I Run to You (25 page)

However, she took it seriously, and wanted to
“know her stuff.” Which, Brook, completely understood.

It was not as if her life wasn’t full. Busy.
She made time for family too, considering they were all working.
Sometimes, Brook could admit to herself that she was trying not to
think of “other things” that made her question any of the
good/normal parts of her life.

Renee wasn’t much better at distractions from
real, unresolved, issues.

One evening Brook worked a late shift with
her, because Ashley had dental work done, and was having a
miserable couple of days. Taking time off, she had asked Brook to
fill in, and Brook did. Sunny was in his office most of the shift,
coming out now and then to mingle or help Nick at the bar.

Brook had watched Renee play it cool around
him. But, there was tension, residue from whatever he had said that
Saturday night. After the customers left, Brook was cleaning up,
Nick left after closing the bar, and Renee was tending the
front.

Finishing in back, Brook had come into the
front area, hearing Renee and Sunny’s muffled voices through the
office door. It sounded like an argument. It was telling, in her
opinion, since Sunny was basically very laid back and collected. He
rarely got ruffled by anything.

The only emotions he had a hard time hiding
was how the absence of Mrs. Dupree was felt in his life, and
everyone understood that. After his father died, Sunny had pulled
her out of grief, and until the day she died, they had enjoyed a
friendship, humor, a kind of wonderful relationship that was
rare.

On the outside, Sunny had it all. However,
Brook, Madeline, to many who knew him, Sunny was only human, like
the rest of them having to deal with life. Now that she was aware
he and Renee had a moment of passionate abandon, Brook wondered if
he struggled between a very real attraction, perhaps more—and all
those preconceived notions men of his age and accomplishments
probably had.

She didn’t think it was snobbery. Sunny was
likely going through the same insecurities everyone did—when
opposites, obstacles, and contrasts, were thrown in the mix.

Without Mrs. Dupree, he had probably noticed
the restlessness more. Needed a change. He had made quite a few.
She had heard via Rafael that Sunny’s estate had sold. Some
business acquaintance of his had bought it for a vacation home. He
was living in a rental, looking for something else.

Rafe had told her, “He talks about not
enjoying the things he did with his mother anymore—losing interest
when he is out with his business associates, at clubs, golf
courses, and events. Making life simpler. He is looking at land
over at Shiloh Springs—those rustic properties where people raise
horses, fish on the lake, and most of the neighbors are not in the
country clubs—even if they have money. I personally think it’s all
Sunny—finally doing/discovering what Sunny wants for a change.”

She had agreed. Only, at the Tavern, around
friends who did not expect him to be anything other than a friend,
was Sunny relaxed and laid back, his usual amusing and brilliant
self, at his best.

The voices behind the door rose. So, Brook
went to the other side and stacked chairs. By the time she came
back and was ready to go, there was Sunny’s voice—soothing
something in deep tones, as if Renee was crying or upset.

Feeling awkward, like she was eavesdropping,
Brook slipped out, leaning just outside the front entry. The glass
in the doors would show Renee where she was, if the woman needed
her.

It was a warm night, distant traffic going
by; occasionally someone with the window down and Rapp throbbing
broke the pattern of vague noise.

She looked over as the door opened.

“Sunny wants to talk to you,” Renee
called.

Turning, Brook went in, watching Renee go to
the bar and open a beer.

“You okay?”

“I quit.”

Brook’s mouth fell open.

“It’s okay, really.” Renee smiled. “I have
other options, professional and personal.” She raised the beer and
grabbed her purse off the counter. “I’ll call you. I promise.”

Sunny’s office door was open. Brook walked
in, seeing him behind the desk, his chair leaned back. He glanced
up at her, waved her into the chair across the desk, and went back
to staring rather absently at the schedule.

Her gaze went over his handsome face, seeing
tension everywhere in it and in his voice as he spoke.

“Ashley will take the day shifts, Monday and
Wednesday. Can you cover those evenings, and rotate weekends?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay with being called in if you’re
needed?”

“Yeah, sure. Sunny?”

He raised his eyes, looking at her, as if he
knew what she was going to say.

Quietly Brook asked, “Do you think Renee is a
mature woman?”

“Of course. She had herself declared
independent at sixteen, supported herself, built a business,
works.”

Brook scanned his face, seeing past that cool
tone. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Tossing the schedule sheets on the desk, he
lowered the chair and got up, walking over to the window.

Brook eyed his broad back, long, powerful
body, and the inky braid. He wore denims and a white dress shirt,
the tail out.

She went on, “Because—to people who know you,
know her, care about both of you, that’s all that would matter.
If—two mature grownups want to have a relationship—”

“It’s not that easy, Brook. You learn early
in this profession not to cross boundaries. You certainly learn
that you don’t have a fling with some twenty-two year old, who
works for you.”

“And that matters, to whom? Your political,
and high society crowd?”

“It matters.” He shrugged then turned,
looking at her as if resigned to have this conversation while he
lowered himself to sit on the window ledge, hands beside his legs,
cupping the edge. “I’m not just a few years older than Renee. I’m
almost twice her age.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Beside the point.”

“So, you can’t date or have any sort of
relationship with someone younger than you? Rather that much
younger. Bullshit.” Brook snorted softly. “Unless, it was what it
was—a onetime thing.”

His brow rose. “She told you?”

“I guessed.”

“How did—never mind.” He half laughed and
shook his head. A nerve in his cheek ticked under his high bones.
“It doesn’t make any sense. No matter what it was.” He got up,
rubbing the back of his neck and walking around restlessly—very
un-Sunny like.

“You mean, she won’t fit in the world you
have?”

“Something like that.”

“You don’t like her music, object to her
clothes, don’t eat the same foods, can dig the same books and
movies….”

He stopped and shot her a dry look. “I’m not
that damn old.”

“My point exactly.” She laughed. “If we’re
talking a relationship here. Hell— if you were dating her, it’s no
different from any one else. You can support what she does, let
yourself open up to the things she enjoys and vice versa. It is
what everyone who dates, does. If it is sex. It’s sex. If it is
more, it is complicated for all of us. Takes more effort.

I think people who seem opposite are
sometimes fascinated with people they think, are—both have some
things in common, something that draws them. And that opposite
shit—makes for a lot of exciting things yet to discover.”

He leaned against the wall, across from her,
hands in his pockets, his dark brown eyes full of reflective
thoughts. “Your generation is a lot more liberal than mine.”

Brook rolled her eyes, snorting. “Hey, I may
have been young when I left, but I remember you as cool and hip.
Despite the persona you have in the courtroom or with your downtown
“suits,” all that culture and worldliness—you’re a normal guy.

Hell, even to me, you just seemed like a,
well, a hot guy, who happened to have money, brains, and a great
relationship with your mother. You and Mom were friends. In spite
of you being her boss. You supported everything the people who
worked for you did, and cared about them, as friends. But
objectively, most of the women who were and are old enough to like
guys, see you that way.”

“Thanks.”

She laughed at his preening expression. “Be
serious.”

“Okay.” He sobered, then sighed, leaning his
head back, and closing his eyes a moment.

“Do you still view me as some high school
kid? As just Madeline’s daughter. Some young girl who works for
you?”

“No. Of course not.” Sunny murmured without
moving.

“Then what’s the problem? It’s all in your
head, Sunny. I am not ignorant of how people in the polo and garden
club and high societies think. But to hell with them—when it comes
to your personal life.”

He lifted those lashes a few inches, looking
up at the ceiling. “It’s over—before it ever got started.”

When he pulled away and began clearing up his
desk, Brook stood and muttered, “Maybe it’s a good thing she quit.
So, she gets on with her life, does her thing, because she is an
independent, attractive, talented, and smart woman—who can. Maybe—
it’ll make you realize you have to make a decision, and go after
what you want, regardless of what you imagine are obstacles.”

“You’re too much like your mother.” He
laughed shortly glancing at her.

“I wish I was half what my mother is. I am
just someone who cares for you. And I care for Renee. Don’t either
of you deserve to see where the obvious attraction could go? I
mean, if it runs its course, it does. At least you and she were
open and treated each other on the same adult level. She can handle
it. Whatever the limits are, you know. If you cut the bullshit
excuses, about age and differences, and just get honest.”

Turning off the lamps, he grabbed his
briefcase and followed her out the door. After he set the alarms
the shut off the lights, they were out in the parking lot. Once
he’d put his things in his car, he walked her to her VW.

Brook got in, but didn’t start it. She
glanced up him, waiting for some response.

He stood there, brooding a moment, hands in
his pockets again.

She uttered on a sigh, “Okay. Play it all
cool and laid back.” Brook started the car and made to pull
out.

“I’ll call her.”

“That’s a start.”

“That’s not a guarantee of anything,
Brook.”

She smiled at him dryly. “Of course not.
You’re a guy. Y’all love making the women in your life daft.”

She waved and pulled out, calling Renee half
way, and telling her about the conversation.

Renee, who sounded like she was in bed,
muttered, “Great. This should be interesting, if nothing else.”

In the middle of their call though, Sunny
texted Renee. Brook hung up. She was waiting to see how it worked
out. Hoping—they at least gave it a chance.

Chapter 13

It was a three days before the opening day at
the Mill. Max was hanging out at Mitch and Madeline’s, while they
took a break from all the hard work leading up to the
opening—before the madness of the event. It would be two days of
music, Friday for the rock and country/pop, all day Saturday they
had booked gospel and bluegrass. Some of the acts would arrive in
busses. Some of the people coming to enjoy it stayed in campers.
Nevertheless, the whole area would be filled by the time the place
opened and vendors of all sorts were lined up to sell things.

Madeline and Ruby had lined up locals to run
concession stands, sell CD’s T-shirts, hats and whatever else. Some
were charities, veterans groups. The popular bands lined up for
Friday were mostly local. Some the younger Coburns knew from their
favorite hip clubs.

Since “Audacious” would have their debut of a
sorts, at the Mill on Friday, Max had been hearing the girls
jamming all day, rocking the old farmhouse, the music carrying up
and down the hollow.

Folks were on porches or the lawn
listening.

Sometime in the evening, he and Mitch set
three picnic tables together out back, as Madeline invited Renee
and the others over for a cook out. Max was taking complete
advantage of the situation, since it meant he’d see Jordan
again.

While Mitch cleaned and prepared the grill in
the shaded back yard, Max went in and sat at the counter, watching
Madeline getting plates and cups ready to take out.

He asked her, “Is it easier to talk about
your mother, and your having to let Aunt Gee Gee raise me,
now?”

“Yes.”

“Would you do me a favor?”

She glanced up from counting cups.
“Anything?”

He grinned and then grimaced. Her own smile
was curious. “If you get the chance to—off handily mention your….
struggles…” He stopped and wiped a hand over his face and muttered,
“Hell. That sounds stupid.”

Setting the cups aside, Madeline reached
across and took his hand. “What is it? Go ahead. You can tell
me.”

“I can’t really.” He rubbed her fingers with
his thumb. “I just wish there was some way…you could maybe share
some of what you’ve gone through… with Jordan.”

Searching his eyes, the same violet hue as
her own, Madeline murmured, “You mean what it’s like growing up
with nothing, being responsible for mother. loving you from afar,
wanting to hold you, and even though it all turned out great—there
was a lot of pain in those years.”

“Yes.”

“Even when I felt you had everything I
couldn’t give you, Max. I still ached for you.”

“I know.” Max kissed her hand.

Watching him, Madeline said as their fingers
parted, “You want her to confide in me, don’t you? Whatever that
pain is, I see in her eyes.”

“You see it?” He blinked at his mother.

“Yeah. I do.” Madeline smiled sadly.

“I want….” He shrugged, frustrated with how
to put it.