Bluegrass Dawn: Bluegrass Single #2 (Bluegrass Singles) by Kathleen Brooks

heads.
    “It looks great, Layne. Don’t listen to those brats.”
    “Reagan, don’t say mean things about your brothers. Someday you’ll love them,” Gemma said for the hundredth time.
    Miles shook his head. His brown hair had gray at the temples now. He’d gotten it when he turned fifty a couple of years back. “Nope. I got a plan for that. I’m locking her in the basement until she’s thirty.”
    Katelyn, Morgan, and Layne all rolled their eyes at him. They all thought he was joking. He had been until a boy had called the house the other day wanting to talk to Layne.
    “Don’t worry, Layne. Your aunts and I will make sure he’ll let you out once or twice a year,” Morgan teased.
    Over the years together, she and Miles had become centered. They’d done that to each other. The anxiety and demons of the past had been buried. Now there was laughter and happiness. Even when they’d been unable to have any more children, it had only brought them closer as a family. Now that Morgan was also on the other side of fifty, they accepted it was just the three of them. Layne was their light and they were at every sporting event, every debate, and every choir performance. They loved every moment. They wouldn’t change their life for anything.
     
    Cy tossed an anxious look to Gemma. “You’ll visit me in jail, right?”
    Gemma looked up from where she was telling Porter and Parker to eat their pie rather than smear it on each other. “Cy, we’ve talked about this. It’s no big deal. You did it when you where their age.”
    “I know,” Cy grumbled, “Which is why I know Reagan and Riley should be in the basement with Layne.”
    Gemma just shook her head as their daughters groaned, “Dad.”
    “Honey, are you happy? Have you eaten your pie?”
    “Yes,” Cy answered contentedly.
    “Good. I’ve agreed to let the twins go out with a bunch of other kids to the movies next week,” Gemma said calmly.
    “What?!” Cy shot up from the table. “Give me their names, social security numbers—no, never mind, I don’t need social security numbers. Names and birthdates, now!”
    “Cyland Davies!” Marcy scolded. “Your daughters are more than capable of going out in a group." Turning to her granddaughters, Marcy asked,  "Reagan, what do you do if a boy pushes for a kiss that you don’t want?”
    “Tell him no,” Reagan said around a bite of pie.
    “And if he doesn’t take no for an answer?” Marcy pressed.
    “Kick him in the balls,” Reagan responded.
    “Right. And if he really won’t take no for an answer or you can’t kick him in the balls, what do you do, Riley?”
    “Knock him out with a well-placed punch to the jaw, temple, or back of the head,” Riley answered as Aunt Annie gave her a thumbs-up.
    “Layne, if someone is doing something you’re not comfortable with, what do you do?” Marcy continued to ask.
    “Call my dad. If he’s not home, my mom. And if I can’t get them, then you and Grandpa or any of my aunts and uncles. But I’d probably call Uncle Ahmed first. The kids are scared of him the most.”
    “They’re more scared of him than me?” Cy asked, slightly wounded.
    Layne nodded. “And Aunt Annie. She scares them. They heard rumors of the things she used to do with Aunt Bridget.”
    Annie looked proud as Miles and Cy looked resigned. The cousins looked at each other with triumph in their eyes. They had won the first dating battle.
     
    The conversation around Annie took over. The group talked about dating, boys, girls, teenagers, and driving. Gone were the days where it was talk of dark things such as drugs, dog fighting, and terrorists. A part of her longed to kick a little ass, but she was secure in the fact that she’d taught Sophie everything she knew.
    Annie leaned over to Cade and he put his arm around her. Annie grinned to herself. Predictable. He thought she wanted to snuggle. Instead, Annie stabbed her fork into his pie and ate a huge piece.
    “Sucker,” she said as