Battle of the Bulbs (Holidays in Willow Valley Book 1)

by Shannyn Leah

  “I don’t deserve you,” Booker said. “I can’t even believe how strong you are and I walked away.”

  He pulled away to stand again. He needed to walk, but Cheyenne grabbed his arm. “One person’s struggle doesn’t make them better than another person.”

  Did she have a comeback for everything?

  “You are a part of my rainbow,” she said. “Each rainbow has more than one color and whenever there’s good in my life, that part gets added to my rainbow.” She laughed. “I know, I sound crazy.”

  “You sound incredible.

  “I left Grandma and Willow Valley to go to Oakston where I felt safe even with nothing. I was young and alone. I stole, got arrested…it was bad.”

  “I can’t imagine you as bad.”

  “Picture a skinny little teenager with hair past her rear and rips in her jeans. Plus, a bit of an attitude, and a really good runner.”

  He laughed then. “I enjoy a good run.”

  “I know,” she teased.

  “I mean in the gym. I don’t plan on ever running from you again, but maybe one day you will run with me.”

  “I would like that. I’ll beat you.”

  He laughed again and she clamped her hand over his mouth. “People are sleeping,” she hissed. “Can you stop interrupting me so I can finish this story and lose the blanket between us?”

  Booker tugged at her blanket, but she held it firmly in place. “Keep your hands to yourself until I’m finished.”

  He held his hands up in defeat, but once again brushed her hair, then ran his hand along her blanket-wrapped shoulder and settled slipping in the opening to touch her legs.

  “The day I saw the first sign of my rainbow was the day I met Alice. Without her I wouldn’t have the Lilith house.”

  “And without you, those who stay there wouldn’t have the Lilith house. Don’t walk away from the house because of your past. Embrace it, instead. Listen to my mother, do as she says and you’ll be fine.”

  “Booker?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you get rid of this blanket?”

  “That’s it? You’re done?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Gladly.” He ripped the blanket away, wrapped his arm behind her and lowered her back against the mattress. Kissing her, he settled between her legs. “Cheyenne I will never let anyone hurt you again.”

  “I know.” When her breathing fell into perfect harmony again and he knew she’d fallen asleep, he closed his eyes. Tomorrow was a new day. He just didn’t know how he wasn’t going to hurt someone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE NEXT DAY at the hospital they were happy to find Millie awake, stable and even smiling. The doctor wanted to keep her in the hospital for observation, but was optimist she would be good to go home in two days. Just in time for Christmas.

  After their visit, Booker drove Eddie, Cheyenne and Lily home. Lily took out her key to open the door, but it was already open a crack. She sent the crew a curious look and Cheyenne instantly had a bad feeling well up in her stomach.

  She felt her world tilt as they walked into the house. It had been ransacked. Drawers were pulled out with the contents strewn across the room. The Christmas decorations had been knocked on the floor. Some were okay while others had broken.

  “Aunt Karen?” Lily called, stepping over the jackets piled up outside the closet.

  “She’s not here,” Cheyenne said, knowing exactly what had happened and who had done it.

  Eddie moved to the fireplace. “Ellen.” His saddened voice clenched Cheyenne’s heart.

  Booker was at his grandfather’s side in time to catch him as he fell to his knees beside the pile of ashes left on the floor.

  Cheyenne’s stomach lurched. Karen and her new boyfriend had stolen Ellen’s urn, dumping her remains on the floor. What kind of person did that? Cheyenne knew. The same kind who wished their children dead.

  “Grandpa, it’s okay,” Booker said.

  “I’ll get a broom,” Lily offered, playing hopscotch over the damage.

  “Ellen…” Eddie’s heartbroken tone followed Cheyenne down the hall. Each step she took toward the bathroom blurred as tears and dizziness mixed together. She made it to the toilet in time to be sick.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  She rinsed her mouth with water and sat on the floor.

  Why did everything around her always fall apart?

  Whenever her life moved in the right direction, when she felt happy and safe, trouble chased her down, found her and paved a path of heartache for not only her but the people around her. First the Lilith House and now Eddie. She was like a disease.

  She didn’t know how long she sat on the bathroom floor mulling over her life when Booker rapped on the door. “Cheyenne?”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and swallowed down the thickening bile. “Just a minute.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Cheyenne stood, leaning her back against the door. She closed her eyes and felt the anger building up inside her, coiling and curling around the peace she’d felt just two hours earlier. She was going to chase her mother down and make that woman understand she was finished putting her, Millie and everyone around them through hell. It would end today.

  ***

  CHEYENNE HAD BEEN in the bathroom for almost an hour. Booker kept an eye on the hall while cleaning up Eddie’s side of the house. He’d give her space, but worry pitted deep in his gut. Lily had tackled Millie’s side of the house, filling garbage bags, vacuuming, and cursing the entire time. Eddie rested in his bed with Ellen’s ashes in a temporary jar with him.

  Finally, the bathroom door opened and Booker set down the box of glass he’d accumulated and headed to Millie’s side.

  Cheyenne passed by him, coat and boots still on, and grabbed a set of keys from the side table. Her puffy face was tear-stained, her eyes bloodshot and pink colored her cheeks.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To get your grandmother’s urn back.” Her unyielding determination was exactly what he loved about her. But after last night he didn’t think Cheyenne chasing Karen down would end well.

  “It’s just an urn. We don’t need that one. We’ll buy a new one.”

  “No. She doesn’t get to keep it. We were hospitable and she took advantage of us.”

  He touched her arm. “Cheyenne.”

  She jerked away. “This is between me and my mother.”

  Booker couldn’t see winning this fight and he breathed gratefulness at the knock on the door. He reached it before Cheyenne.

  “Good evening Booker.” Officer Crawfield removed his hat and gave a curt nod.

  “Sam.” Booker’s eyes lowered to the familiar container in the man’s hands—his grandmother’s urn.

  “Listen, I was never here,” he said, in a low tone. “There was a fatal accident outside of town and we found our break and enter vigilantes.”

  A fatal accident? Karen and her boyfriend?

  “Their vehicle was packed full of stolen goods which I’m delivering into evidence now,” Sam continued, holding the urn out to Booker. “I recognized this from supper with your grandfather. It’s empty.”

  “The ashes are here,” Booker said, taking the urn.

  Sam held onto the urn as he looked past Booker at the mess they were working on cleaning. “Did you report a break and enter?”

  Booker purposely kept his back facing Cheyenne, feeling her burning stare boring through him. “The accident,” he said, lowering his tone. “Were there any survivors?”

  Sam’s face saddened and he shook his head. “Unofficially, no. A man and woman were involved in a single car crash and both are dead. There was no ID on them.”

  Cheyenne moved beside Booker. “Take me to them,” she said. “I can ID at least one for you.”

  She walked past them both and out the door. Sam watched and then sent Booker a confused look.

>   “Her mother and boyfriend spent the night here,” Booker explained. “I think her mother’s known for taking things without asking.”

  “Awe shit,” the officer said. “Are you coming down too?”

  “Yes. Let me grab my coat.”

  ***

  CHEYENNE HADN’T BEEN sure what to expect when identifying her mother’s dead corpse. A morgue, she supposed, like in the movies. Cold. Sterile. Lonely…alone. All the feelings captured her current sensations. The chief medical examiner had led her into a comfortable sitting room and explained what she was about to see. She was about to see her dead mother. She’d already prepared herself and nothing this man could say would change that she knew, without a doubt, that her mother hadn’t only ransacked Millie and Eddie’s house but had been responsible for the entire town’s break-ins.

  Booker sat beside her, holding her hand. She hadn’t asked him to come. He should be at home sweeping the remainder of his grandmother off the floor and helping his grandfather deal with the disaster her mother left, not standing here with Cheyenne and the problems that chased at her feet.

  “Yes. That’s her,” she said, when the man finally flipped over the photograph. She stared at her mother’s face.

  Should she feel the relief creeping through her veins? Should she be thankful Karen had died and not her? Because she was. Lord, she was awful. She was the bottom of the barrel. She was the ungrateful daughter Karen had accused her of being.

  The man apologized for her loss with no idea of Cheyenne’s inner thoughts. A battle of good and bad wagering inside her like heaven and hell and she was lost somewhere in the middle. But hadn’t she always been?

  Booker’s palm burned through the back of her blouse as they walked down the hall. A reminder of the happiness he offered to her. Could she be happy now? Could she move on from this drama and not be afraid of her mother showing up on her doorstep?

  The drive to Millie’s house was quiet. Booker’s words were deaf in her ears—his concern suffocating her.

  Outside the house, she stepped away from him. “This is always going to be me.”

  “It’s been a long couple of days,” Booker said. “Let’s go inside and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “My mother just died.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Everything I touch wilts away like a flower. Everything I said to you yesterday was a lie. I was afraid, terrified. I’ve always been afraid and while I tell people to face their fears, move past them, I hide behind mine like the seven-year-old who watched my sister leave. I didn’t even get to go to her funeral. My mom kept me locked in the house. Now I’ll have to go to my mother’s funeral, but I’m relieved she’s dead.” Cheyenne sighed. “It’s like this weight’s been lifted. Now what do you think of me?”

  “I think this has all been too much for you. I think you’re human and it’s natural to feel good when you’re no longer scared.” He reached for her and she stepped back.

  “Don’t. My mother dumped your grandmother’s ashes on the floor and you abandoned Eddie, your grandfather, for me. He needed you.”

  “You needed me more.”

  “I don’t need anyone.”

  “I wanted to be there. We all have skeletons in our closet. You helped me heal from mine; let me help you.”

  Her tone was as cold as the ice they stood on. “My mom is dead. I don’t need your protection anymore. I don’t want it. For the first time in my life I’m free and I can’t be chained down by you.”

  “Cheyenne, don’t push me away.”

  “I’m giving you a door to run.”

  “I don’t want to run.”

  “Fine. Stay behind, because I’m running as far away from you as I can.” She walked past him and he gripped her arm to stop her.

  “When you’re done running, you come find me. I’ll be waiting. I will always wait for you.”

  She hoped not.

  As she stepped into Millie’s house, she saw the hole in the wall and could have screamed. Instead, she headed to the linen closet for a sheet to hang.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A PLATTER OF COOKIES awaited Cheyenne’s midnight stroll down the stairs for the next three evenings. Anticipating and finding the cookies Booker left for her each night triggered a pang of doubt in Cheyenne’s mind. She hadn’t touched the delectable treats. Not once.

  Before Millie had returned home today, Eddie had yanked the sheet Cheyenne hung from the hole and wandered over to their side at his leisure. Booker had kept his distance, making it easier to stand by her decision. But when darkness rolled over the house and she sat on the stairs each night staring at the waiting cookies, her resolve had begun to weaken.

  After a long discussion with her grandmother, they had decided to cremate Karen. Millie had also insisted Cheyenne take her mother’s remains home with her.

  Now, her bags were packed in the trunk and her insides full of regret for leaving, but she knew this was the best for Booker. Cheyenne rolled to a stop at a sign on the edge of town and glanced down at the urn sitting in the passenger’s seat. She didn’t want her mother, or the reminder of her, in her home.

  Turning off the main road, Cheyenne drove to Willow Valley’s overlook cliff and parked. Sauntering to the edge, her eyes never left the urn. She’d never envisioned her holiday ending this way standing alone on a cliff holding the remains of her mother in her hands. Karen had been a woman she’d despised, feared and loved in a way no one could understand. Cheyenne would rather be standing back on Millie’s street where they were awarding the best decorated house this morning. And as much as Cheyenne wanted to stay another day and night, celebrate a real Christmas with her family in the morning, living beside Booker was killing her.

  She stepped to the edge of the cliff and opened the pewter urn her mother didn’t deserve. Taking a deep breath, she scattered the ashes and they danced along with the fluttering snowflakes. It was too beautiful for the soulless woman her mother had been.

  Watching the remnants of her mother’s life vanish into the sky saddened Cheyenne. She wiped away the tears from her cheek, unsure why such emotions existed after a life of destitution. But right now, at that very moment, Cheyenne wasn’t thinking about the physical and mental abuse, or the years of fear she’d been forced to live with. Cheyenne saw the up side to her hard life. Time spent laughing with her sister, the Lilith House and all the girls who benefited from it, and the amazing person Lily had become.

  Thoughts of Booker merged with her happy thoughts, and she realized she was to blame for losing him. She could never pin the blame on Karen. As she recalled all the hardships in her life, she realized that walking away from Booker had been the most painful.

  She looked up at the sunset over the lake—a beautiful array of pink, orange and purple colors. Today, the sunset was her rainbow and she wouldn’t lose Booker. Not now, not ever. She planned on waking up Christmas morning in his arms, just as she’d been dreaming about.

  Throwing the urn in the passenger’s seat, Cheyenne spun down the road back to Willow Valley to fix the biggest mistake of her life. All she needed was a box and some wrapping paper.

  ***

  “AND THIS YEARS winner of our street contest is…” Megan paused, sending an anticipation through the crowd before finally saying, “House number fifty-eight!”

  Applause and cheers came from both Millie and Eddie’s driveways where the residents of the street stood bundled in their winter’s best, waiting for the announcement.

  Booker clapped Eddie’s back and kissed Millie’s cheek while Megan carried the winning banner to them.

  “Wait a minute,” Millie said, not accepting the award. Eddie followed suit, folding his arms across his chest. Both of them eyed up the ribbon, looking unimpressed.

  “Who won?” Millie asked.

  Megan’s smile fell. “You both won.”

  “How did we both win?” Eddie barked. “There’s only one prize.”

  “It’s a banner
from the dollar store,” Megan said. “Besides, we heard you two are a couple now.”

  Millie and Eddie huffed at the same time.

  “One award,” Millie said.

  “One side,” Eddie said.

  “Pick a side,” they said in unison.

  “We would have to recount the votes,” Megan said.

  “We have all night,” Eddie said.

  Booker waved as the crowd thinned.

  “It’s Christmas Eve.” Megan’s gritted tone sounded like Eddie had hit her last nerve. “People want to spend time with their family, not recount votes. Take the award.” She shoved it toward them but neither moved.

  “I’ll go buy another one.” Booker took the ribbon and thanked Megan.

  “Let’s get you inside, Grandma.” Lily began to usher her back toward the house.

  Megan made her way down the driveway before turning and saying, “Hey Booker, we’ve decided to buy a snow blower.”

  “He’s not single,” Eddie barked at her. “Stop honing in on a taken man.”

  “Grandpa!”

  Megan shook her head. “Derek will email you the cost difference,” she said. “Merry Christmas!”

  Booker glared at Eddie.

  “Who’s Derek?”

  “Megan’s husband. Your handy man. You pay him to clear the snow from your driveway and cut the lawn in the summer.”

  “Hmm.” Eddie shrugged, following Lily and Millie into the house.

  Clutching the ribbon, Booker headed to the truck. Truthfully, he didn’t mind a break from the house and the memories of Cheyenne lurking around every corner.

  ***

  “I NEED ANOTHER ribbon exactly the same as this one,” Booker said to the young store employee. “And there are no more on the shelf.”

  Her eyebrows shot in the air. “Sir, we are closing in less than five minutes.”