Cooper Moon: The Calling: Cooper Moon, #1

By Cheryl Shireman

It is often said that the course of true love never runs smooth. This is certainly the case in the love affair of Cooper and Sally Moon. From the moment she fell in love with Cooper Moon, Sally learned that holding onto the most attractive man in town is never easy. Now, despite a long history of infidelity, in a life-altering moment, Cooper suddenly vows to change his ways. His decision will not only change Sally’s life, but will also have wide-ranging consequences for the entire town.

Filled with an unforgettable cast of characters you are sure to love (and maybe a couple to hate), the story of Cooper Moon will capture your heart from the first page. It is a story about undying love, the many faces of faith, and the many consequences of a single decision. You will not only follow the love story of Cooper and Sally, but also the struggles and triumphs of an intriguing cast of characters.

Jake Barnes - the small-town cop caught between a wife who wants a baby and an ailing mother.

TJ Barnes - Jake’s younger misfit brother who has big dreams and an even bigger heart.

Lucy Miller - naive, young, and the object of TJ’s affection.

Libby Cartwright - drop dead gorgeous and determined to leave town with Cooper Moon.

Ivy Miller - a bitter and angry woman who is plotting revenge.

Frank Collette - the former high school football hero who has his own secrets.

Pete the bartender - while he listens to the woes of the town, trouble is about to fall into his lap.

Perry and Beaulah Potts - the local pastor and his wife are struggling with their own issues.

You will love this story, and you will never forget these characters. Read the sample!

All four books in the Cooper Moon series are now available!
The Calling - The Temptation - The Fall - The Grace

EDITORIAL REVIEWS

"At its core, this is a story about class, karma and ordinary people trying to accomplish difficult goals that require extraordinary strength of body, mind and spirit... a strong, engaging voice ... A satisfying, feel-good novel about human shortcomings, perseverance and serendipity." Kirkus Reviews

“Readers be warned - this book is addictive. Every now and then I come across a book that refuses to be set aside. A book that has me thinking, ‘I can throw a TV dinner in the microwave for the family.’ A book that I read while everyone else in the room is watching one of my favorite television shows. A book that lingers on the edge of my consciousness until I finish the last sentence. Cooper Moon: The Calling by Cheryl Shireman is just such a book.” Paula K. Parker of H.J. Live.

“Ms. Shireman solidly grounds her characters with sincerity and strong personality. There was not a character described that I didn’t feel I knew personally by the end of the book….I cannot give it enough good press. Love, love, love it!” Charlene Mabie-Gamble of Literary R & R

“Enter a cast of characters that are so interesting, so unique—and yet so like yourself and people you know—you won’t want to stop turning the pages. Author Cheryl Shireman is a master at creating intrigue through her characters.” Carolyn Warren

• Language: English
• Publisher: Still Waters Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781625660077

Cheryl Shireman

Cheryl Shireman lives on a lake in the Midwest with her husband. She is the mother of three adult children and the grandmother of the three “most adorable grandchildren in the world.” Her novels are sensitive portrayals of multi-faceted characters. Often humorous, and always thought-provoking, whether focusing on love, finding purpose in life, or a little mystery, Shireman’s novels depict realistic characters facing realistic dilemmas. One reader writes, “Cheryl has a wonderful talent for describing people. Interesting, flawed, multidimensional people. I can picture them so clearly in my mind and some I can almost smell. I love the way her characters are as messed up as real people all are. I can’t wait for more.” She is the author of several bestselling novels including Life Is But a Dream, Broken Resolutions, and the popular Cooper Moon series. Cheryl Shireman is also the author of several titles for children including the I Love You When books and the Curious Toddler series - Let's Learn About. She also enjoys creating coloring books for adults. In her spare time she can be found kayaking on the lake, playing in her flowers, or spoiling grandbabies. Follow on Twitter.com/cherylshireman Follow on Twitter.com/2old2color Follow on Facebook.com/cherylshireman Follow on Facebook.com/cherylshiremanbooks Follow on Facebook.com/2old2color Follow on Facebook.com/coopermoonseries Follow on Instagram.com/cherylshireman Follow on Instagram.com/2old2color Follow on Pinterest.com/cherylshireman

Book preview

Chapter 1

April

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A

n odd thing happened to Cooper Moon during his fortieth year. He stumbled upon God—in a single, drunken, life-altering moment. No one was more skeptical about this abrupt conversion than his long-suffering and often cheated-upon wife, Sally. Perhaps Sally would have been more inclined to believe Cooper during that seminal moment if he had not reeked of urine and beer. It is difficult to give much credence to someone’s sudden declaration of faith when they have clearly pissed their pants.

It was late April, but the Michigan winter refused to release its icy grip. Outside, the ground was unforgiving and the trees surrounding Cooper and Sally’s mobile home were full of baby buds that kept their heads ducked and pulled in tight against the chill. Inside, heat radiated from the dusty woodstove in the living room into the kitchen. Sally had just stirred the embers from last night, opened the damper a little, and loaded it with fresh wood. It was part of her morning routine. As the wood caught fire, it sizzled and cracked, a familiar sound that Sally had come to love. Soon, their small home would be so warm she might have to open a window.

Cooper stumbled through the front door, bringing with him a gasp of crisp air.

Where the hell were you last night? Sally demanded.

I believe in God now!

Turning her attention back to the woodstove, Sally closed the door and secured the handle. Ignoring Cooper, she walked into the kitchen and started to gather the greasy food-covered dishes scattered about the room.

Cooper followed, his snowy work boots clomping against the scratched linoleum floor. Once golden-yellow, the floor was closer to tan now, and in need of cleaning. Cooper waited for Sally to deposit the dirty dishes in the sink and then spun her around to face him. Clutching both of Sally’s elbows to anchor her to him, he tried to hold her gaze. Sally. His breath smelled of stale beer and was warm against her face. She looked away from him as he spoke. Did you hear what I said? he asked.

You still weren’t home at four. I heard a noise and got up to check.

Did you look in the driveway?

No. I looked in the garage.

I might have been in the driveway, Cooper said.

"You don’t know if you were in the driveway or not?" Sally looked back into his eyes, a dangerous move.

I woke up in the driveway. So I was there at some point.

"When you say in the driveway, does that mean that you were in the car in the driveway, or that you were just lying out there in the middle of the driveway?"

In the car, Sally. In the car, in the driveway. Did you even hear what I said?

You said you were in the driveway. Snow began to melt from his boots, wetting the toes of her socks.

No! Before that!

You said you believe in God now.

Yes! I believe in God now! Cooper’s dark blue eyes brimmed with tears and his words were urgent.

Sally turned from Cooper and looked out the window above the sink. A white five-gallon bucket had blown into their yard. She concentrated on the bucket as a determined wind rocked it against the frosted grass, the handle preventing the bucket from rolling over. Yeah. That’s what you said. Where the hell were you last night? Before the driveway.

Bass Turds. The oddly named establishment sported a huge fiberglass fish over the entrance. The fish was actually a replica of a salmon, not a bass, but no patron had ever complained about the discrepancy, for the beer was ice cold and the wings were hot. Cecil Braden was there. We were talking about heaven and hell, and he started telling me about his cousin Dan who went to this church six months ago.

Sally pulled from Cooper’s grip, moved the short distance to the kitchen table, and continued gathering up the dirty dishes that had been collecting there for the past three days. The white vinyl-covered paneling on the wall behind her was decorated with pale-brown images of fruit. The French word for each was positioned below every image. Citron. Cerise. Poire. Pomme. A homemade dark-brown macramé owl hung on the wall, clutching a gnarled piece of wood Sally had found in the woods. It watched her with plastic bead eyes as she moved about the small room.

You know, it wouldn’t kill you to wash a dish every now and then. Sally was a beautiful woman, although sometimes she had a hard time remembering that. And most of the time it wasn’t worth the effort required to pull it off. It felt like a talent she had once possessed but lost from lack of use. Life was easier if she wasn’t beautiful, if she didn’t appear to be trying.

Cecil says his cousin Dan went to this church and the preacher told everyone if they said this prayer God would come right into them. Of course, I didn’t believe that. So I told Braden that he was full of S, H, I, T and he says no he isn’t and that if I don’t believe him I can just talk to his cousin, Dan. He says Dan quit drinking and he’s giving most of his money to this church now. So I ask Cecil, ‘What kind of prayer can change a man like that?’ And he says that it’s almost like a magic prayer. That all you gotta do is say these words in a prayer and God will come right into you.

Sally moved to the sink, ran hot water over the stack of dishes, and squirted a generous amount of lemon-scented generic dish soap directly under the stream of water. Picking up a sponge from the white Formica counter, she plunged her hands into the fragrant suds and began washing the dishes.

Cooper moved to her side and talked to her profile. So I tell him no D, A, M, magic prayer is gonna make God come into me, and I dared him to tell me the prayer. So, right there, in the middle of Bass Turds, Cecil said this prayer and I closed my eyes and bowed my head and repeated it right after him—just to show him that there ain’t no such prayer. And you’ll never guess what happened!

The magic prayer worked and you believed in God. Sally flipped the sponge over to the scratchy side and scrubbed at a piece of dried egg yolk. She resisted the urge to tell him he forgot the n in damn.

Yes! It did. I opened my eyes and I felt like a new man. Kind of warm and soft inside. Sorta like if you squished love and joy and peace all up into a ball and swallowed it. And I haven’t even said one curse word since it happened, with the exception of the two that I just spelled out to you, and they don’t count. Sally! Did you hear me? I’m a new man. I believe in God. Because I said that prayer.

Was that before or after you pissed yourself?

Cooper pulled at Sally’s arm until she was facing him and looking into his eyes. They both knew this was when she was the weakest. Even in his current condition, Cooper Moon was not without charm. He could not be described as gorgeous, but perhaps right next door to gorgeous, which made him even more dangerous, because such a man seemed within reach.

Dressed only in an oversized knee-length tee shirt she often wore as pajamas, Sally wished she had pulled on a pair of jeans this morning. She needed more of a barrier between her skin and his. Sally. His voice was lowered now, all throaty and whispery and beyond her ability to resist. Sally looked into his eyes and was helpless. The wet sponge in her hand dripped between the two of them, and her knees felt weak. Cooper’s long arms, tanned brown and ropy with muscle, wrapped around her. One of his hands sank into her hair and cradled the back of her head; the other rested on the small of her back. Baby, I’m telling you. I’m a changed man. My heart is ... full. I’ll never cheat on you again. I’m giving up drinking. I’ll be home every night. I’m finally the man you always wanted me to be.

Sally leaned into him and found his mouth, devouring his words with hungry kisses.

I’m going to build a church, Sally, he said between her lips and tongue. But she did not hear him. Soon after, when she cried out, Oh God, in the tiny bedroom of their mobile home, Cooper heard it as a prayer.

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Chapter 2

April

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A

lways near the front of the line, Libby Cartwright punched out at the time clock, dropped her card into the vertical steel rack, and bolted in the direction of the door. She wanted to run, but she had been warned twice about that already. Hurrying between the yellow painted lines of the factory aisles, she tossed a couple of half-hearted waves to the new shift of familiar faces standing at the die-cast machines but took no time to speak. She rushed past more machines, the heavy presses thumping a familiar rhythm as she made her escape. Smoke hung high in the metal framework ceiling, and the acrid aroma of molten metal filled the air. It was a scent Libby despised. It invaded her clothes, her hair, and sometimes her dreams. Reaching the heavy grey metal door, she slammed the heel of her hand against it to swing it open, and broke free into the sunlit parking lot. She felt almost giddy, as if new possibilities had just been revealed to her for the very first time. It felt like this every morning—like an escape, as if another life might be possible.

If she had been born to parents who were not suicidal, Libby might have been a model. As a child, she had dreamed of walking a runway, but by the time she was fifteen, Libby learned dreams were only interruptions to sleep, and they often came in the form of nightmares full of blood and the jolt of gunshots. Perhaps life would have been easier, afterward, if she had not been the one to find them.

Libby was strikingly beautiful, but she concealed that beauty like a jewelry box hidden under a pile of rumbled clothes in the bottom of a closet. She never wore makeup, dressed in baggy grey clothes, and walked with her head down, seldom making eye contact. She went unnoticed, like a thief in the night. Except that she was not out to steal anything. Libby only wanted to be left alone. She did not want to be noticed at all. Being noticed always brought problems.

In the six years since she had moved to Timber Lake, only one person had ever really noticed her—noticed everything about her, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. She had not planned on letting him in, but there was no warning, like a sudden summer storm that catches you unaware and leaves you drenched. She’d had no time to batten down the hatches. He had caught her off guard. He was unavoidable. Inescapable. Like gravity.

Libby reached her pickup, the once-red Chevy faded from the sun and blotched with rust. She pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, unleashing an unruly wave of auburn locks that fell loose about her shoulders. Bending over, she shook her head and ran a hand through her hair to remove the metal shavings. Her mind was on him. He would be kissing her soon. She thought about the way he first placed his hands on either side of her face before he kissed her that first time. Standing in the parking lot, she could feel those hands tangled in her hair, and she ached for his touch. Soon, she told herself. Soon. Balanced against the truck with one hand, Libby untied her steel-toed work boots and pulled the boots off with the other. Pulling her damp socks off with her fingertips, she stuffed each sock into a boot, and then dropped the boots into the bed of the truck.

The paved parking lot felt cold against her shriveled, damp feet, and the loose gravel dug into her heels. After unlocking the truck, she sat on the edge of the ripped seat and wiped the gravel from her feet. A pair of bright-pink flip-flops awaited her on the seat. Swinging her legs into the truck, she then slid the flip-flops on, slammed the truck door, and started the engine. She turned on the heater and then the stereo, backed from her parking space, and pulled from the parking lot, listening to Bon Jovi singing about living on a prayer. If she drove straight home, she could be there before the song was over, but she turned in the opposite direction, taking the long way home. Again.

It was silly, really. She’d be seeing him in less than two hours. But there was no reason not to drive past his house. No one would know. What would it hurt? And it wasn’t as if anyone was waiting on her at home. Her double-wide had three bedrooms, but hers was the only one with a bed. What difference did it make?

She stopped at the gas station for a bag of Cheetos and a Mountain Dew.

Hey, Libby, Willie Hallock said as he rang up her purchases at the counter.

Hey, Willie. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her out again. She didn’t feel like dealing with him this morning. Thanks. See ya. She stuffed the change into the pocket of her jeans and hurried toward the door.

Have a good one, Libby! Willie called after her, the screen door snapping shut to punctuate his last word.

Back in the truck, Libby took a long drink from the cold bottle and opened up the bag. As she drove in the opposite direction from her home, she ate breakfast.

Libby loved this time of the day. The morning grass was damp with remnants of frost, people were beginning to move about, and the new sun, still fresh and low in the sky, seemed full of promise. It was the only time of day she let herself believe that hope was not just a salve for the weak-minded. She drove along, munching and drinking, and in that exact second, felt content. The smell of the factory clung to her clothes, but she wasn’t there now. And if Libby Cartwright had learned anything in life, it was the ability to enjoy now. All too often, yesterday and tomorrow were unbearable. She lived in the moment. One moment after another, and before you knew it you had gotten through your whole week. Your whole life.

It wasn’t until she turned down his road, just a short time later, that her body went on full alert. Libby could feel that familiar clutching in her stomach, her heart beating against her throat, her hands shaking slightly, the eager anticipation as she scanned for any sight of him long before she reached his house. It was a dead-end dirt road, and her truck was kicking up a trail of dust. She slowed down a bit, hoping to escape notice. His truck was there, in the driveway. Just the sight of it made her happy. The garage door was open, and when she crept past she could see Sally’s car parked inside. Her heart sank a little. As she turned around near the railroad tracks, just a short distance past Cooper’s house, she felt ashamed. But that shame did not prevent her from looking toward the mobile home again when she drove back past, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

She did not.

Oh well, she told herself. She’d be in his arms soon enough. Before nine, he had told her.

Libby had met Cooper a little over two years before. The roof of her double-wide had been leaking and she’d needed someone to fix it. A coworker at the factory had given her Cooper’s number, and he was at her house the next day. The roof was fixed by noon. Libby had hardly noticed he was there and was surprised when he finished the repair so quickly. Cooper had knocked on her door and she let him in while she made out the check. It was a hot day.

Want some water? She’d offered him a bottle.

He sat in a chair by the door and she on the couch across the room, balancing the checkbook on her knee.

How much? Libby had looked over at Cooper, waiting on his answer. She’d barely noticed him until that moment.

His eyes locked on hers as he brought the water bottle to his lips. He drank from it. He drank from her.

Unable to look away, Libby watched. Stunned. Transfixed. Suddenly weak with desire.

Placing the bottle on a nearby table, Cooper stood, walked across the room, and dropped to his knees before her. He had cradled her head in his hands, sinking his fingers into her hair and pulling her mouth to his. The moat broached by surprise, her barricaded castle wall crumbled. Libby surrendered to his touch, to his mouth, and then to his silent suggestion as he pulled her to the floor.

Afterward, both of them satiated and soaked in sweat, without a word he had scooped her from the floor and carried her to bed. They had fallen asleep like two spoons in a drawer, her back to his chest, his arm draped over her hip. Hours later, when Libby woke to the touch of his tongue upon the back of her neck, she had kept her eyes closed, afraid she might be dreaming. She was not. They made love again. Slowly and gently. Cooper so tender with her, just the opposite of how he’d been on the floor. And she had loved it all: the tenderness of his touch, his hands rough upon her as he changed their position, not knowing what to expect next. Like a roller coaster he brought her, over and over again, up to the top of the hill, only to rush back down—the excitement and tension building and building until the last slow climb to the top of an impossibly steep summit, and then the wild ride down, with her crying out in pleasure, his lips upon her mouth muffling the sound. And then more sleep. When she had awoken that first morning, Cooper was gone.

Libby hadn’t found out he was married until the next day. She was furious. As a child, she’d seen the results of infidelity in her parents’ marriage, and it was one thing she swore she’d never be part of. But by day’s end, as she stood in the factory, loading parts, pushing buttons, unloading parts, Libby convinced herself Cooper’s wife did not understand him, did not love him. They were probably even close to divorcing. By the end of the week, she discovered none of that was true. His wife did love him. She did understand him. And they were not on the verge of divorce. But, by then, it was too late for Libby to pull away. By that time, she didn’t care. All she cared about was having Cooper’s hands on her body again, feeling his mouth against hers, and falling asleep in his arms one more night. That’s all that mattered. The only time she felt alive was in Cooper’s arms.

Libby stood on the small piece of vinyl flooring just inside the door of her double-wide, stripped off her jeans and tee shirt, and dropped them into a cardboard box behind the door. It was the only way to keep metal shavings from spreading all over the house. Clad in bra and panties, she rushed toward the bathroom and turned on the shower. Removing her undergarments, she then tossed them into the hamper and stepped into the shower. Cold water splashed against her shins. Libby adjusted the water until it was so hot she could barely stand it. Her skin turned red and the stall filled with steam. First she washed her hair and rinsed it, and then covered it with conditioner. While the conditioner worked its magic, she lathered her body with soap and then stepped back under the showerhead. She closed her eyes and raised her face. The spraying water made it difficult to breathe. Libby opened her mouth and took in a mouthful of water, hot against her teeth. She spat it against the shower wall and then placed a hand against the wall to steady herself. She stood there for a moment, head bowed, while the conditioner rinsed from her hair and the water ran down her back and over her legs. Slightly aroused, Libby thought of Cooper. Soon. He will be here soon, she reminded herself. She smiled as she reached up and turned off the water.

She toweled off quickly, wrapped the damp towel around her body, and wrapped a fresh towel around her hair. Then she rushed to the living room, water dripping from her body, and withdrew her cell phone from her dirty jeans. No missed calls. But that was not a surprise. Cooper rarely called. He did not have a cell phone; he couldn’t afford one. He and Sally did have a house phone, but he seldom used it. Libby checked the front door to make sure it was unlocked. It was. She sighed. Maybe she’d take a quick nap before he arrived. She relished the thought of him waking her from sleep and smiled in anticipation as she walked back down the hall toward the bedroom.

Cooper woke hours later, long after Sally had left to work the lunch shift at Annie’s Diner. He rolled over, stretched against the nubby, pale-blue sheets, and scratched at his crotch. His tongue felt as if it was wrapped in cotton and he found it difficult to swallow. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to remember what was special about this day. It was something good. Something ... exciting. And then he remembered.

He believed in God now.

And he was going to build a church. The realization was enough to propel him from the bed and into the shower, even if his first couple of steps were sideways.

Standing under the showerhead, he lathered his entire body with Zest twice, and washed his hair twice too. Cooper felt the need to be extra clean today.

He toweled off, pulled on a pair of black boxer shorts from the dresser drawer, and then returned to the bathroom and picked his pissy pants up off the floor, hunting in the pockets for his wallet. It was not there. Nor was it in any of the three remaining pockets. Checking all four pockets again, he tried to remember where he went after he left Bass Turds. A lot of the night was fuzzy, like a television show with bad reception. The last thing he remembered was asking Violet if he could pray for her. He couldn’t even remember her response.

With a frown, he turned and walked out the front door, down the steps, and to his truck. As soon as the cold air hit him, he realized this might not have been the wisest decision. The thirty-year-old mobile home sat on eighty-four acres on a dead-end road, and the closest house was nearly a mile away. But even if there had been another house across the road, Cooper would not have bothered to put pants on before going outside; he never was hindered by modesty. Moving barefoot across the cold gravel driveway, he grimaced, his arms jerking outward with every step. At the truck, he climbed up into the cab to give his tender feet a break while he searched the glove compartment, the seat crack, behind the seat, and under the seat. The search turned up a couple of quarters and a pair of black lace panties. He held the panties in his hand for a moment and tried to remember where he had seen them last. Or who had been wearing them. He could not.

An odd feeling washed over him. Initially, he could not identify it. Then he realized what it was—remorse. Remorse and anxiety. He had never felt either. It took him a few minutes to connect the feeling with his recent conversion. Cooper stared at the panties and pondered the immensity of the moment. He was a changed man. God was inside him. He could feel it. He would have to give that some more thought.

But now, he had to find a way to get rid of these panties before Sally found them. And find his wallet. And one more thing—find a Bible. He couldn’t start a church without a Bible, and he didn’t own one. Since he still had not found his wallet, he couldn’t even buy one. He knew where he could get one, though.

Libby Cartwright owned a Bible. In the summer, when the windows of her mobile home were open, the suction often pulled the lightweight bedroom door shut. Libby used a Bible to prop the door open. It was the only book on her shelf big enough to do the job. On more than one sweaty summer night, Cooper Moon had reached over his head, pulled the Bible from the headboard bookshelf and tossed the book against the foot of the door.

He walked through the sharp gravel back to the trailer, wondering if Libby was home. Probably. And probably sleeping. As he walked up the steps, he tried to remember what day it was. Was it Monday or Tuesday? Crap! he said as soon as he realized it was neither. It was Wednesday. It had to be. Last night’s Tuesday night special at Bass Turds was Long Island Iced Teas. He’d had four. Crap! he said again as he hurried inside and looked toward the kitchen and at the clock on the oven. Earlier in the week he told Libby he’d stop by on Wednesday, before nine. It was almost 4:30 in the afternoon.

Cooper dressed quickly and drove his ’84 Chevy Silverado the short distance to Libby’s house. The truck was actually a variety of trucks. The bed was dark primer grey, the body was red, and the hood and doors were two-tone blue and white. Rust pitted every color, forming at least some sort of consistency. It had a lift kit on it for clearing underbrush in the woods, and a winch in the front in case Cooper buried it in the mud, which happened more than he liked to admit, especially during the spring. Water flooded through the floorboard if he drove through a deep mud puddle, but in the dry summer months, that wasn’t much of a problem.

As he drove, he tried to think of a plausible lie to tell Libby. Then he remembered that he believed in God now and couldn’t lie anymore. How in the world was he going to do that? Libby would never believe the truth. The truth was: he’d simply forgotten. No woman in the world wanted to be told that she’d been forgotten. How was he going to pull this off? He pulled up in front of Libby’s double-wide and left the keys in the ignition; one of the benefits of living in the small town of Timber Lake, Michigan. Everyone knew Cooper’s truck so why bother stealing it?

Libby met Cooper at the door. What do you want? She struggled to hide her excitement and tried to look angry, forcing him to stand on the portable concrete steps and look up at her.

Hey, Libby. How are ya?

It’s almost five. You said you’d be here before nine.

This was not going well. Cooper thought he might as well give it a shot and try something else. He pulled the black lace panties from the back pocket of his jeans and held them out to her. I found your underwear in my truck.

Libby looked at the panties and then looked back at Cooper. Those aren’t mine.

Oh... Cooper looked at the panties for a moment and then wadded them up and stuffed them back into his pocket. I’m sorry I’m late. I ... the truth is ... I forgot. I’ve been sleeping.

With who?

No, really. I got home late last night, I guess, and I fell back asleep this morning. Just woke up less than half an hour ago. Could I come in? I need to talk to you.

Libby tried to look angry, but it was difficult. Her heart was beating wildly. Here he was, on her doorstep again, wanting in. She must have looked at her cell phone fifty times today, looked out the window a hundred, waiting. She had paced back and forth, cussed him aloud, worried he might have been killed in an accident, and then worried that

Reviews for Cooper Moon

[cmtruxler_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Cooper Moon The Calling Shines a Light on Small Town LifeLife in a small town leaves no anonymity to be found. Secrets never stay secret, and once the close-knit occupants form an opinion, that stance is rarely changed. Death by association is easily gained, and there is little hope of life after such a demise. In all fairness, since some readers have an aversion to religious-based works, it must be said that the novel carries a large religious base with it. However, this element does not color the entire tale, but it does exist. The characters emanate a life force all their own, and readers familiar with the small town atmosphere will recognize every character although perhaps by another name. The main character, Cooper Moon, is a ne’er-do-well blindly feeling his way through changes he must make. Life elements are carried by word of mouth through the community, and there is no escape. Inhabitants range from arrogant to desperate and passed those traits on to vengeful. These are characters readers will love, hate, or love to hate, but all are almost uncomfortably realistic. The plot is well thought out and straightforward. The language is simple daily speech. Readers will find the work an easy read, but not so much so, that one flounders on the surface of the tale without delving deeper. All things said it was a good read with much potential. It will be interesting to see where Cheryl Shireman takes the inhabitants of Timberlake next.