East of Eaton (7-Chapter Excerpt)

East of Eaton: Chapter One

Erica leaned against the kitchen sink, a scrap of paper clenched in one hand, the telephone in the other.

A sleepy voice rumbled through the line. "Hello?"

"This is Erica Moore. My daughter and your son have gone out tonight without my permission. I want her home immediately," she said, the final word clipped with impatience.

"My son?"

She ignored the question. "My daughter works with Brian at the pool. I don't mind their friendship, but she's only sixteen and I won't have her running around with boys."

"Uhhhh ...."

Infuriated by the man's soft exhalation, she curled her free hand into a fist, wishing she could reach through the phone wires. She heard a rustling on the line, as if the man were rolling over in bed.

"Look, Mrs. ..., what did you say your name is?"

"Moore. My daughter is out with your son. Brian needs to bring her home now!" she reiterated, pacing the kitchen floor.

"Mrs. Moore...."

"Ms."

"Sorry, Ms. Moore," he corrected himself with a trace of sarcasm. "Brian is not my son. He's my nephew."

She rolled her eyes. "May I speak with his father, then?"

"I'm afraid not. His parents are on a missionary trip to Africa."

"Well, if I can't speak with his father or mother, I'd like to speak with him. Does he have a cell phone?"

"Uh, maybe. I think so. I've never had to call him. When he comes home, I'll talk to him." The man yawned.

Erica held the receiver away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. Then she snarled. "Don't be ridiculous! I've told you that my daughter is in trouble and you're going to wait for him to 'come home' before you do anything?"

"I'm confused? Is she on a date or is she in trouble?"

"Both! She is too young to be out with Brian."

"What would you like me to do?"

"Jump off a cliff, you jerk! I'll handle this."

She slammed the telephone onto its wall mount and grabbed her car keys from a hook by the bulletin board. She stepped into the foyer and opened the front door of the Colonial home of her childhood. She paused, then turned towards the stairwell. "Dad, I'll be back," she yelled up the stairs. "I'm going to find Daisy. I've got my cell phone if she gets home before me."

Walt Moore poked his head out the door of his upstairs study, his fingers caught between the pages of a book, holding his place. "Is everything alright?"

"No. Everything's not all right. Daisy is out on a date without permission. I'm going to find that boy and wring his little neck," she said, her voice rising in frustration. "Then I'm going to wring hers."

"Honey, calm down. She's fine, and probably having a good time."

"There is no way I'm letting her go out with some boy she hardly knows."

"Well, how else is she supposed to get to know him?"

"Dad!" she shrieked. "Errrhhhh!"

Slamming the door closed behind her, she stomped down the dark sidewalk to her car. Once inside, she turned the key and gunned the engine. She slid the transmission into reverse and started backing out when another car turned into the driveway. She hit her brakes, the small car rocking.