Madeline Logan slammed on her brakes to block the red Mazda coming out of Copper Creek Road. Her beat-up Bronco shuddered to a halt and sprayed gravel. Leaning out the window, glaring at her daughter on the passenger side of the car, she yelled, "Get your ass over here, now, Brook!"
The driver, sixteen-year-old Karla Boggs looked anxious. She put the car in park as Brook got out and gathered her things from the back seat. "Mrs. Logan, please don't be mad. I can explain," Karla pleaded.
"Brook isn't allowed in Copper Creek. I've told you that a thousand times, Karla."
"Do you have to do this?" Brook strode toward her, jerking open the Bronco door and slamming her books inside. She jumped into the seat. "Do you have to be dramatic, Mother? God!" She thumped her platform shoe against the floor of the car. "I'm not a child."
Madeline glanced from her daughter to Karla. To Karla, she said, "I'll see you later," in a voice that was probably too accusing, though she did not blame her this time. She blamed Brook, and she blamed these hated teen-age years where everything between them was falling apart.
"We were taking homework to Coy Coburn. He broke his ankle," Karla leaned out her window and explained.
"Later, Karla." Madeline pulled out onto the road and headed the fifteen miles to Diamond Back. She glanced at her daughter. The March wind ruffled her russet hair, the same color as Madeline's, but streaked with honey-blond and styled a la Meg Ryan.
"I told you to stay out of Copper Creek."
"Yeah--and away from Copper Creek boys," Brook sang with a mocking twang. "What did you do, spy on me?"
"I was coming from Ruby Peyton's. I left work early and thought I'd pick you up. That's not the point. You were forbidden to go there."
Brook glared out the window. "I can't wait until Daddy gets me a car."
The Bronco hit a chug hole. Madeline swerved, muttering, "I swear. If you pull this stunt again, you'll go live with your father in Nashville."
"Oh I am. But I've got three months of school to finish. And you need to chill out."
Madeline counted to ten and flexed her fingers on the wheel. The tension between them had been rising steadily since she'd found out Brook was sneaking to Copper Creek a week ago. She'd hoped it was the normal good-girl curiosity with the place. Every Diamond Back girl seemed to want to glimpse the forbidden. Some, like her, had done more than that and paid dearly for it.
"Did you go to Coy's house?"
"Yeah."
Madeline nodded, feeling a nerve tic in her forehead. She cleared her throat. "To take him homework?"
"Yeah. We went to his Dad's first, but he sent us to his uncle Mitch's because someone said he stayed there now. He let us right in."
"He would." She felt a kick to her gut at Mitch's name. "I don't want you going out there again."
"Whatever." Brook snorted. "There's nothing dangerous about the place. The way y'all talk, you'd think it was a wicked den of iniquity. It's a town, nothing else."
"The Coburn men own that place. They're wild, it's a rough town and no place for you."
"I've gone to school with some of them. Jason Coburn, Mitch's son, was two years ahead of me. He's a nice guy. So what if they happen to be long, lean, and handsome? You want me to hook up with a car dealer like Dad? I love Dad, but man, even you couldn't live with him."
Madeline reached their house and pulled into the drive. It was a small residence, a little front porch and fenced lot. She put the Bronco in park then switched off the ignition and got out, waiting for Brook to do the same.
Brook ran ahead of her and opened the door with her own key.
Madeline followed her through the house, trying to calm down because she knew she was overreacting. Yet, how could she help it? Her daughter was being drawn to the same family that had destroyed her world at that age.
Leaning against the bedroom door, watching Brook slam her books down again and pick up her bass guitar, she said, "I'm not finished. I want you to promise me you'll stay out of Copper Creek."
Brook looked over her shoulder. "They play down at the Tavern, don't they? The Copper Creek Band? That means you must talk to the Coburn's, what's the big deal with me doing it?"
The Tavern was more than a watering hole, it was a sports bar, a restaurant and in the back a dance club where live bands performed. Madeline shoved her hand through her hair and sighed. Brook had always been a good girl, an honor student and never rebelled. Lately, the way she talked to her grated on Madeline's nerves; she felt as though she was living with a stranger.
"Why are you doing this? We used to be so close."
"You used to be more relaxed." Brook unhooked the strap and placed the instrument on the guitar stand. She flopped on the bed, causing her crop shirt to ride up, exposing the diamond naval stud they'd argued about last year. She clunked her platform shoes together, inspecting Madeline with narrowed eyes, in an assessing way she hated. It made her feel as if she wasn't measuring up.
Brook spoke in a reflective tone, "When you and Daddy divorced, you were happier than you'd been in those first six years. I was too. Both of you were easier to get along with afterwards. I always wondered how a man like Dad ever hooked up with a woman like you."
"What does mean?" A woman like her? Madeline thought sourly. What the hell was suddenly wrong with the woman she was?
Her daughter's gaze traveled over the faded Levi's and black T-shirt, the western boots, which she'd had forever and wore to work. She was only five-five, shorter by two inches than Brook. She had flesh, not scrawny or over-weight, generous in the hips and butt and about average in the bust. Madeline was the mom-next-door in any southern town.
At least, she thought so. Bud was a suit guy, shiny shoes, big car and cell phones. She was down-home, laid back. Yeah, it had been a deplorable match. But Brook had years to deal with that.
"You're so different than him," Brook muttered finally. "And lately, you've been on my ass for everything."
Madeline felt a headache coming on, and felt compelled to defend herself. She knew Bud better than her daughter, and different meant he didn't care what Brook did if it enhanced his image. His strict rules had to do with outward and keeping up with the who's-who crowd. He was a middle-aged car dealer with an over-inflated opinion of himself. It didn't help that women apparently didn't care. Bud had no problem getting women. Admittedly, they were more on looks than brains, but he knew how to wine, dine, and manage them.
She told Brook candidly, "You've been pushing. You know you have. I'm not stupid, if you lived with Bud you'd be going to private school and having friends name Buffy and Chad. We both know he's stricter than I am. All I ask is you stay away from certain places and people. Other than that, I've let you earn a good amount of freedom and trust."
"The Coburn's are the handsomest boys, and men, around, what kind of girl pretends to be blind to that?" Brook snorted and sat up. "They ride those fast pacing horses. Karla said Coy has one called Nimrod, a wild thing. Coy and Jason and some of their cousins played at the school talent show. They're talented, have respectable jobs too. I don't understand what's depraved about them."
After that rushed information dump, Madeline muttered, "They're different." They'd had this conversation before.
"Old Man Coburn left two hundred acres to those men. They live a bit edgier than the rest of us. They own and work in most of the businesses. They play hard, and I-don't-mean-softball. They bust heads and break hearts. They're not for good girls."
"Oh, come on. You work in a tavern. Okay. It's classy, and Sunny Lightfoot is a lawyer. But what if my friends were forbidden to hang out with me because you serve beer?"
"I'm not talking about something that simple." Madeline walked in the room and sat in a neon orange chair. "There are dangers that are hard to put into words. A girl can get swept away by the lure of Copper Creek. Particularly by the Coburn's. They make the rules there. And, old Dovie, their grandma, causes hell for anyone she doesn't personally approve of."
"You sound as if you've been there"
Madeline stood, hiding the jolt that she'd guessed, and not ready to open that door yet. "Just stay out of there. Please."
"I want Coy Coburn."
Madeline closed her eyes and let a long breath escape. "I'll call your Dad to come and get you next week."
Brook went off, "You can't do that. I'm the lead cheerleader! I've got a life and ... hell! Why won't you be reasonable?"
"I'm working in the morning, Brook. You've got all night to come and tell me you're going to obey my wishes. If not, I'm calling your father."
Brook seethed tightly, "I'll stay away. It's stupid, and I think you're being irrational about it."
Madeline nodded, closed the door, heading to her own room. She sat on the edge of the bed, absently looking around. Since Brook was fourteen she'd started prodding her to do the house in shabby chic. She agreed because it didn't require new furnishings and the house had been dark growing up. Unable to keep the lease on the one she'd shared with Bud, Madeline had grit her teeth and moved into this ghost-filled structure, not quite ready to face the past. In celery and cream and rose ... it was at least light.
There had only been her widowed mother and herself during her formative years. Madeline had lived in the world of a manic-depressive, and a phobic. Dealing with her mother's extreme mood swings and phobias left little time for herself. Adell vented on her when her medication was off, then she'd cling to her for dear life.
Mitch Coburn came into Madeline's existence when she'd had nothing for herself. He'd been strong, beautiful, and wild. Mitch embodied the life and freedom she'd never known. He became the center of her existence.
Madeline pinched the bridge of her nose, hearing the muffled sounds of Brook playing her bass along with a CD. She had loved her mom, understood her. But her life had fallen to pieces here and she'd managed to lock all of it away when her mother overdosed. The suicide tormented Madeline, because she had felt emancipated from the constant tumult of Adell's moods. Disturbingly, she'd felt released, with the same kind of peace that mirrored at last on her mother's still face.
The call she'd made to her aunt and uncle in Kentucky, the way she'd married Bud Logan, who was fifteen years her senior--all of it was here, locked up with her last spring and summer with Mitch Coburn.
Madeline paid dearly for one selfless summer out of all those years she'd denied herself. She'd paid more than anyone knew but her aunt and herself...
Reclining on the bed, she studied the ceiling. Twenty years ago, seventeen, a year behind in school, she'd fallen fast for the raven-haired, blue eyed Mitch, and was soon completely wrapped up in his hunger for life and loving. Deprived of nurturing, the secure kind of love, she'd gobbled up everything he'd given her, and completely lost herself in him.
One day they'd been everything to each other. The next, she was the object of scorn and mockery by his family. She'd been his last fling before marrying a better girl, and he hadn't cared enough to break it off himself.
One by one, his grandma Dovie, sister Deena, and eventually his brother Jude, let her know she had no reason to return to Copper creek; Mitch was engaged to Ronda Housewright, the doctor's daughter. Didn't she understand he didn't love her? He was getting cold feet and seeing all kinds of girls. He was over it now. They understood it, Ronda looked the other way. She was a kid and Mitch was twenty-one. He and Ronda were going off to college and marrying in the fall.
Madeline saw Mitch often now, it was unavoidable. His hair was silver, his skin dusky, and his eyes still baby blue and piercing. She could pick his deep husky voice out of a crowd. His family had been well known singers in the area from his grandfather's time.
When he sang ... God, it was velvet and midnight with a touch of rain in it. He'd gotten divorced when his son Jason was eight. Ronda, his ex, had remarried and lived out of state somewhere. Mitch remained single. A lifetime had passed between now and seventeen.
Living in the same area of Tennessee as the man who'd turned her inside out wasn't always easy. She was not going to let Brook make her mistakes. Sure, Dovie was old now. One of her friends was a home health nurse who attended her once a week, said she was bad off. But she never considered going back for seconds.
Madeline didn't read the letter he'd sent when her mom died. By then, his beautiful wife was pregnant with Jason and staying with her Daddy while he finished up college. She wasn't interested in becoming some shady side mistress. And by then she'd made choices which could never be reversed. He'd waited too long to prevent it, if that was his intention. She'd have to live with the heartache the rest of her life.
Madeline had managed to keep them, that family, those choices, at a distance in her thoughts. Now, the Coburn's were going to make her strained relationship with her daughter worse. She may not have done everything right the first time, but she'd be damned if she would stand by and let them shatter Brook's life too. Coy was Mitch's nephew; he was the epitome of the big, handsome, masculine, country boy.
A soft tap drew her out of her reflections. Brook opened the door a few inches and stuck her head in.
"Mom?"
Madeline glanced at the door. "Come in."
Brook entered, holding the phone. "Sunny wants to know if you can fill in for Rocky. Her sister has chemo treatments Saturday morning."
"Sure."
Brook relayed the message then hit the end button on the phone. "I'm going to the carnival with Karla Saturday, remember. Or am I grounded?"
Madeline didn't want to put her on restrictions since she'd promised to obey her wishes. "You can go. Be careful."
"I will." Brook left, dialing another number.
Madeline arose and went to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.
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