts. “I almost wish I wasn’t leaving town. I mean…there’s your mother’s health. I should be here in case…you know, the worst happens. And now I’ve started a relationship with Joe that I have to walk away from for two whole weeks.” She pinched her bottom lip. “I should’ve held off until after the cruise to ask him out.”

“You were thinking if he turned you down, it would be easier to recover if you were gone, remember?”

She chuckled. “I remember. I should’ve had more confidence. If only I’d waited…”

“He won’t forget you that soon.” Cheyenne got off the bed to take the shorts and fold them herself. “Did he ask what you’re doing tonight?”

She hated herself for prying. She’d promised not to make matters worse by digging for information, especially information that would upset her, but she couldn’t help this one question. If last night had been so amazing, Joe could’ve invited Eve one more time before she left.

“He didn’t, but he talked about how much work it is to get ready for such a long trip, as if he was expecting me to be busy.”

“Anyone would expect that,” Cheyenne concurred, but she wasn’t convinced that two people who were really excited about each other would put off getting together just because of
packing,
especially when Eve had had all day.

Still, she had to admit there were a lot of reasons Joe could’ve decided not to ask Eve out. Maybe he had to work.

As Cheyenne put the shorts in the suitcase and began folding items Eve had yet to gather up. Eve stood and embraced her. “I’m going to miss you. You’ll be okay while I’m gone, won’t you? I hate that I’m leaving you in the lurch.”

“You’re not leaving me in the lurch. We’ve both known this was coming for months and months.”

“True, but…”

Cheyenne collected the dress she’d lent Eve. “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.” Part of her felt she’d be
better
off. She couldn’t handle what was happening between Eve and Joe while she felt so vulnerable because of her mother and sister. Two weeks of not having to pretend would give her a chance to get her feet underneath her again. “I’m happy for you. You deserve a vacation.”

“You deserve one, too.”

“I’ll take one someday.”

“We’ll track down your birth certificate and go to Europe together,” Eve promised.

“That’d be fun.” She draped the dress over one arm so she could fish her keys from the side pocket of her big bag. “I should head home. Presley has a date tonight.”

Eve frowned. “Why does she get to go out while you take care of Anita? You’re always stuck at home.”

“Someone offered to take Presley to a movie.” She wiggled her eyebrows for comedic effect. “I can’t say the same.”

“I can guarantee it’s no one she should be with,” Eve said.

That was probably true. But Cheyenne couldn’t tell her sister whom to date. It was hard enough encouraging her to stay clean and sober, not to mention employed. “Have a wonderful time,” she said, and took the gift she’d bought Eve out of the main compartment of her purse.

“What’s this?”

“A send-off.”

“Oh, my gosh! How sweet! Can I open it?”

“Of course. But don’t be fooled by the fancy wrapping. It’s just self-tanner,” she said with a laugh. “You’ll need it if you plan on wearing that bikini.”

“Sad but true.” Eve gave Cheyenne another brief hug. “Thank you. As usual, you’ve come up with the perfect gift.”

Cheyenne was almost out of the bedroom when Eve called her back. “Chey?”

“Hmm?” she said, turning.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You realize that, don’t you?”

For the first time in several days, Cheyenne felt good, or at least better. This was Eve. She could give up the man she loved for Eve, couldn’t she?

Of course. She’d do anything....

“I know.” With a smile and a wave she went home, telling herself that Joe was just one guy among many. Someday she’d find someone else who made her feel the way he did. She had to. Because she couldn’t,
wouldn’t,
put him before her best friend.

6

“H
ow’d it go last night?”

Joe looked up from the basketball game he’d been watching since he got home from work. His father had asked him about his date with Eve Harmon twice already—earlier today, when they were at the station. Joe had brushed aside the subject both times and didn’t have much to add now. “Fine.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say? It was fine?”

He returned his attention to the TV. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know… A little excitement maybe? Eve seems like a nice girl.”

She
was
a nice girl. Joe couldn’t argue with that.

“Do you think you’ll go out with her again?” A cabinet banged shut as Martin started dinner. When they were home together, they took turns doing the cooking. They had a few part-time employees at Whiskey Creek Gas-N-Go who helped out on nights and weekends. Since the station opened at six and closed at midnight seven days a week, they couldn’t man it every hour.

“Joe?” his father prompted when he didn’t answer.

Apparently, Martin wasn’t going to let this go. Using the remote, Joe lowered the volume on the Kings and Lakers. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Why not?” his father countered.

“You know how I feel about getting involved with someone from Whiskey Creek. I made that mistake when I got married.” He ran into Suzie’s family all over town—her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins. These people, whom he’d once loved as much as his own relatives, no longer spoke to him. They blamed him for the divorce and God knew what else, even though it was Suzie who’d cheated, Suzie who’d tried to pass off another man’s child as one of his.

Sometimes he wished he could tell the Petrovicks what Suzie had been like as a wife. He wanted to see the shock on their faces, especially her stodgy old father’s.

But he’d never say a word. Not even to Gail or Martin. He’d destroyed the results of the DNA test as soon as he received them in the mail. He’d never told Suzie that he knew. Summer meant as much to him as Josephine. If the truth got out, he stood to lose far more than he already had.

The lid to the trash can closed with a thump. “Then why’d you go out with her in the first place?”

Because she’d taken him off guard when she called and he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her. And, ideals or no, he needed some kind of diversion. Lately, he’d been so damn lonely, so dissatisfied. That didn’t exactly put him in a strength position when it came to turning down invitations.

“It was just dinner, Dad, not a date.” Eve had talked too much and tried too hard, and then she’d nearly tackled him at the door as he tried to leave. But he’d known he wasn’t interested in her when he said yes. That made the discomfort
his
fault.

“Right,” Martin said with a skeptical cackle.

Swallowing a frustrated sigh—he really didn’t want to be grilled about this—Joe turned up the volume. “It’s true. You’re making too big a deal out of it.”

His father raised his voice to compete with the sudden roar of the Laker fans. “You’re saying she just wants to be friends.”

He slouched lower so he could lean his head against the back of the couch. “Yeah.”

“That’s why she stops by to get gas almost every single day and spends fifteen minutes hanging around the minimart hoping to run into you.”

The frequency of Eve’s trips had given her away. Joe had guessed, long before she’d asked him out. She’d been hinting that she liked him for the past several months. But he couldn’t see himself in a romantic relationship with her, couldn’t see her as anything other than the chubby little girl with pigtails who’d played Barbies with Gail. “Give it a rest, okay?” he grumbled.

“You got to date somebody.”

“Who says?” Finally goaded into dealing with this, he hit the mute button. “
You
don’t date. You’ve lived without a partner for years.”

“Because I had you and Gail to worry about, and now I’m too old and ornery to get along with anyone.”

He hadn’t brought a woman home since Linda left him for her high school sweetheart. Joe had been thirteen when his mother walked out, Gail eight. They’d hardly seen her since. She was still with the same man and by all indications happy, but she wasn’t one who liked to look back.

“You don’t want to be alone for the rest of your life,” Martin said.

“How can you be so sure?” The first few years after his divorce, being alone hadn’t been so bad. It beat the hell out of trying to live with someone as high-strung and volatile as Suzie. He never wanted to go through any of that again. The fighting. The shock of some of the things she said. The betrayal he’d felt when he’d learned about her affair with their next-door neighbor. The sickness that had swamped him when he found out she’d brought the man he’d considered a friend, the man he’d been barbecuing burgers for on Saturdays, into his bed. The sense of failure that’d dragged him down when she finally kicked him out because he was only staying for the sake of the girls. The loss of no longer waking up in the same house as his children. It had been hell.

But his fear of getting involved in another bad relationship was quickly being offset by the downside of his current situation. He was tired of living with his father and sleeping alone. He hadn’t had sex with anyone since Deborah Hinz, the woman who’d come from Sacramento to sell him energy-conversation lighting for the exterior of the station eighteen months ago. Even that hadn’t been as enjoyable as it should’ve been. He’d thought there might be some potential there when she’d asked to meet him at a bar not far from where she lived. But when he woke up and realized he’d drunk too much and gone home with her, he beat a hasty retreat. Then he bought the lights she’d been hoping to sell him, even though his father insisted they could find them cheaper, to make up for not wanting to see her again.

“I just need to go to Sacramento or the Bay area more often,” he said, and hoped he was right, that getting out and meeting new people would fill the void.

His father’s voice was barely audible; he’d stuck his head into the refrigerator to get something out. “How will you meet someone in Sac or anywhere else? At a nightclub?”

“I guess I could join a church group, but doing it for the wrong reasons seems a bit deceptive, don’t you think?” The Lakers scored from at least five feet behind the three-point line. “Nice shot,” he muttered, and rewound the DVR so he could take another look at that bucket.

“You don’t need to leave Whiskey Creek,” his father said. “There are plenty of nice women right here.”

Martin didn’t want to lose both of his kids to other locations. “Like who?”

“Eve Harmon! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

He glanced over to see his father salting two pieces of fish, which he could smell from where he sat in the living room. “You want me to date one of Gail’s friends?”

“What’s so bad about that?”

He had to explain? “If things don’t work out, loyalty would force Gail to side with me, since I’m her brother, which could cost her one of her closest friends. That’s not fair.”

His father arranged the fish on the broiler and slid it into the oven. “You’re overthinking it.”

“How ironic.”

Apparently satisfied that he’d started dinner, Martin came to the living room doorway. “What’s ironic?”

Joe shot him a crooked grin. “Most dads tell their sons not to think with their dicks. Sounds like you’re saying just the opposite.”

“Most dads are talking to young boys. You’re thirty-six.”

“I left home once—and learned my lesson. Now you’re never getting rid of me.”

His father must’ve known he was only joking because he didn’t comment. He leaned against the wall, watching the game while they talked. “It’s time to get back in the saddle.”

“I’m not sure I’m willing to listen to your advice in this area, Dad.” He took a pull of his beer. “It’s a bit too much ‘do what I say and not what I do,’ don’t you think?”

When his father made no comment, Joe saluted him with the can. “You have nothing to say to that?”

“I guess you got me,” he replied, and went back into the kitchen.

With a chuckle, Joe shook his head. His father didn’t lose an argument very often. And he never acknowledged it when he did. “Listen, you can relax, okay? I’m fine. Quit worrying.”

“There has to be someone you find attractive,” his dad called back.

Cheyenne Christensen came to mind. But only because he hadn’t been able to forget her since he’d bumped into her at the grocery store earlier, he told himself. He’d known she was going through hell. It had to be hard watching a parent succumb to cancer. But she’d seemed more on edge than usual....

“You think Anita Christensen’s going to die soon?” he asked.

“Where’d that come from?” His father was digging around in the freezer. They were probably going to have frozen peas with the fish—a healthy enough choice but not a particularly exciting one. Predictable, boring, safe. That seemed to be the story of his life these days.

“I saw Cheyenne at Nature’s Way,” he explained. “When I picked up the milk and eggs.”

“What’d she have to say?”

Joe cursed when the Lakers went on a 6-0 run. “Not much. Just that she was fine.”

“So Anita’s hanging on.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Joe!” The surprise and reproof in his father’s voice demanded an explanation, if not a retraction.

“It doesn’t sound good to say it,” Joe admitted. “But Cheyenne and her sister would be better off.”

The stove ticked until a burner lit with the soft, distinctive
poof
of gas. Sure enough, Martin was putting some peas on to boil.

“Since when have you become so interested in the Christensen girls?” his father asked.

“I’m not,” Joe replied, but that wasn’t entirely true. Presley had never appealed to him. Physically, she was okay, even with all those tattoos. But she had a mouth more suited to a sailor and eyes that gazed out on the world with bitterness and suspicion. If there’d been a few warning signs he’d overlooked with Suzie, Presley came with neon flashers.

But there’d always been something about Cheyenne. His eyes followed her whenever they passed on the street. He couldn’t help turning around to catch a second glimpse of her when she came into the station. And this morning…he’d felt so protective when those tears welled up.

“Glad to hear it,” his father said. “Eve would be a much better bet.”

Joe propped his elbows on his knees. “What’s wrong with Cheyenne?”

“She’s had a hard life. If anyone has the right to carry excess baggage, it would be her. Just look at her sister.”

The way his father automatically dismissed Cheyenne bothered Joe. “She’s done well, considering what she’s been through. Like you said, it’s Presley who’s out of control. She propositioned me at the Sexy Sadie Saloon a few weeks ago.”

“How does a woman do that these days?”

“She said for twenty bucks she’d take me in the girls’ restroom and ‘blow my
mind.
’”

“I take it you declined.”

“I did—and that didn’t embarrass her in the slightest. She told me to go to hell and started scanning the bar for her next mark.”

“See what I mean?”

“Presley isn’t Chey,” Joe argued.

“Doesn’t matter. You marry the girl, you marry the family.”

He understood that concept only too well. But he was feeling contrary enough that his father’s disapproval pushed him further into Cheyenne’s camp. “It wouldn’t hurt to befriend her.”

“You’ve never paid much attention to her before.”

“She belongs to Gail’s group. And I’ve been busy.”

His father motioned at the clock. “You’re not busy tonight. Maybe after dinner you should take a bottle of wine and head over there.”

“Maybe I will.”

“She could probably use some company.”

“No doubt,” he said, rising to the challenge. But once he caught sight of his father’s grin, he realized that Martin had been manipulating him the whole time. “You think you’re so clever,” he complained.

“It’s not hard to lead someone right where they want to go,” he said with a laugh. Then he nearly drove Joe crazy whistling as he finished making dinner.

* * *

No one ever came to the house, unless it was one of J. T. Amos’s sons, looking for Presley. Sometimes Presley partied with them down at their place, which was a rambler along the river half a mile away. Since it was nearly eight o’clock on a Saturday night, Cheyenne felt confident it had to be one of them—confident enough that she wasn’t the least concerned about her appearance. She’d already scrubbed her face so she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She wasn’t wearing shoes, either—just a pair of holey jeans with a sweatshirt. She’d stand behind the door, tell Dylan, Aaron, Grady, Rodney or Mack that Presley was out for the evening, and be done with it.

But it wasn’t the Fearsome Five, as they were often called. Cheyenne couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Joe standing on her rickety porch. She hadn’t even realized he knew where she lived.

“Hey.” He offered her a grin that made her stomach flip-flop. “Looks like you’re in for the night.”

She resisted the urge to raise a self-conscious hand to her messy bun. Did her hair look as bad as she thought it might? She could feel wet tendrils clinging to her face. “Yes. I, um, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I mean, I can’t. Presley’s out. I have to stay with my mother.”

“That’s what I figured.” He lifted the bottle he carried in one hand. “Would you like to have a drink with me while you do your caretaker thing?”

She blinked several times before finding her voice. “Did you come to talk about Eve?”

“Eve?” he repeated.

“She’s crazy about you, you know. I’m sure you’ve guessed what with all the trips we’ve made to the gas station.” She laughed, hoping to appear less off balance. “And…she’s
so
great. You wouldn’t want to lose out on someone like her.”

A strange expression flitted across his face. “Thanks for the encouragement. I think she’s nice, too. But I’m not here to talk about Eve.”

He didn’t indicate whether or not her words had surprised him. Of course they hadn’t. He couldn’t have missed the way Eve kept singling him out. She wasn’t nearly as good at hiding her feelings as Cheyenne was. She’d never had to hide anything because she’d never really feared anything. Besides, she’d asked
him
out. That made her interest quite obvious.