“This way.”
She followed Maria through the empty lobby to one of the examination rooms in back, where she saw Presley curled up on her side, sleeping.
“Your sister is here,” Maria said, shaking her gently.
Presley awoke with a start, then pushed herself into a sitting position, but that was as far as she got before Cheyenne pulled her into an embrace.
“Thank God,” she breathed as Maria left to give them some privacy. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m sorry, Chey,” she said. “I should’ve told you from the beginning. I should’ve told you about Crouch.”
What Presley had confessed on the phone earlier hadn’t been the shock Presley assumed it would be. “It’s okay,” she said. “I can see why you were scared.”
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
“I know.”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’m going to get clean. I’m going to change my life.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.” She drew back to look at her sister’s injuries. “Who did this to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Cheyenne decided to let it go. Presley was safe now. That was all that mattered. “Fine. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Even what happened the night Mom died.”
Confusion created lines in Presley’s forehead. “What are you talking about?”
Cheyenne swallowed hard. She didn’t want to address this so soon, but they had to get past it. “I saw the pillow, Presley. I saw the blood. And I understand why you might have—”
“Wait.” She grabbed Cheyenne’s hand. “You think I killed Mom?”
“You didn’t?”
“No! She…she begged me to. She was in so much pain. She said if I loved her I’d put her out of her misery. And I tried. But…when I couldn’t leave the pillow on her face for more than two seconds, she got up, swearing and angry, and knocked over the lamp. Then she—” tears caught in Presley’s lashes “—fell back. And that was it. She was gone.”
Relief surged through Cheyenne. Could this be true? It had to be. Why would Presley lie about the night Anita had died after telling her the truth about the private investigator? She had as much reason or more to continue lying about Crouch. “Then why did you run away?”
“Sandra Morton at the Gas-N-Go told me that someone named Crouch came by, asking about you. I couldn’t stand the thought that Mom was dead and, because of him, because he wouldn’t go away, I was going to lose you, too. More than anything, I didn’t want you to know I was the reason you didn’t have that other family you’ve always wanted.”
Then there was the baby. Cheyenne smoothed her blouse as she glanced around them. “I see. And…I’m guessing you were pregnant.”
Presley nodded.
“But you’ve—” she cleared her throat “—taken care of that?” This was delicate territory, something Cheyenne didn’t even want to think about. So she couldn’t blame her sister for not answering.
“I’m going to move to Sacramento, Chey. Start over.”
“You’re willing to leave Whiskey Creek?”
“I have to. I don’t want to fall in with the same people. Especially Aaron. He has too strong a hold on me.”
Cheyenne tried to imagine her sister living elsewhere. It could work, if she was really ready and willing to give up drugs. “Sacramento isn’t that far. Or the Bay Area. We’d get to see each other anytime we wanted. We’ll make it work. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Rehab first,” she announced.
Cheyenne agreed with that, too, but she felt duty-bound to tell Presley about Aaron. “Aaron is already in rehab. He just went in. To a new facility south of Sacramento.”
“There’s more than one place to get help. I’ll go to the Bay Area.”
Cheyenne couldn’t believe her sister suddenly had so much resolution, that she was willing to make the sacrifices it would take to build a better life, but she didn’t want to sound skeptical so she didn’t question Presley further. “Let’s get you home.”
Once Maria heard them in the hallway, she came back to show them out. “Do not forget to take your prenatal vitamins,” she cautioned Presley, wagging a finger at her as they stepped outside.
The receptionist’s words made Cheyenne’s heart skip a beat. “You’re still pregnant?” she whispered as soon as they were alone.
Presley’s chin came up. “I’m keeping the baby, Chey. I want this child.”
Conscious of Dylan, who’d spotted them and was driving across the lot to pick them up, she lowered her voice even more. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I’m not telling anyone.”
“Not even Aaron?”
“Especially not Aaron. He’s not ready. But I am. I need this—someone else to love, some reason to take care of myself and contribute to life.”
“He has a right to know, Presley.” If it was his child… Cheyenne supposed there was that small question.
Presley shook her head. “I don’t care. This is the only thing I have, and I’m going to do everything in my power to protect it.”
Cheyenne would’ve argued further, except that her sister was right in at least one respect. Aaron wasn’t ready. And, if Presley had gone through with the abortion, there wouldn’t be a baby to fight over. “You have to tell him someday, don’t you?”
“Maybe, when I think it’s safe.”
They said nothing more. They couldn’t. Dylan was getting out to hug Presley.
* * *
“I can’t believe you’re with Dylan,” Presley said. It was late but they were both awake, lying in Cheyenne’s bed with Lucky, Cheyenne’s new puppy. It had taken them two days to get back from Phoenix, so this was Presley’s first night at home without her mother. It felt strange, especially with the dark memories of Anita’s final night, when she’d demanded that Presley finish her off.
“I’m in love with him,” Cheyenne said simply.
Presley experienced a twinge of jealousy. She so desperately wanted that same relationship with Aaron. But she’d given him up, traded him for his baby. In her mind, it was better to take the sure thing. For a child, her child and his child, she could get clean. “You deserve him,” she said when she’d mastered her emotions enough to say the words.