situation—
“Presley?” Anita called. “Where are you? Aren’t you going to turn on our show?”
It was Saturday. Their soap didn’t air on weekends, but the meds were making Anita’s brain so fuzzy she could no longer keep track of the days. Presley hated that as much as she hated everything else about what was happening. Her mother was no longer the strong, dominant personality she’d once been; she’d been reduced to a helpless stranger.
“Where are you?” Anita demanded.
Presley couldn’t bring herself to answer. She continued to lean on the kitchen counter, Crouch’s card in one hand, her thumb passing absently over the embossed lettering.
It didn’t give an actual address. She didn’t even know where he was from. New Mexico? Here? Somewhere else?
Regardless, there was enough information that she could contact him. Should she do it?
If not, she had to at least tell Chey what she suspected his business with them to be. Not telling would be unfair, almost as unfair as what Anita had done in the first place.
But what would Chey do when she found out they weren’t even related? That she was and always had been better than her mother and sister—as good as the group of friends she’d admired for so long?
Would she go back to her original family? Embrace what could have been?
If so, she wouldn’t want the one person who reminded her of everything she’d lost tagging along. Maybe she’d even begin to blame Presley. In a way, she had the right. It was Presley whose pleading for a playmate had instigated the events that had changed Cheyenne’s life. If not for Presley, Anita wouldn’t have bothered to take on a second child. Half the time she hadn’t wanted either one of them.
“ Presley! Why won’t you answer me?”
Anita’s voice had turned into a panicked sob. Presley had to go reassure her. But she wanted to make a decision on this first. Constantly dwelling on it, having Crouch’s card in her pocket, was driving her crazy.
She picked up her cell phone but couldn’t bring herself to dial. Cheyenne was the only person she had in the world, the only person, besides Anita, whom she loved. If the truth came out, Cheyenne would have no reason to stay with her. Resentment would eventually overtake any good feelings she had, and that would be the end of what they’d known as sisters. Presley was too realistic about her own shortcomings to believe she was the type of sibling Cheyenne would cling to.
Anita was dying. Soon, their mother would no longer have any effect on Cheyenne’s happiness. That meant Cheyenne didn’t need to know about Crouch or the years that had come before. It was too late to undo what had been done. Even worse, it might make Cheyenne more miserable to realize what Anita had stolen from her.
“Should I tell her, Mom?” Presley suddenly cried out.
Silence met this question. With all the medication, and considering that they hadn’t discussed Crouch since right after she’d met him, Presley thought her mother would ask what she was talking about.
But Anita didn’t need clarification. In a lucid moment, she called out, “You’re a fool if you do.”
Her mother was right, she decided. God help her but she couldn’t tell Chey. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then she took out her lighter and burned Crouch’s card in the sink.
9
C heyenne didn’t know what to make of her two hours with Joe, but the minute he dropped her off at her car and drove away, she felt instantly relieved. Nothing had happened.
She also felt terribly disappointed for the same reason. Which made no sense at all. She’d known they could only be friends; she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she let it go any further.
“So get over him,” she muttered, and got into her Oldsmobile. She still owed him a day of tree decorating with his girls, but doubted he’d collect. She’d convinced him to buy that damaged, ugly tree, and now he was on his own with it. Whatever had
“Presley?” Anita called. “Where are you? Aren’t you going to turn on our show?”
It was Saturday. Their soap didn’t air on weekends, but the meds were making Anita’s brain so fuzzy she could no longer keep track of the days. Presley hated that as much as she hated everything else about what was happening. Her mother was no longer the strong, dominant personality she’d once been; she’d been reduced to a helpless stranger.
“Where are you?” Anita demanded.
Presley couldn’t bring herself to answer. She continued to lean on the kitchen counter, Crouch’s card in one hand, her thumb passing absently over the embossed lettering.
It didn’t give an actual address. She didn’t even know where he was from. New Mexico? Here? Somewhere else?
Regardless, there was enough information that she could contact him. Should she do it?
If not, she had to at least tell Chey what she suspected his business with them to be. Not telling would be unfair, almost as unfair as what Anita had done in the first place.
But what would Chey do when she found out they weren’t even related? That she was and always had been better than her mother and sister—as good as the group of friends she’d admired for so long?
Would she go back to her original family? Embrace what could have been?
If so, she wouldn’t want the one person who reminded her of everything she’d lost tagging along. Maybe she’d even begin to blame Presley. In a way, she had the right. It was Presley whose pleading for a playmate had instigated the events that had changed Cheyenne’s life. If not for Presley, Anita wouldn’t have bothered to take on a second child. Half the time she hadn’t wanted either one of them.
“ Presley! Why won’t you answer me?”
Anita’s voice had turned into a panicked sob. Presley had to go reassure her. But she wanted to make a decision on this first. Constantly dwelling on it, having Crouch’s card in her pocket, was driving her crazy.
She picked up her cell phone but couldn’t bring herself to dial. Cheyenne was the only person she had in the world, the only person, besides Anita, whom she loved. If the truth came out, Cheyenne would have no reason to stay with her. Resentment would eventually overtake any good feelings she had, and that would be the end of what they’d known as sisters. Presley was too realistic about her own shortcomings to believe she was the type of sibling Cheyenne would cling to.
Anita was dying. Soon, their mother would no longer have any effect on Cheyenne’s happiness. That meant Cheyenne didn’t need to know about Crouch or the years that had come before. It was too late to undo what had been done. Even worse, it might make Cheyenne more miserable to realize what Anita had stolen from her.
“Should I tell her, Mom?” Presley suddenly cried out.
Silence met this question. With all the medication, and considering that they hadn’t discussed Crouch since right after she’d met him, Presley thought her mother would ask what she was talking about.
But Anita didn’t need clarification. In a lucid moment, she called out, “You’re a fool if you do.”
Her mother was right, she decided. God help her but she couldn’t tell Chey. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then she took out her lighter and burned Crouch’s card in the sink.
9
C heyenne didn’t know what to make of her two hours with Joe, but the minute he dropped her off at her car and drove away, she felt instantly relieved. Nothing had happened.
She also felt terribly disappointed for the same reason. Which made no sense at all. She’d known they could only be friends; she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she let it go any further.
“So get over him,” she muttered, and got into her Oldsmobile. She still owed him a day of tree decorating with his girls, but doubted he’d collect. She’d convinced him to buy that damaged, ugly tree, and now he was on his own with it. Whatever had
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