When Snow Falls

“That’s when. But we should pick up the tree tomorrow, before all the good ones are gone.”

“We?” She corked the wine bottle since he’d declined a refill.

“I don’t want to buy something you wouldn’t be interested in decorating.”

Eve would, no doubt, find this arrangement odd if she heard about it. That made Cheyenne hesitate. As much as she wanted to spend time with Joe, she had no business doing it. “I’m easy to please.”

“Then why don’t you ever date?”

She shuffled the cards. “Nice segue.”

“I thought so.”

“How do you know I don’t?”

“We live in Whiskey Creek, remember? If you were seeing someone, I’d know about it. Everyone would.”

That was true. So she began searching for excuses. “I’ve been too preoccupied.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

She tried not to laugh. “I was seeing John Kovinski there for a little bit.”

“Not Mr. Kovinski, the school principal…”

“’Fraid so.”

“When was this?”

She pretended she had to think about it, although the answer was on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t see any point in letting him know that she marked the events in her life by how they corresponded to his. “While you were married.” She forced herself to throw in, “I think,” even though she was as positive as she could get.

“That was five years ago!”

“I don’t get out much.”

“Not to mention he’s like…twice your age,” he added with a grimace. “Gail once dated a much older man, too. What’s the appeal?”

“Safety. Security. Companionship.”

“So no threat.”

She chuckled. “Maybe.”

“I must’ve missed the news that you were seeing him.”

Because the relationship hadn’t gone anywhere. They’d dated three times, and made out once. That wasn’t much for even the nosiest people in Whiskey Creek to gossip about.

Joe finished the last of the wine in his glass. “Who else have you dated?”

She put the cards back in the box. “I’ve been preoccupied, like I said. Who have you dated, Mr. DeMarco?”

“Too many girls to count,” he teased.

“Who’s there?” Her mother’s voice, cracked and pleading, came out of the bedroom. “I need my meds! Cheyenne? Presley? Bring me my morphine! Hurry!”

Joe jumped to his feet as if this sudden intrusion into their conversation had startled him. “She okay?”

The distress in her voice could be more than a little unnerving, especially for someone who wasn’t used to it. “Yeah. Don’t worry.”

“Is there anything I can help you do for her?”

“No, I’ve got it.” She took her mother’s painkiller from where she’d hidden it behind the refrigerator.

“That’s where you keep it?” he asked with a perplexed expression.

Because of Presley. But she didn’t want to go into that. “For the moment.”

“Okay.” He didn’t question her further. “I’ll put out the fire while you tend to her.”

She’d expected him to leave. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he felt now that Anita was awake. But her mother was so impatient she had to postpone their goodbye and he seemed willing to wait. “Calm down, Mom, I’m coming!” she called, grabbing a bottle of water in case Anita was thirsty.

“Where’s Presley?” her mother asked as soon as Cheyenne reached her bedside.

“On a date.”

“I heard two voices.”

Cheyenne ignored her obvious disappointment. “She’s not home.”

“Someone’s here!”

“I am,” Cheyenne insisted.

“Besides you.”

“No. No one.” She didn’t want her mother interacting with Joe. That he’d seen her situation at home was bad enough.

“I need to be moved. I can’t—” Anita gasped for breath “—if you could slide me over a bit and…turn me on my other side. My hip is aching.”

Cheyenne tried to do what she’d been asked, but her mother cried out. “You have to pick me up! You can’t shove me!” she shouted, then started moaning and weeping.

Afraid that Joe would hear, Cheyenne lowered her voice. “I wasn’t shoving. I was doing it the way I always do.” The only way she knew how. She wasn’t strong enough to lift Anita as easily as Anita wanted.

“Presley, come help your sister!” her mother called. “Hurry! She’s killing me!”

“Presley’s not home.”

“Yes, she is. I heard her. Presley?”