Cheyenne (4 page)

“
Have I ever told you how good you smell?” he asked.

I took a few steps back. His face was soft and sincere. He wasn’t teasing.

“
Thank you,” I managed to mumble as I went back to the rock. I fumbled with the charcoal between my fingers and didn’t look up. I flipped my sketchpad open and froze as I gazed at him. His icy blues locked on mine, and it took every effort within me to begin my drawing.

I tried to put down on paper what was before me, the shape of his face, how angular his jaw was, and the perfect placement of his eyes. A gentle breeze blew, causing a wisp of his blonde hair to fall across his forehead. I had a sudden urge to push it back with my fingers. I needed to move on; I had a drawing to finish. I didn’t need to get caught up in this emotion—it was just a wisp of hair.
Keep your mind focused,
I told myself.
Focus…

As I traced the outline of his broad shoulders, the image began to emerge on paper. Colt’s t-shirt was snug across his chest. He shifted slightly, and I watched his muscles flex. I tried to refocus. He had his legs stretched out before him, long and well defined. The weather was warm, and his shorts revealed more than enough of his tanned legs. His skin was already golden from the sun.

“
You know,” Colt said playfully, “you’re going to have to start working on your tan. I’ve already got you beat for color so far.” He winked, and I fought to remain focused on my work, at least as best as I could under the circumstances.

“
Yeah, well some of us go to school and work on homework.” I knew Colt was with me every day and in almost every class. However, he never seemed to work on homework like I did. “I don’t have the luxury of lying around in the sun all day.”

He chuckled and I continued. We both knew that I was only a shade or two lighter and would soon pass him if I worked on it.

I wiggled my bare toes in the warmth of the sun. The grass was soft and inviting; I slid down further to sit. The pine trees swayed slightly as the breeze picked up. I brushed the hair away from my lashes, as it tickled my nose and cheek. I looked up and saw the dark storm clouds approaching. I sighed and added my finishing touches.

“
Okay, you’re done for now. We can wait until later to do the inside pose.” I closed my sketchbook and saw Colt’s outstretched hand. He helped pull me up, and we entered the house just before the rain hit.

The winds began to blow, and the rain pelted the ground as we made it to the cover of the porch.

“
We can do it now,” he offered as he opened the door and we walked in. He turned, lifting his fingers to my cheek. My heart lurched to a stop. The way he was looking at me stopped me cold. “You have black charcoal all over your cheek and nose, Cheyenne.” He used his thumb to brush it away.

“
Thanks,” I muttered and waited until he was done.

“
Where do you want me?” He grinned.

“
On the couch. You can watch TV or read or whatever you want to do. I’m going to sit on the stairs.” I sat on the wooden landing. Plopping down into the couch, Colt picked up a magazine and began reading. At least he wasn’t staring at me. The winds slowed, but a light rain continued.

I sketched out his features and the surrounding area. I tried to do it as quickly as possible, and even though I didn’t want to study him as intently as I had outside, my heart fluttered. I finished and walked towards him. He extended his hand and took the book.

“
Let’s see what you’ve done.”

I was by no means an artist. I could draw a passable portrait but the second half of the assignment was to create a more modern piece.

“
Is this what you think I look like?” he cackled. “Cause if so, I’ll be scheduling some plastic surgery.”

I yanked the book away from his hands. His eyes danced with mischief. “It’s abstract,” I said in annoyance. “It’s not supposed to be perfect. Besides, I never said I was an artist. I only took the class because I needed the credits.”

“
Well, it’s a good thing, because if you had paid for the course, I would tell you that you needed to ask for a refund,” his laughter was growing and soon, so was mine.

“
You’re horrible!”

“
I know,” he said as he grabbed for my arms and hugged me. He gave me a peck on the cheek. “I got you laughing though.”

I sighed. “Yes, you did…thank you.”

Chapter 3

Without my approval, life without my parents continued, and soon graduation was upon us. I really didn’t want to attend. I had no one to invite, and that fact itself brought up painful thoughts too easily. Colt had managed to get me there, but I was still protesting.

“
Colt, I don’t want to go,” I said with determination.

“
You’ll be fine,” he replied gently. “They’re letting me walk with you so you’re not alone.”

“
I don’t want to be the only one whose name is called and it remains silent. I have no family in the crowd to clap and cheer like they do for everyone else. Besides, who really needs to see me get my diploma? Anyone who was important in my life can’t be here.” I stared at the freshly waxed gym floor. It was becoming easier not to cry.

“
Maybe I want to see you walk. Maybe you’re doing this for me, instead of you.” I made the mistake of looking up, and I saw the firm resolve in his baby blue eyes. I knew I wouldn’t get out of it. “Do it for me, Cheyenne. It’s important.” I had no choice but to give in.

I lowered my head again. “Just don’t expect me to go to any parties.” I knew he had received several invitations; I only received them because of my acquaintance with him.

“
Thank you,” I said quietly. He drew me into a hug, and I found security in the warmth of his strong arms.

After graduation, Colt forced me to follow him around as we found our friends and wished them luck. They took the time to ask me about my future plans, and I tried to answer as best I could, but I really hadn’t thought that far ahead. I was supposed to be traveling with my parents, but then the accident happened. I was merely surviving, and the thought of leaving and going someplace where Colt wouldn’t be around was unsettling. I was trying to distance myself, but it wasn’t easy.

Colt walked me to the car and placed his arm around my shoulder, making me feel slight and small. “How about if I take you out to dinner? We could catch a movie afterwards,” he thoughtfully asked, knowing what an especially hard day I’d had.

“
I appreciate the offer, but I think that I need to go home and be alone.”

Sympathy creased his brow. “I understand. If you change your mind, call me.”

“
I will,” I promised.

As I drove home, my thoughts turned to Colt. The way he made me smile, bringing happiness to my day. He would catch me twirling my ring on my index finger and running my fingers over the etched design. Most times, he would stop me by putting his hand over mine and running his finger over it instead. He would urge me to vent my feelings and try to calm me when I got worked up. We both knew he couldn’t solve all my problems—there was nothing he could do to bring my parents back—but his comfort helped take the edge off and make each day bearable.

The wind blew my hair around, and immediately I thought of my mom. She loved my long, blonde, wavy hair. She said it looked like the sun kissed it during the summer months. I would get naturally lighter highlights running from my crown to the tips. She told me the curls and waves made her think of finger curls. That was what they used to call it when she was a child. It made me smile.

I came home to an empty house, but the solitude was what I wanted. It was what I needed. So much had changed, and I needed to sort through my feelings. Colt had done an excellent job of not letting me be alone and not letting my thoughts wander too far. It was time to face them; school was over, and I wouldn’t have that distraction anymore. I had to deal with the new reality of my life head on. I needed to move forward.

Sitting in the living room, I stared at the piano. My parents loved to hear me play. I cherished my music—I needed to play to release my never-ending stream of thoughts. I pushed myself up, and sat on the bench with my hands shaking as I looked at the keyboard.

I gazed at the ring on my right index finger. It was the ring my mom had given me when I was about six years old. I always wore it. It was funny, I realized only now, that it had never been resized. It remained on the same hand and same finger and yet continued to fit perfectly.

I allowed my thumb to drift over it, feeling each curve and every etched symbol. Closing my eyes, I let my music begin to fill my mind. It was never anything else but what I created, at the moment I needed it. My music would take me to my happy place, a safe place. It would help me find some peace.

The music flowed softly, and I allowed it to glide over my heart. I caressed each shattered piece with the love that I knew my parents had for me. In my mind, I saw the notes mingle in the air. They were flowing over my thoughts as I began to replay the memories of my life with my mom and dad. As I played, I realized my friendship with Colt was somehow intertwined.

I had never known my biological parents; they had died when I was born. It was something we never talked about, but I had always wondered about them. My adoptive parents loved me and cared for me as if I was their own. They were devoted, kind, and thoughtful. They always kept a watchful eye out, overprotective like most parents probably are.

We lived a simple life and had modest homes. Most of them were located outside the city limits in a surrounding mountain community. I had always assumed this was because my parents were outdoor lovers. We spent most of our free time hiking, climbing, and exploring the wilderness areas. My dad always said it was wise that we know how to manage in the wilderness on our own. He taught me to use the stars, sun, and moon as my compass. He showed me the different varieties of plants that were edible, his best method for fishing, how to start a fire, and how to build a shelter. Really, he taught me how to survive just about anything that could or would come my way.

I allowed these memories to linger in my thoughts as I played the piano, morphing each song into the next. They weren’t anyone else’s melodies; they were my own. They came from deep within. I continued to play, thinking of what my life had become and the weeks that had followed their loss. I only finished playing when I knew my music had completely filled me to overflowing. My heart finally felt settled with the emotions. It had been such an overwhelming day. I needed to move on, and I needed to be strong.

“
Don’t like the way your bedroom looks, Cheyenne?” Colt asked. He was leaning against my doorframe with his arms crossed, looking a little mystified.

I was completely distraught over not being able to find a small pink and white jewelry box. I had been ripping my room apart, and my clothes were tossed aside and the dresser drawers were on the floor. I was frantically digging through my closet at that moment.

“
I can’t find it. I need to find it,” I panted as I continued to tunnel through my shoes. My heart began racing as the anxiety kicked in.

Colt moved in closer, but remained standing in the closet behind me. “What can’t you find?”

Looking up, panic-stricken, I replied, “The box. My jewelry box.” My heart began pounding even faster, as the realization set in. It was gone. Colt immediately squatted in front of me, taking my arms in his hand. He lifted me from the floor, his eyes searching mine.

“
Is this important?”

The tears that had become less frequent over the months came spilling out. “Yes. It was the jewelry box my mom gave me when I was six. It was a gift, and it held my ring at one time. I just need it…I just need it, Colt.”

“
What does it look like?”

“
It’s small, with pink and white material over it. The top has some scratches and a dent in the lower left corner where I dropped it once,” I replied through the tears.

His words held such empathy, “Let me help you look for it. Where was the last place you had it?”

“
It was on my dresser…and now it’s gone.” Colt released his hold as we exited the closet.

“
We’ll find it. I’m sure it’s here some place.”

We searched the entire house but couldn’t find it. I didn’t understand how it could go missing, but as I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t even noticed it was gone until now. I had no idea when it had disappeared. As I pondered it further, I came to the realization that other things were missing as well. What was the possibility that someone had come into the house and taken things? It made no sense, but where else would they have disappeared to?