I Run to You (24 page)

His voice thickened. Those topaz eyes shone
too bright. “You tell me, Brook. You tell me— how to stop loving
you. Because I have tried. There were times I thought I would rip
my heart out if it would stop the aching. There is no distance, no
drug, and no drink, that wipes it out of my head. Not that mistake,
or the memories, the feelings, all of them, before it
happened.”

Brook could not look at him a moment longer.
If she did, she would fall apart.

She said roughly, “You make yourself stop.
You get on with life, just as I did. Coy. You cannot do
this…Dammit! You can’t…”

She turned and rushed off toward her car.

~*~

Max and Jason sat there awhile longer after
Brook took off. They had exchanged several looks during that
conversation. Now, they watched Coy trying to pull himself
together. Silver tears raked his rugged cheeks. He roughly wiped at
them with his palms, and drew in a deep shuddery breath before
fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette. He lit it. His hand was
trembling. When he had smoked it, he turned and walked toward them,
not meeting their gaze when he said, “Let’s go. Get this gig over
with.”

Jason looked at Max. Max shook his head.
Neither of them were surprised at Coy’s admission, or his emotion.
However, neither had a word that would make any difference.

Chapter 12

Despite the incident with Karla, Brook’s life
began to develop a routine. She worked at the Tavern, and met with
the girls to practice and refine their sound, and their image. The
band name they drew out of a hat, “Audacious,” amused Brook. But,
was cool. It somehow fit their eclectic group.

She went out with Rafael too, when their
schedules allowed it. They talked more on the phone, than they were
together—because his Restaurant was booming, and with warmer days,
in his off time, he worked on his house.

When they were out at the dance clubs, they
had a great time. Brook could not help but noticed how drawn to him
women were. Girls boldly asked him to dance. She didn’t blame them.
He could move.

She sat back and watched him grind, move his
body, to any popular beat. She liked to tease him about it— because
he usually had to turn down a dozen offers for something, off the
floor. Propositions. He took in stride.

Several times they would meet up for lunch or
go for a drive, catch a movie. In these times together, Brook would
find her balance and humor again after stressing over Karla.

They fell into that easy companionship and
banter that was much more effortless after he had told her his
background. He joked about it sometimes. Other times, he would
almost make her pee herself laughing at witticisms; he never would
have cracked to the younger Brook. It was one of the best parts of
her life, once they relaxed their expectations. He was simply great
to be with.

He told her, one evening, as they were eating
ice cream on a park bench, “You know why I encouraged you to go and
kept in touch over the years, while you took chances and went for
the dreams you had? Because, I know what that feels like. You fail
at many things. But it is not ambition really, that made me
envision the restaurant and work toward it. It’s not what makes you
love making music, or doing other things—it is a sense of
accomplishment, yes. Nevertheless, it is like, part of who you are
that isn’t fully formed until you are doing it. That moment when
I’m looking around the restaurant, or you are on stage, that you
think, yeah, this is what that drive and restlessness was.”

“That’s very true.” She mused aloud and gazed
at him. “You have a lot of things you want to do, don’t you?”

“Yes. So do you.” He got up and wiped his
hands on a napkin then tossed it in the trash. “Living the way I
did before, you become fearless in a sense. Meaning not afraid to
see what others can’t and do what they think is unachievable.”

“Like restoring an old derelict house.” She
grinned and arose too, her double scoop chocolate cone finished;
she walked with him to the car while cleaning her hands with
germ-x.

He looped an arm around her shoulders pulling
her close to his side a moment. “Like that.”

When he was standing on the porch of her
house later, having to leave because he had an early morning, he
said, “I didn’t feel rich when I attained the dream. I felt it
slowly, over time, when I realized the friendships I’d made along
the way. You kind of make your family, once you are grown.”

“My Mom would say something like that.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, she probably did, some
time when she and I worked together. Madeline is special to
me.”

“It’s mutual.”

He kissed her. She walked him to the car. The
both of them idly talked about their hectic schedules.

“Were none of us perfect, Brook,” he said
from behind the wheel, having started the engine, his eyes now
scanning her face.

She almost felt as if Rafe saw into her
head.

Before she could respond though, he winked
and was soon pulling out with a, “Call when you have time.”

She stood a long time after his car faded
from view. She should tell him about the exchange with Coy. Not
that Rafe gave any sign he was insecure or didn’t trust her. She
wouldn’t tell him. It was not significant or life altering. It
changed nothing.

Still, as she headed inside, Brook mused that
the fact the subject of him never came up at all, considering their
time together was mostly talks, confidences, getting close, left
her feeling a bit out of balance.

~*~

The Coburns were preparing for the opening of
the Old Mill.

Madeline and Ruby were as busy as the men
were, but Brook made a point of going over, visiting, when she was
in Copper creek.

A few times Levi and some of the kids were
there. Brook would watch the boy, observe him, and be amused at his
unique traits combined with Coburn ones. The kids rode horses, four
wheelers, and played all out, like their parents. Still, each
generation seemed to bring their own unique something to the
family.

Levi was curious about her. He always managed
to plop down beside her. Or, the times he came outside and joined
her on the picnic table, as she was writing lyrics.

He had said once, “I don’t sing.”

“Why not?” She peeked aside at him.

His husky shoulders shrugged; face red from
romping in the yard and curly hair sweat dampened. “Don’t like to.
Dad says it’s okay if I don’t.”

“Sometimes you want to do what everyone else
does. But you gotta’ do what you enjoy best.”

“I like watching, listening.” He rubbed at a
bug bite on his finger. “But I’d rather play, and watch TV, play
video games.”

“Sounds like most of us when we’re kids.” She
grinned.

He looked around and then offered, “I’m going
to play Pro ball like Dad when I grow up.”

“That’s great.”

He nodded and fidgeted, scratched the back of
his neck, then shifted on the bench. “Rafael’s you boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“We go there on Friday. I like it. His
restaurant. He comes to the 4th of July picnic, out at the lake. He
is better on water skies than most anybody I seen. Alvin and G.W.
tried to drown him a dozen times, he just whizzed right on.”

“That’s cool.”

“You going to marry him?”

Brook felt his eyes on her face. “Sometimes
you gotta' figure out if you fit right with each other for that
kind of thing. We like hanging out. We’ve been friends for a very
long time.”

“Yeah. Dad said whoever he married, had to…
love me.”

Brook looked at him. “That’s right. “ She
touched his curls, even though he blushed at the affectionate
gesture. “It won’t be hard to do.”

He hopped down, but looked at her again,
saying, “I like you,”

As he spun and ran off, Brook grinned, chin
in her hand, elbow on her knee, watching him grab up his ball glove
and hop over a flowerpot before dashing toward the house.

“I like you too,” she whispered and then
sighed. He was a great kid.

~*~

Shortly after the encounter with Karla, Brook
had realized the Coburns were circling their wagons around her. She
stepped out of her house for work one morning and saw G.W. pulling
up. He had a bag of mulch over his shoulder, snuff in his bottom
lip. He was wearing the typical ripped out sleeves shirt, and
carpenter Levis...

“Hi.” She frowned and smiled, tossing her
purse in the car.

“Just going to take care of these flower
beds.” He let the mulch fall and dusted his hands.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Get a little itchy these days, nothing else
to do.”

Brook arched her brow. “What about the tow
business?”

“Me and Alvin run that together.” He grinned.
“Get on along to work. “Don’t mind me.”

“There’s a spare key under the mat.”

“That’s too obvious. You should put it
somewhere else.”

“Okay. But let yourself in.” She got in the
car, “And thanks.”

He waved that off, heading for his truck and
the gardening tools loaded on it.

Over the next little bit, Alvin dropped by
one evening for a beer, sitting out on the deck. Then a couple of
the younger cousins came by— supposedly to bring something Madeline
wanted her to have. It was a rare picture of Adell in her better
years, though she could have given it to Brook when she had been
over there the day before.

One day, at the Tavern, Nick muttered while
wiping the bar, “That’s the sixth Coburn, who’s either driven
through the parking lot, or came in for a beer, when I know most of
them don’t even come to Diamond Back this time of day.”

Leaning against the bar, Brook said dryly,
“I’ve had one or two of them drop by, call—or just be going up the
road and stop in, for the last couple of weeks.”

He grinned. “They’ve heard about Karla. No
doubt, Madeline is worried. So they’re just looking out for
you.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Nick put the glass down and poured them
coffee. It was a slow day. “Sunny and I talked. She’s not to come
in here again. Bill, her husband, tried to smooth it all out, but
she cannot be anywhere without doing something to draw negative
attention, and the customers get pissed. They come here for drinks,
music, and good times. She came for trouble.”

“I don’t know what to do about her.” Brook
shrugged and hopped up on a stool, sipping her coffee. “If I
thought talking to her—”

“No. Don’t…”

“I know. But I feel like she is watching me,
or has someone doing it. A couple of times Rafael and I were out,
she was in the parking lot of the restaurant or club. He gets
furious and wants to confront her. But she makes it look like she
was there, having dinner, out with friends, so—”

“She’s all over town. All she does, goes to
dress shops, the nail and hair salons, gossips and flirts around.
She is spending money, so people tolerate it. There was some talk
last week that she had brought some of those “friends” to one of
the golf courses that old Bill’s enjoyed for years. They were
acting up and security had them leave. I feel sorry for the guy. He
cannot be blind. He can’t show his face back at places where she
has been causing a scene. I think he just sits in the house. She
obviously manipulates him. The old fool.”

“It’s sad.”

Nick drank from his cup, looking at her
thoughtfully before saying, “I know Madeline is angry about what
she’s doing. She was hurt by what Karla did. She is upset that
Karla seems to never make the most of her opportunities. She made
enough exotic dancing to have choices, but somewhere along the way,
she got into the drugs.”

“I don’t know her anymore. I can’t say that I
ever did, considering.”

“Well as much as you think you can help
someone like that. If she didn’t see Jenna torn apart trying to, no
one else can do it but Karla.”

“True. But she’s fixated on me at the
moment.”

“Be careful.” Nick set the cup down as
customers came in. “We’re all looking out for you. But you never
know what she’ll get in her head.”

Brook nodded and got back to work, but that
day and several afterwards she spent a lot of time taking apart
their friendship, sifting through memories, trying to find some
clue as to when Karla’s thinking got skewed. When she’d become so
bitter. Brook kept coming back to her Dad’s death and Karla’s
probably not dealing with it well. It made her feel sorry for
Karla, even when part of her was anxious about how far Karla would
go to hurt her.

She said something to Rafael, along those
lines, one evening when they were grilling, out back.

He touched her cheek. “You can’t change her
now, bebē. She is a grown woman, who makes her choices.”

“I know. I just hate all of this. I want my
life to be normal, and I do not care what she does. I wish she’d
stop caring what I do.”

He had held her a moment, chin on her head,
and murmured, “Just don’t let her keep you from enjoying being
home, living your life.”

“I try not to.”

She had conversations with Madeline and Ruby
too, with Renee and the group. No one really knew how to stop
Karla. Sunny, although he encouraged her to file for a restraining
order after the threat that night—always reminded them that it
would be Karla’s word against Brooks, until something serious
happened.

Aside from that stressful part of her life,
Brook often mused, the rest could be pretty damn good.

She was busy, and when not writing songs,
talking to her friends, her “me” time included mulling over what
she would do as a profession aside from the Tavern.

She had talked to Renee about what Doc
Taylor’s wife said. Renee was all for it, but if they did anything
with it, she wanted to take more classes and study acupuncture, and
other alternative medicines. She had stacks of books already on
herbs and “healing foods” an organic gardening. She did everything,
candles, foods, oils, stuff that just impressed the hell out of
Brook.