Better Than This: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  “Said the person being interviewed on the evening news when something bad and unexpected happens in small towns across the country.” He paused and scratched his jaw. He needed a shave and the sound his fingers made against his five-o’clock shadow sounded oddly appealing. I wondered for a split second if I could replicate the sound with my nails. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?” he asked.

  “No. Well, kind of, but not really. I used to shoot my grandfather’s old shotgun at coffee cans when I was a kid.” The memory rushed over me and I smiled wistfully. “He used to have to stand behind me so I didn’t get knocked on my butt.”

  “Do you still have the gun?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t need it. I keep a baseball bat the previous owners left behind the front door,” I informed him as I reached for a napkin and wiped a spot on the table where my cup had left a ring.

  “An aluminum bat isn’t going to provide the kind of protection you’d need if someone invaded your home.” He sounded almost aggravated. “Why don’t you let me teach you how to shoot? I have a handgun you could practice with. You can even keep it.”

  His offer surprised me. I hadn’t thought about learning to use a gun. Richard had been vehemently opposed to guns and I always thought I was too. Until now.

  “Can I think about it?” I asked, while checking my watch. I was due at Dr. Tucker’s clinic soon and I didn’t think it was the kind of decision I wanted to make on the spot.

  Jake gave me a brisk nod before lifting his coffee cup to his lips. As I watched him take a healthy swig, my eyes wandered to his neck.

  “That’s an interesting place to get a tattoo,” I remarked.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t always make the best decisions when I was a kid.”

  “Why wasn’t it a good decision?” I asked. I was curious what he had to say about it.

  “It’s kind of hard to impress a potential employer with a scary-looking skull staring at them over your collar. And since I’m not into turtlenecks…” He sniffed and added, “Well, like I said, it wasn’t the best decision I made when I was younger.”

  “I guess if you were going to use a tattoo to cover something up, it would’ve been understandable.” I reached for my cup and brought it to my mouth. Before taking a drink, I tilted my head sideways and observed the flames that came out from each side of the skull and made their way up the side of his neck.

  His expression registered mild surprise. He sat back against the booth and scrubbed his hand down his face. Taking a deep breath he pitched forward, placing his elbows on the table. “I can see why you thought I was Kenny Pritchard. I saw his mug shot and I know why you might think my tattoo is covering something.”

  “I—"

  He lifted his right hand, interrupting me. “I was curious about him after I started working at the assisted living facility. Especially after Jonathan kept calling me Kenny. I looked him up and I agree with you, Barbie.” He quickly interjected, “Is it okay if I call you Barbie? I won’t do it at work, but it feels weird calling you Dr. Anderson right now.”

  “Barbie is fine. And I’m not the one who insists on being called Dr. Anderson at Hampton House. That’s Sheila’s rule. Not mine.”

  His expression was one of empathy when he said, “What I’m trying to say is I get it.”

  “Well, you’re the only one who gets it,” I snorted.

  “Our eyes, facial features, and jawlines are somewhat alike.” He gave what appeared to be a thoughtful pause. “I saw the similarities in his mug shot to my younger self. We were close to the same age too.”

  “I appreciate you telling me that.” I meant it. I knew for certain he wasn’t Kenny Pritchard and something inside me felt a sliver of satisfaction knowing he didn’t think I was completely ridiculous for assuming he was when I’d first met him.

  “Besides, if I wasn’t convinced of it before, I am after having breakfast with you,” I said with an awkward grin. I looked at my watch again. “I’m not trying to be rude, but I have to get to work.” I grabbed my laptop and purse and scooted out of the booth.

  For someone so tall and wide he moved with a swiftness that surprised me. He was on his feet before I was and offered me his hand. I took it without thinking and thanked him for the coffee. I didn’t reply when he said he’d like to do it again.

  As I walked away he asked, “What did I say that convinced you I’m not Kenny?” I turned around to face him. His eyes were sincere and warm and I almost considered not telling him for fear of sounding stupid.

  “It wasn’t anything you said,” I replied as I used my free hand to dig in my purse for my keys.

  “Okay, what was it?” he asked as I once again turned to the door to leave.

  I slowly shook my head and told him, “The real Kenny Pritchard would never have ordered and eaten blueberry pancakes in front of me.”

  Hours later I was stitching up a construction worker who’d sliced his hand open when something occurred to me. All morning I’d been mentally wading through the sea of dialogue I’d had with Jake at the diner. And no matter how many times I’d recalled our conversation, I couldn’t for the life of me remember telling him that the baseball bat I kept behind my front door was aluminum.

  Chapter 9

  The Extraordinary Interpreter of Secret Glances

  Little by little my house started to feel like home. I had to admit there was a smug satisfaction in turning Juanita Anderson’s run-down farmhouse into the place I intended to permanently call home. But, if I was honest, I wasn’t doing it to spite the grandmother who’d made my life miserable. I was doing it for myself. And since I didn’t plan on or foresee having a man in my future, I felt I was restoring the place as a tribute to the only two men in my life who’d honestly loved me. My father and grandfather.

  It was the little things in the renovation that brought me joy. Like making sure the painter clear-sealed the closet doorjamb where the markings of my father’s growth spurts had been recorded. I’d discovered them when I was measuring the interior of the closet in his former bedroom. I couldn’t bring myself to have the painter erase that small piece of my dad’s childhood, so when he suggested covering it with a sealant to preserve it, I quickly agreed.

  I’d decided to turn that room into a combination office and guest room. Too bad I couldn’t think of one person who might ever stay in it. Before I let that thought bring me down, I quickly rinsed out my coffee cup and dashed out the front door. It was Sunday morning, and after my weekly visit with Jonathan, Darlene and I were going to hit a few flea markets further west. I jumped in my Jeep and headed for the assisted living facility.

  I was in Jonathan’s room finishing up our fifteenth game of checkers when I heard, “I thought that was your car outside. Nice to see you, Dr. Anderson.”

  As I turned to greet the familiar voice, Jonathan started clapping and chanting, “Barbie and Ken. Barbie and Ken.”

  I stood and began to collect the checkers. “I didn’t think you worked on Sundays.”

  He walked toward us and high-fived Jonathan before answering. “Normally I don’t, but today was a special case.”

  “Oh?”

  “One of our residents is a retired fireman who’s been confined to his bed for a few years now. You probably remember him from when you covered rounds that day,” he added. “He didn’t like me at first because of…you know, how I look.” He laughed before saying, “But, he came around and we’ve been buddies ever since. Anyway, his normal bath day is Thursday, and I’m the only one who can lift him using the sling without hurting him.” I nodded and he continued. “For whatever reason, they had to reschedule his bath to today and I knew he wasn’t going to like it. He can be feisty and I knew he’d be trouble if anyone else tried to lift him. I dropped in to help out.”

  “That’s so nice of you to come in on your day off.” I tried not to show how impressed I was with his kindness toward one of the residents, and an ornery one at that. He was right, I did remember the man an
d he had given me a hard time. Apparently, Jake had managed to soften him. That was admirable.

  I finished putting the checkers away and addressed Jonathan. “You know Darlene will be here soon so I have to go. But I promise to come back on Wednesday for bingo with you and Cindy.” His answer was a big smile and a tight hug.

  “I’m going to walk Dr. Anderson out, big guy,” Jake told him. “I’ll be back to see you.”

  We left Jonathan’s room and headed down the hallway side by side. I hadn’t seen Jake in two weeks—since we’d had coffee at the diner.

  I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “How did you know my baseball bat was aluminum?” I looked sideways at him, but my question hadn’t phased him.

  He shrugged nonchalantly and said, “The bat you told me you keep behind your front door?” Without waiting for me to reply he casually answered, “I didn’t think about it. I figured it would be wooden or aluminum. I had an aluminum one when I was a kid.”

  It was as good an answer as any. “You play baseball?”

  “Played,” he said with emphasis. “Little League was a way of life for me growing up.”

  “Did you grow up in Texas?” It was an assumption I’d made based on his prison record.

  He stopped and turned to me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Had I crossed a line? Did he have something to hide?

  “Let’s do coffee again and I’ll tell you about my childhood and you can tell me about yours. No blueberry pancakes this time. I promise.” His eyes seemed to be filled with regret. He was remembering my feelings toward my least favorite breakfast without even knowing the reason behind it. He wasn’t making fun of my disdain for blueberry pancakes. He was respecting it. I felt a warmth in my belly. Perhaps Jake Chambers with his scary prison tattoos and offensive gas tank wasn’t such a bad guy. I wanted to accept his invitation but wasn’t sure how much I cared to share about my miserable upbringing.

  In the end, my hesitation to answer may have saved me some embarrassment. I was a millisecond away from asking what morning he wanted to meet when something caught his eye and he looked away. I followed his gaze and it landed on one of the LPNs on duty. It looked like she’d been trying to get his attention. Her name was Yvonne. She was probably in her mid-forties, and an attractive brunette with the whitest teeth I’d ever seen. She had a shapely figure and I was certain her oversized chest wasn’t a result of surgery. However, it was obvious that her tan was store-bought.

  She looked at Jake with an apologetic smile. “They asked me to stay a little longer. Do you mind waiting for me?”

  He shook his head and said, “No, I’m in no hurry. We can leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  My disappointment was staggering. Well, at least he graduated from liking giggly girls to women, I thought as I tried to grapple with my feelings. I was wondering what Dolly thought of the competition when Yvonne said, “I made your favorite dinner. It’s in the Crock-Pot and I can’t be sure, but I think it’s going to turn out pretty good.”

  Just then, a familiar voice asked, “Why aren’t you answering your texts?”

  I looked past Jake and saw Darlene bounding toward me with a smile. “I’ve been standing out front waiting for you.” She’d attended her regular Sunday morning church service in Pumpkin Rest and had her oldest son drop her at the assisted living facility so we could drive together.

  “I didn’t get a text,” I answered honestly, secretly grateful that she’d rescued me from having to turn down Jake’s invitation to coffee. I pasted on a smile and said, “It looks like I’m out of here. Have a great day.” I took off without giving him a chance to reply.

  As we drove to Pickens County, Darlene interrogated me about my visits to Hampton House, but she was mostly interested in Jake. I told her why he was there on his day off and she was just as impressed as I’d been.

  “And you haven’t seen Jake before today?” she inquired. “Not since the diner?”

  “Nope. Haven’t seen him since.” I adjusted the air-conditioning vent away from my face. “And before you get any grand ideas about playing matchmaker, I’m pretty certain he’s seeing someone.”

  “Me? Matchmaker?” She placed her hand against her chest dramatically. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  I filled her in on the interaction I’d witnessed between Jake and Yvonne.

  She slapped her thigh and said, “That means nothing. He could’ve been giving her a ride home, Barbie, and she’s repaying the favor with a meal. You’ve already told me he’s a nice guy. I just don’t see him asking you to coffee one minute and turning around to spend the afternoon and have dinner with a woman he’s seeing the next. He doesn’t strike me as the type. And he’s never mentioned a girlfriend to me.”

  I knew Darlene had occasional interaction with Jake at the gas station, but it was obvious she’d been reading him all wrong.

  “There’s something else.” I turned on my left blinker and waited for a car to pass.

  “What? What else is there?” She sat up straighter and turned in her seat to face me.

  “Before Yvonne asked if he wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer for her, they exchanged a glance.”

  “What kind of a glance?” Darlene leaned toward me. I had her attention.

  “The kind of glance you don’t want others to see. A secret glance,” I whispered for emphasis.

  “Oh, well, if there was a secret glance, I can certainly see why you’ve written him off.” There was no missing the sarcasm in her tone. She followed up with, “I forgot that you aren’t only a gifted surgeon, but you’re also an extraordinary interpreter of secret glances.”

  Her description was ridiculous and we both started laughing.

  “Fine. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt,” I told her. “Maybe, and I’m only saying maybe, if he asks me to coffee again, I just might accept.”

  An hour later, disappointed that I couldn’t find any suitable fixtures for my renovation, we made our way through the throng of sellers and buyers when I stopped short and stared ahead. Darlene had continued walking and talking. When she realized I was no longer next to her she stopped and walked back to me. Following my gaze she let out a loud sigh, and I didn’t have to see them to know her shoulders sagged.

  “Dirty darn it,” she said in a low voice. “I had such high hopes for the two of you.”

  “I know you did, Dar, but it’s fine. Better to know now, right?”

  It turned out that Jake Chambers was the type of person to ask a woman out for coffee moments before spending the afternoon with his girlfriend. I watched as he stood about three booths ahead of us, holding hands with Yvonne. They looked like they were haggling with a man who was selling furniture. When Jake wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, I turned around.

  “There has to be another way out of here,” I told Darlene as I did my best not to stomp my way to the nearest exit.

  Chapter 10

  Yeah, I’ll Be Your Fun Buddy

  I’d turned into a grump and Darlene called me out on it more than once. I blamed it on hormones and she called me a liar. She was right. I was angry. Not at Jake but at myself for letting in a smidgen of hope that there might be something more to him. I’d been letting men disappoint me and break my heart since 1975, the year my father died. I was more determined than ever to break the cycle. I just didn’t know how.

  I would see an opportunity a week later when I pulled into my driveway after an extremely long day and saw the familiar pickup truck that boasted the name of the town’s only HVAC company parked in front of my house.

  Dustin was sitting on my porch in the old Adirondack chair I’d recently painted fire-engine red. He stood and walked down the steps. I turned off the ignition and got out of my Jeep.

  He greeted me with an embarrassed smile and said, “I knew if I waited long enough you’d eventually come home.”

  I’d seen Dustin in town a few times over the past few weeks. He was always friendl
y but had stopped asking me out. Seeing him at my house reminded me that I’d never thanked him for repairing the loose gutter. It would seem rude to continue avoiding an expression of appreciation. I walked toward him and said, “I’ve been meaning to thank you for forever, and I keep forgetting.” I pointed to the right side of my house where the gutter had been dangling.

  He followed my gaze, then stuck his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels. He looked momentarily confused so I quickly added, “You know, for repairing my gutter. I never thanked you.”

  He pasted on a dazzling smile before saying, “I’ll accept your belated thank-you if you’ll have dinner with me.”

  “Is that why you drove all the way out here?” I asked, stopping to shift the grocery bag I was carrying to the other arm. “To ask me to dinner?”

  He grinned. “I thought playing hard to get and leaving you alone would make you change your mind. It hasn’t worked, so I came out here to ask again. And since you reminded me you owe me a thank-you, I’m gonna take advantage of it.”

  He took the bag out of my arms. “Unless there’s something in here I can cook for you.”

  “Now you want to cook for me?” I laughed. He was cute, and even though I didn’t find myself attracted to him, I couldn’t deny the small thrill that came with knowing he was interested in me.

  “Sure, I’ll cook for you,” he countered with confidence.

  That’s when I made up my mind to accept his invitation. I didn’t have any intention of using Dustin. I would make it clear to him up front that I wasn’t interested in him romantically. But if he wanted to pursue a strictly platonic relationship, I wouldn’t mind spending time with him. As Darlene had ranted at me more than once, “You’re only fifty-two, Barbie. You don’t have to date, but you do need to have some fun.” She was right.