CHAPTER 3
Billy
Icouldn’t believe the words coming out of this lady lawyer’s mouth. This incredibly gorgeous and sexy lady lawyer.
When I walked into the conference room I’d expected to see Abernathy’s pompous ass in this meeting, which was a big part of my need for distraction in the supply closet.
Abernathy had hated Pop and the feeling was mutual. I’d protested having his firm handle the will but Hank’d vetoed my objection. Mainly because this was the only law firm in town.
I’d been primed to come face to face with Asshole, er… Abernathy, so imagine my surprise when I walked in to see a raven-haired, blue-eyed stunner seated at the other end of the conference table, clearly holding court.
There’d been rumors of a newbie arriving at Abernathy, but I’d never in a million years imagined she’d be a young Elizabeth Taylor. My mama had loved the movie Cleopatra and I’d had a crush on Elizabeth Taylor since before I knew what a crush was.
All those exciting, innocent, and overwhelming feelings came rushing back to me now. I wanted to get to know this lady lawyer, starting with her name and ending with the face she made when I was buried deep inside of her.
But that was gonna have to take a backseat. First, I needed to wrap my mind around the name I hadn’t heard spoken aloud in two decades.
Cheyenne.
My sister.
Shadow.
That was the nickname she’d earned because I’d had a difficult time pronouncing Cheyenne when she was born, and because the girl followed me around everywhere I went.
Memories came flooding back—a small-boned, delicate blonde girl wearing a sundress and sandals, ribbons waving from the end of her braids
In my mind’s eye, I could see the two of us in the yard, me around eight, which would’ve made her five. We were playing with my GI Joes. I was insisting they needed to fight; she wanted to pretend they were a singing group.
Another scene of her falling off of her bike after she tried to keep up with me and my friends popped into my head. Her knee was scraped and bleeding, but she stood up, wiped off the gravel that was stuck in her skin, stood her bike back up and got back on. She didn’t shed a single tear. In fact, she never cried.
Well…almost never.
Another scene came to mind.
My mama’s funeral and the reception back at the house after. All of us bawlin’ our eyes out. Pop, already half in the bottle even though it was well before noon.
A proper-looking older couple with Yankee accents that I didn’t recognize but found out were my mama’s people. My grandparents; that was the first and last day I ever saw them.
Damn, I hadn’t thought about that horrible day since it happened. I must’ve suppressed it, but the scene played out vividly in my mind now.
My grandmother, her face tight with anger, confronts my father. “James, don’t fight me on this. I don’t know why my daughter chose to marry you at all, but I accepted it. Now that she’s gone, I’m taking charge. It’s too late for the boys. They already run around like little heathens, and I don’t see that changing without a good deal of strict home training that I simply don’t have the energy for at this age. However, Cheyenne is a different story. It’s not too late to raise her properly, as a lady. That is precisely what I plan to do.”
“You can’t take my daughter. I don’t know who the hell you think you are.”
I can hear two things in my father’s voice: indifference and slurring. I’m not surprised, just scared. He doesn’t seem to care about much since Mama died. Except for drinking. Now, it seems like he doesn’t even care that much about Shadow getting taken away.
I wrap my arms around her a little tighter as she buries her head against my neck and cries.
The woman reaches under the kitchen table and pulls Cheyenne out of my arms. I yell in protest and try to hold on, but I’m only eight. No match for the strength of an adult.
“James, we are taking Cheyenne home with us to Connecticut today. If you feel you have a chance and can muster up the wherewithal, I welcome you taking us to court. I have no doubt the judge would see things our way.”
Throughout this speech, Cheyenne is reaching for me, crying. I naively think my father is going to stop them. But he doesn’t.
When the woman turns, still holding firmly to Cheyenne’s arm, and marches away, Cheyenne lets out a shrill, piercing scream and tries to scramble out of my grandmother’s arms. I run out from under the table and try to pull her back to me. I scream, “You can’t take Cheyenne! You can’t take Shadow!” but the older man, my grandfather, who’s been silent this whole time, simply picks me up and sets me aside.
And just like that, they’re gone.