Better Than This: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  I told him he was right and found myself sharing some details about the Pritchards, even going so far as to tell him about the tree houses that had been built during Prohibition. He listened with what appeared to be sincere interest, and I found that talking with Jake felt natural. I wasn’t feeling defensive like I had that night when Dustin mentioned the Pritchard farm. It’s probably what prompted me to open up about my relationship with Kenny Pritchard, and as we passed the Mason jar, I told Jake about Kenny’s abrupt and unexpected disappearance from my life. And for the very first time, it didn’t pain me to talk about it.

  He listened without interrupting me and never once made me feel ridiculous for my obvious obsession over Kenny’s abandonment. It was actually the opposite. He asked questions about my true relationship with Kenny, and urged me to think of any possible way Kenny might’ve left me a message.

  I shook my head. “That hope died long before Kenny did. I searched every place he could’ve left me a note,” I admitted.

  “When you said you were looking for these”—he paused and lifted up the jar—“you said you couldn’t be sure that you got them all.”

  “I suppose it’s possible there’s a message out there somewhere.” I used my right hand to sweep the room with a grand gesture. “But I highly doubt it. Kenny wouldn’t have left a note in a random hiding spot. He would’ve used one of our regular places. He wouldn’t have risked me not finding it,” I explained.

  He appeared to briefly ponder it and changed the subject.

  “I’ve heard rumors about you.” His voice was soft.

  I braced myself and swallowed. Turning slightly to face him, I prompted, “Let’s hear them.”

  “I’ve heard you referred to as the Monster of Monteith Medical.”

  “Guilty!” Raising my hand, I took the moonshine from him and laughed. He was alluding to my reputation in the emergency room at the hospital in Greenville where I used to be on staff. I’d earned the nickname years ago after going head-to-head with another physician who, in my opinion, wasn’t as interested in quality healthcare as he was in his retirement. The nickname stuck. I was actually proud of it. I thought the conversation would lean toward my career, so Jake caught me by surprise with his next comment.

  “You’re obviously a tough chick. Why didn’t you stand up for yourself with Francine this morning?”

  “Fancy.” I corrected, and took another sip. “My sister’s name is Fancy. It’s actually Frenita, but that’s a story for another day.”

  “I can see why she prefers Fancy,” he said with a grin. “But seriously”—he frowned—“why didn’t you let her have it today?”

  I looked at the ceiling and, clutching the jar with both hands, tried to gather my thoughts concerning Fancy. Jake was right about my nickname. I was a hard person to work for in the emergency room and never had any qualms about putting someone in their place when it came to the welfare of our patients. But I appeared like a total pushover when it came to my sister. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to blast her. Somehow, I always managed to bite my tongue with Fancy.

  “Because she’s my little sister,” I blurted out with an apologetic sigh. “She was very young when our parents died. She doesn’t remember them. I’ve always felt protective toward her. And I know she gets her mean streak from my grandmother, but I don’t blame Fancy for that. It’s not her fault she was influenced by a witch of a woman.”

  “What if it wasn’t your grandmother’s influence? What if your sister is just a rotten person? How far does she have to go before you tell her to get lost?”

  There wasn’t an easy answer to that. Fancy had already ruined my marriage and was living in my home in Greenville. She’d made it clear she wanted Dad’s Civil War coins so she could pawn them. And just today she’d tried to humiliate me in the worst way possible to get Jake’s attention.

  “I’m not sure there’s anything else she could do. And since I haven’t lost my temper with her yet, I doubt there are too many buttons left she could push.”

  He looked like he didn’t believe me, and his next comment proved it.

  “You’re wrong. It’ll happen when you least expect it. And it’ll be something small that will set you over the edge.”

  I shrugged and said, “Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell.”

  “I can’t believe your husband would leave you for someone like her. I’m not trying to knock your sister, Barbie, but she doesn’t even hold a candle to you.”

  I was afraid I might blush, so I made light of his compliment by saying, “As she pointed out, she is my younger sister.”

  “Whose gray roots were showing.” He snickered and added, “Yeah, I might be a guy, but I noticed them. And the inch of makeup on her face. It’s covering up something she doesn’t want anybody to see.” He reached out and lightly brushed the side of my face with the back of his hand. “You’re a natural beauty, Barbie. I like that you don’t feel the need to hide from your true self.”

  I didn’t know how to react to what he’d said or how the warmth from his knuckles on my cheek made it tingle. So I did the stupidest thing ever.

  I lifted up my hair and showed him the gray that was starting to show. I may have been seven years older than Fancy, but I’d inherited somebody’s good genes. My gray hadn’t revealed itself until last year, and so far, it was only coming out on the underside of my locks. I silently thanked whatever distant relative had passed down that trait.

  He didn’t say anything and I was horrified to realize that he might’ve been thinking I was exposing my neck for another reason. I tried not to swallow as I indulged myself in the memory of what his breath felt like there only a few hours ago.

  He reached for my hand and pulled it away, allowing my hair to fall back into place. “I like your new haircut. Did you get that done in Greenville today?”

  I turned to face him. “Yeah. Do you really like it? I wasn’t sure because it’s shorter than I’m used to. My stylist suggested it. She called it a choppy bob.”

  “It suits you.” His voice sounded hoarse and I found myself unable to meet his eyes. “I would’ve told you how pretty it looked earlier but your sister kind of ruined the moment.” He gently removed the Mason jar from my other hand and took another long swallow. He held it up to me and I followed suit. “I still think your ex is a fool,” he muttered.

  “Was a fool,” I corrected before swiping my arm across my mouth. How ladylike, Barbie. Why don’t you try picking your nose for the kill?

  “Was?” He raised a brow.

  “Would you like to meet my ex-husband?” I didn’t wait for an answer as I stood up and walked toward the small closet beneath the stairs. I opened the door and bent down to retrieve something out of the red plastic bin Fancy had delivered weeks earlier. I walked back toward Jake and laid the heavy object on the coffee table with a thud.

  “Jake, meet my ex,” I said as I motioned toward the urn filled with Richard Poznanski’s ashes.

  Chapter 15

  Middle-Aged Carelessness (Mac)

  Jake was genuinely shocked. He’d had no idea that Richard had died a few months earlier. Then again, the only person I’d told was Darlene and she would never reveal that detail of my life. I suspected that Sheila might’ve known because she would have occasion to speak with some of my colleagues in the medical community, but she was too much of a professional to gossip. I remembered her offering her condolences my first day at Hampton House. Then again, she could’ve been offering her sympathies for my failed marriage, which was obvious since I’d returned to Pumpkin Rest sans husband a year earlier.

  “I don’t think anybody knows he’s dead,” Jake surmised as he set the Mason jar on my coffee table and turned to face me. He casually rested his right arm across the back of my couch, dangerously close to my neck. “Are you okay?”

  I explained it was highly unlikely that anybody would know about Richard’s death. Greenville was hours away from Pumpkin Rest, and it wasn’t like Richard’s obituary
would’ve run in our local paper. It was printed every Wednesday and was less than ten pages.

  “But are you okay, Barbie?” His concern produced a few lines across his forehead.

  “I’m fine. I really am. I was shocked by Fancy’s little revelation earlier today, but other than that, I’d made my peace with Richard before he died. I moved here over a year ago, and when he was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer, I went back to Greenville to manage his treatments. He may have dumped me for my sister, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn my back on him.” I looked at my lap and waited for Jake to say something. I felt his fingers lightly brushing the back of my hair. I fought the urge to press my head back against his hand.

  “How did Fancy handle all this?”

  I looked up at him. “Fancy never loved Richard, and I felt bad that he realized it before he died. She was living in the same house with him and moved into a guest room when he got sick and could barely bring herself to visit him in the room they’d shared. She tried to act like she cared, but her real concern was his will.”

  I filled Jake in on the pathetic details of Richard’s estate. Or rather lack of one. Even I hadn’t known he’d developed a serious gambling addiction two years before he left me for my sister. And it was nothing short of a miracle, for reasons I could no longer remember, that we’d taken the advice of a financial consultant early in our marriage and put the deed of our home in my name. If not for that advice, I was certain Richard would’ve gambled away our condo.

  “So, he divorced you, died broke, and left an empty pot?”

  “Yeah, kind of.” Before he could ask, I explained, “He died before the divorce was finalized. In the end, he refused to sign the papers for the divorce he’d asked for. I’m technically a widow, not a divorcee.”

  “And it’s why you told your sister today that you knew things were hard for her. She’s broke.” It was a statement, not a question.

  I absentmindedly fiddled with my earring. “Yes. But it’s obvious I was wrong. When Richard still had some money, he bought her a brand-new Mercedes. I saw the title to it and it was in her name. But she was driving a new car today, and I know Richard didn’t leave her the means to pay for it, so she must’ve found a new man. I’m sure she’ll be moving out of my condo soon, if she hasn’t already.”

  “After all of that, you still let her live in your home?” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “I didn’t have the heart to throw her out,” I confessed.

  “If she’s found a new man, he’s downgraded her.”

  Jake’s comment was unexpected. “Why do you say that?”

  “You told me earlier how she ran out on her doctor bill.” He paused and scratched his jaw. “And that Beamer wasn’t new. It looked like it was in excellent condition, but it was at least nine years old. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I do know a little something about cars. I guess most guys do.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “She’s driving an old BMW. She must’ve sold the Mercedes, used the cash to buy the used Beamer, and kept whatever was left over to live on.”

  After describing Fancy’s modus operandi, Jake and I surmised that she’d most likely upped her attack against me out of sheer desperation. She thought Jake was a doctor and saw him as her next potential source of income. When she thought he was my man, it only fueled her desire to snatch him up, resulting in an uncalled-for personal attack on me.

  “I don’t care what her reason may have been, she had no right to treat you like she did, Barbie. If she were a man, any man,” he quickly clarified, “I’d have laid her out in a heartbeat.”

  I tried not to bristle at his comment. I was in the business of saving lives and had sewn up my fair share of people who’d been on the losing end of a fight. I focused on Jake’s left hand, which was casually resting on his knee. I had no doubt it could do serious damage.

  “What are you thinking?” he softly prodded.

  “That there are other ways to settle differences,” I replied.

  He looked unconvinced. “Yeah, I’m sure there are. I also know that not everybody can be reasoned with.”

  “I can see how Fancy might fall into that category,” I sadly admitted. I wasn’t certain, but I thought I might’ve slurred my last sentence. I looked at the jar and was surprised to see it was almost empty. Concerned that I might embarrass myself, I decided to shut up and let Jake do the talking. I started by asking him if he’d grown up in Texas. I was surprised to hear that he’d only been in Texas long enough to get arrested and thrown in jail for a year.

  It turned out that Jake Chambers was raised in Florida. South Miami to be exact. The only child of older parents, his nickname as a child had been Mac.

  “That’s a cute nickname. Where did it come from?”

  “My uncle gave it to me. Said I was the result of middle-aged carelessness. Hence, Mac.”

  “Oh, how mean!” I shouted but had a hard time suppressing a laugh. “Your parents were older when they had you?”

  He smiled. “A lot older. And let’s say I was a huge surprise, but they handled it well. I had a very happy childhood. My parents had their own business. Tropical Landscapes and Nursery.”

  “The orchid on your bike?” My eyes were wide.

  “Yeah, the orchid on my bike. I grew up surrounded by flowers.”

  I told him that I’d looked at his file at Hampton House and hadn’t noticed he was from Florida. He explained how at eighteen, he’d broken his parents’ hearts when he took off with a buddy to make some quick cash in Texas.

  “We got out there, got some stupid, scary-looking tattoos.” He stopped and gestured to the hollowed-out skeleton eyes that were peering over the collar of his shirt. “Found an apartment, got a job to make us look legit. I even got a Texas driver’s license.”

  “And?”

  “Started stealing cars and lots of other things when we weren’t at work.” He gave me a mischievous smile and said, “It’s how I got your tire out of your trunk.”

  I formed a silent “oh” with my mouth. I hadn’t even thought to ask how Jake had managed to get into my locked Jeep. Could I have subconsciously remembered seeing auto theft on his rap sheet?

  “Made a lot of dough, “ he continued. “Got caught. Did some time in a Texas prison. Went back to Miami only to find both of my parents were in poor health.”

  I got the distinct impression he felt his stint in jail might have had a direct correlation to the decline in his parents’ well-being. “When I looked at your prison file and work history, which only went back five years, I didn’t see that you lived in Miami,” I told him.

  “I guess it wouldn’t have been there. My arrest and the subsequent record would’ve listed my Texas address. And five years ago I moved out of Florida, so my work history starts in Georgia.”

  “And all the years in between?”

  “I floated from town to town in Florida. I’ve lived in Fort Lauderdale, Jacksonville, Tampa. And before you ask, sometimes I was on good behavior, sometimes not. I’ve done everything from long-haul trucking to construction to HVAC work. I took anything I could get when I first got out of prison.”

  “You didn’t have any interest in furthering your education? I’m assuming you graduated from high school?”

  “Yeah, and managed to get a college degree along the way. Unfortunately, I could never find something I was passionate about.”

  I was drunk, but fighting it because I found his story so interesting. “Sheila told me you were remodeling a nursing home when you found you had a knack for caring for the elderly and people with special needs. Perhaps having older parents somehow influenced that.”

  “It was a big influence.” He shifted uncomfortably before looking away. He stood abruptly and excused himself to use the bathroom. During the three minutes he was gone, I developed a pounding headache and felt like the room was starting to spin. I’d over drank my limit and was going to pay sorely for it in the morning.

  We talked a little mor
e. About what exactly, I had no idea. At some point, I remembered lecturing him about the dangers of drinking and driving. I think he laughed and warned me about the perils of drinking and walking. I remembered him asking me out for Saturday night, and I told him I had plans. I didn’t tell him what they were, because I couldn’t remember.

  I also didn’t remember saying goodbye to him. I didn’t remember walking him to the door, locking it, or making my way upstairs. I didn’t remember what could’ve been the last hour, thirty minutes, or two minutes of our time together. It was a total blank. The only thing I could remember was the sinking disappointment when I finally remembered why I couldn’t see him on Saturday night. It was because I’d already made plans with Dustin.

  Chapter 16

  The Best Dream Ever

  I was dreaming and I didn’t want to wake up. I was wrapped in strong arms and pressed tight against a hard chest. I opened my eyes and saw the underside of Jake’s jaw. I inhaled his scent and sighed. He chuckled and I burrowed in closer, not wanting the dream to end. His movements felt solid and effortless as he navigated the stairs. He softly kicked open the door to my bedroom and turned on the light with his elbow. He walked to my bed, bent low, and with the hand that was under my legs, managed to pull my comforter down. After gently laying my head against the pillow and pulling the comforter up to my chin, he must’ve sat down because I felt myself roll toward him. My dreams were always detailed, but this one felt so real I didn’t want to lose it.

  “I have a feeling the Monster of Monteith Medical may need a doctor tomorrow. I shouldn’t have let you drink so much, Barbie.” His voice was teasing but concerned.

  I thought about opening my eyes, but was afraid it would signal the end of my dream. So I didn’t reply and smiled in my sleep. I sensed him leaning over me and felt something hot on my neck. And unlike the parking lot in Greenville, it wasn’t just his breath. I felt his lips making their way up to my ear where they gave a gentle tug on my lobe.