The Cherry Valley Chronicles: Cherry Valley

By Acire

Erin is living the fabulous life but when the death of a loved one occurs, it turns her world upside down. She goes to the last place on earth for support. In her search for healing a family secret begins to unravel and sends her life into a tailspin. Now Erin is forced to choose between her destiny with a man she doesnt love or break tradition to be with her soul mate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 26, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452022437

Acire

Acire was born and raised in Arkansas,in a small town called Cherry Valley. In Cherry Valley, she fell in love with poetry and writing. She wrote several short stories and poems all through her teens. After her dream of being a writer was discouraged for a more stable career, she became a business manager. She attended a few colleges and trade schools trying to find a path to happiness. She was never satisfied with anything she accomplished. Although she was blessed to have a good job with one of the biggest phone companies in the world, she still felt dissatisfaction with her life. Just two years ago, a writing opportunity of being a film critic fell into her lap. This inspired her to go find all of her old works and she made the decision to pursue her dreams.

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© 2011 Acire. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 10/14/11

Previously published by AuthorHouse 10/10/10

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010915661

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Edited by Alanna Boutin.

Contents

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO

CHERRY VALLEY, ARKANSAS

THANKS FOR ALL THE GREAT MEMORIES

LOVE, ACIRE

PROLOGUE

My name is Erin Noelle Davenport; my initials abbreviate END. The END is exactly how I felt here. Here is my hometown Cherry Valley, Arkansas, population 704, and I swear to you on a stack of golden Bibles that they had to be counting the cattle to come up with that number. I only come back here for the holidays and the holidays ONLY. Cherry Valley will suck all the life out of you if you let it. I’m here today, and it’s definitely not a holiday; I’m here for other purposes. I’m back home to attend a funeral, a funeral I should have known was coming.

Chapter 1

Well, let’s get started … I guess ninth grade would be the best place to start. It was the first day of school. Now, let me explain a little about my high school, Cross County. It’s made up of three different towns: Cherry Valley, Vandale, and Hickory Ridge. These are all very different towns, all combined in one very small melting pot. I was in for the shock of my ever-living life.

That morning was a nightmare! I woke up with a pimple on my forehead. I was thinking, Why, Jesus, why? I knew I would have to call up the troops immediately and tell them that the wardrobe and accessories would have to change. We had to wear uniforms, but we like to add a little color. We had to wear these ugly blue/white/gray checkerboard-pleated skirts with long, white kneesocks and light blue color shirts with navy-blue blazers. We would dress up the outfits with colorful headbands, bracelets, and tank tops. This was all we could do without getting into trouble. This was an emergency. This day could make or break us. My brother left me without a name to live on. Of course, we hated each other and made death threats through our eyes every day. Still, he could have done something beside make a perfect score of C’s all through high school.

Anyway, back to the troops: First, I called Chloe. She’s one of my best friends and my favorite cousin as well. She was the shy one out of the bunch; she had caramel-colored skin with long, light brown hair and the whitest, straightest perfect teeth I have ever seen. Those teeth should have be bone straight. She had to wear a mouth gear to bed the whole four years she wore her braces. She’s what you would call a turtle. Whenever something would happen and she wasn’t ready for it, she would run and hide.

On her tenth birthday, her mother threw her a surprise birthday party. It took us two-and-a-half hours to find her. I knew she would calm me down after this nightmare of a morning I was having. I told her I was going to have to change from the purple to pink headband. The only headband I had that would help cover this monster of a pimple was my stretched ribbed pink one. She understood, and she happily changed her headband from pink to purple.

I called Bridgette next. Bridge was what you would call the freak-out. She looked older than what she was. Bridge had beat all of us in the developing stage. She had reddish brown hair cut in a bob right to her chin. Bridgette was very pretty but was in that overdeveloped awkward stage. She had great skin and not a pimple or scar anywhere on her body. She never did anything to get a permanent scar herself because she was afraid of her own shadow.

She freaks out about everything known to mankind. Just this past Christmas in homeroom, Mrs. Forester was collecting Christmas gifts from all of the students. Bridge was in front of me in line and Georgia Santos was behind me. Georgia asked me what I got for Mrs. Forrester for Christmas, and I told her, I got her a glass candy dish.

What did you get her? I said.

Oh, I got her a golden apple paperweight.

After that, all I remember hearing was the sound of someone gasping for air. I turned around, and it was Bridge. I don’t really remember the words that passed through the air. The next thing I knew Bridge was on top of Georgia beating the brakes off of her. I don’t remember much because I got hit in the head with not one, but two golden apple paperweights. I had a slight concussion.

I kept saying hello on the phone after I told Bridge about the wardrobe switch, but there was nothing but dead air on the phone. Her little brother Tommy finally picked the phone up and said they would probably be late for school, then I heard him yelling, Mom, she’s done it again.

Oh, I said.

That was code that Bridge had passed out. Maybe I shouldn’t have called her after all.

I called Lyric last. You couldn’t have a great song without a lyric. She was exactly that, a great lyric. Every girl wanted to be Lyric, no matter their race, shape, or personality. She was the IT girl of our town. Lyric was the typical Barbie girl: blond hair and blue eyes. Lyric could sing, dance, play the piano, speak two different languages, and cheer her butt off. She was a shoo-in for the Junior Cheerleader squad. Of course, she had a little help with her twin sisters both being captain and co-captain of the senior cheerleading squad. Everyone loved and worshipped the ground she walked on. But she was just plain Lyric to us. Lyric understood the wardrobe malfunction and said she would bring a little foundation since my mother would not let me wear makeup yet.

I heard the bus pulling up while I was grabbing my backpack. Then I heard my mom calling my name while I was reaching for my Pop-Tarts and milk off the kitchen table.

What, Ma?

Erin, don’t forget to take Ashley some.

Uuuuuuhhhhhhh…

Erin!

Okay, Ma!!!

For the past three years, my mom has been saying the same thing to me every morning before school. Ashley Carpenter was a kid who lived up the road from me. I called Ashley A.C. I felt sorry for the kid. A.C. was a very unhealthy, skinny, pale little thing. He hadn’t spoken a word for the past three years, not since his mother had died. She was very sick, and she was really good friends with my mother. A.C.’s father used to work at the copper plant with my father, but since the passing of his wife, he has turned into a miserable drunk. They live off of A.C.’s money from the state.

My mother cooked for our family, A.C., and his father every single day. She always favored A.C. like he was so fragile. A.C. was just so weird now. She used to make me take dinner down to them every day and breakfast for A.C. on school days. I hated going over there because it always smelled like urine, and A.C.’s father used to use a lot of profanity. I grew up in a very strict Christian home and was never exposed to un-Christianlike behavior. But when I had to go over to A.C.’s, it was a different story.

I grabbed A.C. a carton of milk out of the fridge and flew out the door. Mr. Jeffrey, the bus driver, was as evil as they came. He drove the dirtiest bus. He never swept it, and he used to tell us, If you drop it on the floor, you live in it. Although the bus was disgusting and Mr. Jeffrey was evil, it was much better than riding in my mom’s Christian Crusade mobile. Mr. Jeffrey saw me busting out of the door, hitting the ground running. He laid his hand on the horn and didn’t let up until I got on the first step of the bus.

Mr. Jeffrey, now, was that really necessary? I asked him. He told me to sit my chunky butt down and shut the hell up. I hated Mr. Jeffrey with a passion.

As I walked toward the back, I saw Chloe sitting in the third row from the back next to the window and A.C. sitting in the seat next to her. A.C. was totally in love with Chloe. He followed her around like a lost puppy. She acted like she really didn’t mind, but he bugged the crap out of me. Sure, I felt sorry for the kid, but dang, he needed to say something to somebody. I handed him one of my Pop-Tarts and milk on the sly. He didn’t need anybody picking on him any more than they already did. Chloe had a grin on her face as big as Texas.

What? I asked.

She whispered, I know something you don’t know, in that na na na na na tone.

What?

She just grinned at me.

WHAT? I asked.

Turn around, she said in her sly voice.

I turned around and looked in the seat behind us and there was nothing.

What?

The other way, she said.

I turned around the other way, and there he was sleeping against the bus window, mouth wide open, looking like he hadn’t slept for days. What in the world was he doing on my bus route? He wasn’t supposed to be here, but I was glad he was. I turned around and looked at Chloe

OMG! Evan Nicholas Donaldson is on my bus route! Whoooooooo hoooo! I couldn’t finish anything I was trying to say. I’ve been truly, madly, deeply in love with Evan since the fifth grade.

We were playing T-ball at school one day, and it was our first face-to-face greeting. This was also back when I still had to wear my bifocals. Well, in all honesty, they weren’t bifocals, but good grief, they felt like they were. I hated my glasses, and playing T-ball with those big things on my face did not help. I hit the ball, and made it all the way to second base. My glasses fell off somewhere between first and second base, so I couldn’t see a thing. The only person who knew what was going on was Evan. He was second baseman.

Erin, are you okay? Evan asked in his high-pitched, crackling voice.

No, I lost my glasses somewhere. I can’t see.

When did you lose them?

A few seconds ago they just fell off.

Okay, stay right here. Don’t move. Evan called a time-out, then ran back to first base looking for my glasses. He came right back and said, Well, I think you stepped on them. They are kinda cracked.

Oh, thanks, Evan. I started reaching for them but had no luck. He placed them on my face, and I saw Evan for the first time. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. Then he was gone again. The glasses broke completely in two, right there on my face.

Chloe grabbed my face. Hello, are you in there? Snap out of it, bringing me back from my memory.

Wha—?

She interrupted me. Erin, this can so be your year. It’s a sign, I believe it.

Oh, you and them stupid signs, I said. What is he doing here?

She told me that his family moved closer to town over the summer.

They did?

Yeah, his grandmother is really sick, and his parents moved in with her to help out a little.

Oh, so he’s living at the Donaldson estate now? I replied.

Yes, she said. The Donaldson estate was three blocks from my house. Everyone knew the Donaldsons were filthy rich, but old woman Donaldson cut Evan’s father, Mr. Donaldson, off when he married Evan’s mother. Evan’s mother used to be a singer in a club in downtown Memphis and that didn’t sit too well with the old lady. Not only was she a club singer, she was a different race, and old woman Donaldson was set in her backward ways.

Evan’s family lived way out on the south side of town in a little house not big enough for the growing Donaldson boys. Evan was the middle of the three boys. His older brother drove to school, so I wondered why Evan was on our bus. Chloe said that Evan’s older brother Ethan was dating Celeste Miller now, a junior who, two years ago, was in our same shoes. She was a bigger-boned girl, just like me. If Celeste dates one of the starters on our basketball team, maybe everything would be okay for me. Maybe in a few years I would be as lucky as Celeste.

We had just made it to Bridge’s house, and everybody on the bus was staring at her front door. I could hear Bridge screaming before we even made it to the house. Then I saw Bridge’s mother wave at Mr. Jeffrey to keep going, but I think Mr. Jeffrey was in shock. His toothpick fell out of his mouth. Mr. Jeffrey drove by in slow motion; it was a sad sight to see. Suddenly, I saw Bridge’s mother throw a backpack at Timmy and told him to get in the car. She was dragging Bridge out of the house by her ankles. The bus was so quiet I could have sworn I heard A.C. whisper, Damn. I turned around and saw that Evan’s face was glued to his window. His mouth was wide open in shock.

Chloe said, What the…?

I told her about the wardrobe change and she… did it again.

Chloe knew what that meant, so all she could say was, Oh.

By the time we made it to school Lyric was standing up front at the entrance with three guys behind her. I looked at Chloe and said, Well… same old, same old.

We got off the bus and met with Lyric.

Hey, girls, Lyric said in her very high-pitched voice.

Hey, there, Lyrical, Chloe replied.

Hey, Lyric, I said.

Lyric looked behind us, then gazed at the bus. Where’s— I cut her off.

Don’t ask.

Oh no. It’s the first day of school. I got us escorts, Lyric said. I looked quizzically at Lyric.

Okay, Lyric, the school has 300 students. I don’t think we will need escorts.

Noooooo, Lyric whined. They wanted to, really they did. Now give them your backpacks, she said.

I asked, Lyric, is this really necessary?

Before she could even part her lips, A.C. snatched Chloe’s backpack off her shoulder and grabbed mine out of my hand. He grunted and huffed, then walked through the entrance doors.

Well, Lyric said giggling, good morning, A.C.

Now, that was really sweet, Chloe said in hushed voice. I looked at her.

When are you and my mother going to realize that that boy is a little off?

Chloe said, He’s harmless, and he means well.

Really, Erin, you guys used to be the best of friends, Lyric said.

Yeah, until he went cuckoo.

The first bell rang, and Lyric said, Shoot, let’s go. I don’t want to miss Channel 1.

Miss what? I asked.

Channel 1 is a news channel for students. My sisters told me all about.

Wait a minute; we get to watch TV in school?

Yeah, it’s a news station for teenagers. It’s supposed to be really good. Let’s go! Lyric demanded.

Chloe looked back at the parking lot.

She’ll be here, come on, I urged.

We made it to first-period English in time, and we saw A.C. sitting there in the back holding our seats for us. He put my backpack in the seat next to his and Chloe’s in the seat in front of him, so he could daydream at the back of her head probably, and then he put his backpack in the seat in front of mine for Lyric. Chloe walked in behind me and went straight over to A.C.

Thank you, Ashley; that was so sweet of you.

He smiled and put his head down. We sat down in our seats, pulling out notebooks and pens.

Oh! Lyric, I almost forgot to ask you who those guys were.

I don’t know. They said they were football players, she replied.

OMG! Lyric, are you serious?

Yes… why? she asked.

I mean, Lyric, football players?

Yeah, and your point is…?

Nothing, Lyric. Never mind.

Mrs. Campbell came in and called class to order. She said we would not have announcements today, but that she would let us know our schedule for the rest of the school year. She seemed nice enough, just very structured.

By the time the TV popped on all by itself and the screen said Channel 1, we all thought it was so exciting. But, of course, we had to pretend like it was no big deal. I mean, we were in high school, for God’s sake.

Channel 1 was really good; it was kids doing the news. I had never seen anything like it. They talked about everything from school, to clothes, to music.

When Channel 1 was over, Mrs. Campbell did roll call. She asked for everyone to say Present when their name was called. She called Ashley Carpenter first, and I looked at him. No one else was really paying attention, but I guess Mrs. Campbell already knew because she looked up like she was expecting something.

A.C. raised his hand and met eye contact with Mrs. Campbell. She smiled at him and went to the next name on the roster. She called my name. Erin Davenport? and I said, Present. She paused for a second and asked, Are you any kin to Kane Davenport?

Great! I said under my breath. Umm, yes ma’am, he’s my brother.

Oh! she said shaking her head and went on to the next name. Chloe looked at me and mouthed, What was that?

I mouthed back, I don’t know.

The bell finally rang, and we all had second period, World History, together. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. That woman freaked me out. Why did she ask me that? I know we have a very small town and school, but dang, Lyric’s sisters go here too. Why she didn’t ask Lyric if she was kin to them? I swear my brother is going to ruin my life.

We walked down to the ninth-grade hall and found our lockers. The hallway was so dark and spooky. The only classes that were on this hall were Wood Shop and Home Economics. From what I’ve heard, both of those teachers are as crazy as they come. Of course, I heard that from my brother. That’s why they put them in that hall together. My brother said one day a kid cut the tip of his finger off in shop. He said Mr. Kingston told the kid, You ain’t leaving till that bedpost is done. And then he told the kid, You better not get any blood on it.

I didn’t have any problems with Mr. Kingston because I was a girl and Mr. Stallings, the school principal, would never make a girl take shop. He was a very fair man, and he was also really good friends with my father. They were both on the city council together and had been for years.

We all met up at the water fountain in the ninth-grade hall.

Hey, you guys, I just saw Bridge. She went into the office to get some aspirin.

Lyric and I both said, Figures.

We made it to World History and A.C. was sitting up toward the front with an angry look on his face. I looked at Chloe.

What’s wrong with your boy? I asked her.

She said, I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him.

Lyric and I both looked at her and said, What?

He communicates in different ways, you guys.

But by the time we all walked in class and looked at the board we all knew why A.C. looked so mad. We had assigned seating. I said, Oh, Jesus, why?

The bell rang and Mr. Scott called the class to order and told us we had paper name tags on our desks. My assigned seat was directly behind A.C. Chloe’s last name was Vaughn, so she was in the back corner all by herself. She had a window right next to her so I knew she would be okay. Lyric was directly in the middle, so I could still have a good view of her. Someone opened the door, everyone looked, and there he stood. Evan Donaldson. He handed Mr. Scott a note.

Okay, Mr. Donaldson, your seat is going to be… Ms. Davenport? I heard someone call my name, but I couldn’t move; my brain wouldn’t let me. He was so cute; he had waves in his hair that were so deep they made me seasick. Finally, I heard Mr. Scott.

Ms. Davenport! Can you hear me? Earth to Ms. Davenport.

Yes sir, present. I’m here.

Thank you, Ms. Davenport. I need you to move one seat back. We have another ‘D.’

LUCKY, I thought to myself. Wait! Evan’s last name is Donaldson. He should be sitting behind me. I’m not sure what Mr. Scott was thinking, but I wasn’t going to correct him. I would prefer to stare at the back of that all period. Evan Donaldson is going to be sitting in front of me in World History.

I heard Mr. Scott say, Okay, Mr. Donaldson, take your seat in front of Ms. Davenport.

I grabbed my notebook and pens and moved to the seat behind me. Then I looked over at Lyric, and she mouthed, OMG!!!! I looked over at Chloe, and she was so distracted worrying about A.C., I guess. She was looking dead at him, mouthing, It’s okay. I looked over at him, and he looked like he had tears in his eyes. I thought that fool is crazy! Chloe needs to stay as far away from him as she can.

As Evan sat down in his seat, he picked up a pen off the floor and turned around.

Erin, is this your pen? the heavenly voice said to me. I thought, Dang, how many Erins are in here? I put my head down and opened my notebook. Evan touched my hand, and I felt his sweaty, clammy fingers touch my skin. I couldn’t catch my breath fast enough.

There was a