When Snow Falls
The fact that Eve would, no doubt, provide a detailed recap of the evening added to the guilt that troubled Cheyenne. They shared everything. But Cheyenne wasn’t planning to ask about Joe. She hoped Eve would be so caught up in getting ready for the cruise that they wouldn’t have to talk about him. She couldn’t continue to pretend approval and support when each word Eve said cut like broken glass.
Besides, she didn’t want to see the man she loved through Eve’s eyes. She wanted to see him through her own. She’d memorized every encounter they’d ever had, every nuance of his expression, tone and body language. She was hoping that would help her determine whether or not he was excited about Eve or merely being polite. He was nice enough to accept a dinner invitation from just about any woman.
Cheyenne should know how kind he was. He’d always made her feel good, despite the unkempt way she’d looked when they first met or the number of guys in Whiskey Creek who wouldn’t date her in the early years. Although Chey had never slept with anyone—Joe was the only man she’d ever dreamed of touching in that way—Presley and Anita had gone to bed with any man who showed interest. The Christensens were barely one step above J. T. Amos’s clan, who were always fighting and going to jail or getting busted for dealing drugs. At least the people in Whiskey Creek had learned to differentiate between her and the rest of her family.
She’d been listening to the car radio to pass the time, but the noise made her nervous. Turning it off, she pulled down the tree-lined dirt road that led to the neighbors’ farm and stopped just beyond Eve’s house. From there she’d be able to tell when a car arrived. If she got out and stood hidden in the shrubs, she might even be able to ascertain what went on at the door.
Five minutes passed before she decided she couldn’t invade her friend’s privacy out of her own jealousy. Why would she betray the one person who’d brought some legitimacy to her life? Who’d convinced her that she could rise above her situation? Who’d made her whole in a way she’d never been whole before?
With a curse for her own weakness, she started up the Oldsmobile she’d bought from Henry Statham over in Jackson last Christmas and swung it around. But before she could drive out of the lane and onto the paved road, headlights appeared. A vehicle was cresting the hill.
Afraid it might be Joe and Eve and that they’d see her, Cheyenne backed up and switched off the car again. She had to remain hidden by the trees. The Olds was too distinctive; she couldn’t hope to drive by them and escape notice.
Sure enough, Chey recognized Joe’s white truck as it turned into Eve’s driveway, but she’d expected as much. Whiskey Creek was a small town of only two thousand. Not many people lived out here, in the country. With the older Harmons and their farmer neighbors asleep, it almost had to be Eve.
Curving her nails into her palms, Chey watched as the headlights went off. But when Joe and Eve climbed out, she made herself look away. What happened next was none of her business. She had no right to be sitting here, spying like some sort of obsessed weirdo. What kind of friend was she? Eve would make Joe a wonderful girlfriend, lover—even wife. He deserved the best, didn’t he?
She waited until they both went inside. Then, sick at heart because of what that might mean, she drove home. She needed some silence, some space.
Unfortunately, her mother called her the second she opened the door.
“Cheyenne? Is that you?”
“It’s me,” she called back, but hesitated in the small entry. She wasn’t sure she could make herself continue into the house. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see the reality of her mother’s condition, didn’t want to think about what was coming or when it might happen, didn’t want to take stock of the painkiller and know her sister had stolen more.
“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
Joe 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
“How’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?”