I Run to You (2 page)

Brook looked at her. “It’s not my life
anymore, nor my concern. I know, I do, believe me; I understand
Mitch loves Coy, and conceivably, you do also, because y’all are
all family. I understand, even he and Max and Jason got close. But
I—”

“—It’s not that, Brook. It’s that I think she
is doing it because she heard you were coming back. That you’d
taken a Job at the rehab clinic.”

“Yeah, well. I had accepted it without much
thought. I heard also via Ruby that Coy still goes there, because
of his injury. Unless I can schedule around him—I may take Sunny up
on his offer instead, and work at the Tavern.”

“You can’t avoid him. You’ll want to see Max
and come to Copper Creek and he’ll be there.” Madeline searched her
face. “You told me you were over it…”

“I am.” Brook felt her stomach cinch at the
old betrayal. “But I haven’t quite figured out how to carry off
that, hey, we used to be old friends, first meeting.”

She winced. “I may be older and wiser,
worldlier, but it’s never left me why the best friend I grew up
with isn’t around. And, why—I hate those freaking teen shows where
girls are getting all screamy about the prom…”

Madeline laughed and scraped her teeth over
her lip. “Eh, I think we all have those things that were supposed
to define our teen school years, that once equated with betrayal,
or some angst nightmare, we never quite get over it.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Brook waved her
hand. “As to Karla— I don’t know what else she can do to me. I damn
sure have no intention of pretending we were ever friends.”

“I don’t blame you. Just wanted to give you a
heads up.”

After Brook nodded, Madeline helped her
unpack. She would be leaving in a bit. She and Mitch were restoring
one of the old buildings in Copper Creek, turning the Mill into a
sort of concert hall where locals could play. Fundraisers held—and
funds could be collected for returning vets, and too many of the
out of work locals.

In time, she and Brook sat on the newly
painted front porch, side by side on the swing, sipping iced
sodas.

“I’ve some other news.” Madeline pat Brook’s
thigh. “A sort of-secret someone asked me to keep.”

“What?” Brook glanced at her, eyes
narrowed.

Madeline reached in her back pocket and drew
out a card. “There’s a reservation for you there, at eight
tonight.”

Rafael’s. Brook read. Then gasp,
“Rafael’s!”

Madeline chuckled. “Sunny and he went
partners—Well, Rafael apparently had saved all along to open a
restaurant. You know, Sunny. He loves a good business deal. He
offered to be a silent partner—swears he can’t buy a decent meal in
Diamond Back at a nice upscale eatery. So…”

“Wow. With you working only two days, and
Lauren having left for greener pastures, who’s new at the
Tavern?”

“Nick manages, part time. Ashley is now the
most popular face—I swear, divorce was good for her. She is like a
fireball still. But people love her. Lord knows, there are many
people in the unemployment lines. But, Sunny comes in like
clockwork. His having left private practice. He is now with the
DA’s office. Renee actually works odd shifts, now and then. Her
cleaning business went south but she still does the organic
gardening and holistic medicines on the side. She actually fits in
quite well at the Tavern.”

“I’m floored.” Brook was. “Rafe—said nothing
in his letters.”

Madeline looked at her curiously. “Did he
write often?”

Brook hesitated, and then murmured, “No. Just
sent an amusing card now and then, or called once in a while.”

“I’m still curious about what he said, the
night of the prom?” Madeline confessed, grinning. “He’s got
interesting people working for him, Jordan O’Quinn, rides a Harley,
and has blue hair and a tongue piercing. Then there is Kris Kirk, a
male model look alike, who draws in the college crowd that you
would not expect to see there. Three very beautiful, dark females,
with Caribbean accents. Quite chic—and I might add, keep Max and
Jason’s heads turned when we eat there…

There is an exotic Brazilian flavor to the
place— adobe exterior, and lots of color inside. The food…God—Mitch
is trying to steal the recipes.”

Brook tucked the card in her pocket. Saying,
instead of answering the initial question, “When I came in for Mrs.
Dupree’s funeral, Rafe and I went for a long drive, and
talked.”

“Interesting.”

Brook peeked at her. “You never told me that
he used to joke about taking me out, back then?”

“You were so young. You know how he is—so
charming and. well, just the charismatic way he is. I didn’t take
it seriously. You were wrapped up in schoolgirl stuff.”

“Mmmmm...”

Her watch beeped. Madeline had to go. Brook
could tell she did not want to drop the conversation.

She snorted as her mother’s brow rose.

“You have to go meet your lover,”

Madeline elbowed her, gritting in mock
affront, “You’re really not going to give anything up, are
you?”

“No. Mom.” Brook kissed her cheek, and
afterwards walked her down to a black pick up.

Standing with hands in her pockets, feeling
that card there, Brook met Madeline’s eyes after the engine
started. “Tell Mitch I want spaghetti for Sunday dinner.”

“Will do. He was upset he couldn’t be here to
see your reaction to the house, but you know how he is when he’s
working.”

“Yes. I love that man.”

“Me too.” Madeline smiled. “I feel younger
than I did before we got back together.”

“It’s all the sex y’all have.” Brook teased,
loving it when Madeline blushed and snickered “Will Max be
there?”

“Um. Most of the gang. Max has been taking
photos, driving all over. He is as fascinated by the wildlife at
the lake, as he is with the locals. When he’s writing or working,
you can’t drag him away. He has promised to be there Sunday. Jason
has been gone for a month, working down in New Orleans. He got back
this morning.”

She got ready to back out, then supplied,
“Oh, yeah. Ruby’s and Jude will be there, with the twins.”

“Great. I have had a blast talking to them
over the phone, and getting those cute pictures they draw for me.
Hard to believe they’re nearly seven.” It was. Brook never listened
or thought of them, that she didn’t thank God that Ruby got to be a
Mom at last. She knew they were life and breath to the woman who
had waited so long to have children—so long, for the one man she
had loved. The only one—Coy’s father—badass Jude Coburn.

“Coy will stay away, I think.” Madeline met
her gaze.

Sound neutral Brook, she reminded herself. “I
assumed so.”

For a moment, Madeline lingered, obviously
debating before she uttered, “But sooner or later—you’ll run into
him.”

“Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about me,
Mom.” Brook smiled—completely bogus, fake. She turned to go in,
hearing Madeline back out and toot the horn before going down the
road.

Brook stood on the porch, peering down at
other houses, observing people watering their flowers, and kids on
bikes, or men gathered by a truck, talking. Maybe it was jet lag,
maybe not, but she felt somewhat surreal being there after all
these years. Hard to believe she was only seventeen when she left.
Coming back that short time for Mrs. Dupree’s funeral, she had made
herself not think of it as home—she had distanced herself of all
but the people she cared for here.

Someone down the way called out and waved.
Brook waved back, realizing that it was Mrs. Jacobs—a woman who had
filled her Halloween sack, bought candy for school functions, and
the like. Somewhere in the back of her mind there were stored
memories of Europe, of different sorts of people and cultures,
another atmosphere. Yet those were also difficult first years, of
trying to find herself. Trying to fit… where she could not. Of
having to be—someone else.

Eventually Brook drifted inside. She gathered
a change of clothing and then showered. Later, standing in her
room, she smoothed on lotion, dried her hair, pulled on peach lace
panties and bra, and considered her petite body in the mirror.

Despite the right words Ruby and her mother
said to her that devastating night, it had taken her a long time to
feel even the most normal attraction to a guy. Or to allow
herself—to like herself.

She had seen flaws that she attributed to Coy
and Karla's betrayal. She had been confused. Because, she tried to
do the right things her whole life, respect people and herself, and
it had led to that instead.

Sighing, muttering, because she didn’t want
to stumble down that memory lane again, Brook began applying mauve
shadow, a bit of liner at the edge and mascara. She went to the
closet and pulled down a thigh length black dress; simple, summery
and light. After slipping it on she found matching sandals, and a
black supple leather bag, which she transferred the contents of her
other purse to.

She looked at her image again. She saw an
almost twenty-four year old woman—no longer a girl. Someone with a
bit more wisdom in her violet eyes. Yeah, okay, so get dressed and
stop looking to see if your vulnerabilities are showing.

She smoothed on gloss before picking up the
card she had laid on the dresser. Ready to go, she headed out to
her car.

Later, driving into town, Brook passed the
huge stone house on the hill, with a winding upwards drive and
matching stone wall. It was two stories high, lit up on the inside
and had a shiny black sports car in the drive—likely Karla’s.

Shit. She shoved a CD in the player,
something her band had recorded that was amusingly rebellious.
Humming to herself, she was, deep down, not really convinced that
coming home was going to be easy—living here wasn’t. Hell no, it
wouldn’t be.

But, what the frick. There were unanswered
questions—that could only be answered here. She could not circle
the globe and avoid dealing forever. Could she.

Just as she had pulled up to the smooth adobe
restaurant, the cell in her purse rang. Brook had to search awhile
for a parking spot, squeezing in one finally—and fumbling for the
phone.

The car in park, she answered. “Brook
here…”

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Max.” Brook rolled the window down and
turned off the CD. “What’s up? You coming to Mitch’s on
Sunday?”

“You bet.” He sounded like he was walking
around outside, crickets and katydids could be heard. “Just taking
a break, and wondering if you made the trip okay. I’ve been in the
darkroom all day.”

“Yeah. The flight was fine. I was so
surprised at the changes to the house, did you see?”

“Yeah. I helped outside.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Are you going to come and see my
digs?”

“Yeah. I will.”

“Where are you, I hear traffic.”

“Just pulled into Rafe’s.”

“Great place. He’s got all our business.” Her
brother laughed. “We’ve become his Saturday regulars, before drinks
at the tavern.”

“It looks busy.” She glanced around the lot,
street lights shining on the rows of cars.”

“Great food too. Well, I’ll let you go.”

“Kay—uh, Max?”

“Yep.”

“Nothing…” She chewed some of her gloss
off.

“He’s here,” Max, said quietly. “In his
house, I mean. I can see the lights at night. See most of the top
of the house during the day. Not that we don’t hang out—and Levi is
a great kid.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ve talked
about this, right?”

“Yeah. We have, Brook. But I’m not blowing
off how many years that shit stuck with you. I was also covering
the ball teams before he was injured, freelancing. We have a
relationship—Hell, I don’t know…”

“Let’s not, right now.”

“Okay.” Max grunted. “I love you, kid.”

She chuckled. “You too, big bro.”

Brook ended the call, stuffed it in her
purse, and got out, striding to the arched entry— met by a waft of
air and the aroma of spice, coconut—and something else wondrously
delicious.

A waitress greeted her directly. She followed
her through to the main interior, observing aqua blue adobe walls
and tiled tables, tile on the floor—massive art on the walls that
portrayed a Peruvian flavor. That was so Rafe—a mixture of exotic
mysteries.

Brook was about to give the girl her name,
when Rafael emerged from some back section. The dining areas being
divided by walls, with open arches. He spied her and stopped mid
stride, then smiled wide and came toward her—

Brook was musing—in an amazed way— that even
since Mrs. Dupree’s death, he had grown more suave and handsome,
more exotic ;the sensual face, lush jet hair, always a breath
catcher when she saw him, and he was still well built, dark,
graceful, in that that unique way. He wore a lavender embroidered
shirt with banded collar and black slacks, nice shoes, still had
that tiny diamond in his ear. His naturally bruised lids, the
slightly flared nostrils—Lord yes, sensual lips. Incredibly
sexy.

“I see you made it home okay.” He reached for
her hands.

She took his. “Yes.” Brook looked around.
“This place is incredible.”

He winked at the waitress, who smiled, then
went back to her station. He kept Brook’s hand and turned. “Come
with me. I’ve a private table where we can catch up.”

She went with him, seeing heads turn, a few
whispers—not unaffected herself at his touch, or his presence.
Which— surprised her more than she wanted to admit.

He led her to the back and through a door, to
what was obviously his domain.

There was a round table covered with colorful
silk cloth, a candle in the center, two crimson leather chairs with
wrought iron backs. The place setting was lime green and sea blue,
the music just as exotic. Beyond the table was a black leather
sofa, desk and chairs, a few other things she did not take the time
to note, because he was seating her.