by L. P. Dover
Three months.
Three months feels like ten years in small-town life. Never would I have ever thought I’d move back to New Hampshire. It’s nice being close to my parents because I can see them on more occasions other than just the holidays. I miss Baltimore, though, the big city life. I’m used to being on the go twenty-four-seven. But alas, all I had in Baltimore is gone. Being newly divorced, I thought I could make it on my own, but it’s not easy being a single mother. I practically was one even when I was married. That’s what happens when you marry a pilot, and he’s traveling from country to country most days of the week. Growing apart was inevitable.
“Mom,” Logan calls out, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Propping my feet up on the coffee table, I lean back on the couch. I already know what he’s looking for. “What’s up?” I shout back.
“I can’t find my shoes.”
They happen to be right under the coffee table. “Come here, and you might find them.”
When it comes to his room, he’s not perfectly tidy, but at least he’s somewhat neat. I don’t know what it is about his shoes, but he’ll leave them in odd places. I’ve found them under the bar in the kitchen, in the laundry room, and sometimes in the hallway for no apparent reason. Maybe it’s a quirk most ten-year-old boys have. I don’t know, but I’m learning new things about boys every day.
Logan marches into the living room, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Baltimore Ravens long-sleeved T-shirt; it’s his favorite team. When we moved away from Baltimore to Plymouth, he said no matter where we go, he’ll always pull for the Ravens. I hated having to uproot him, but there was no other choice. Logan spots his shoes and smiles. “That’s right. I took them off while we were watching Cobra Kai.” He grabs them and sits beside me so he can put them on.
“Maybe you should keep them in your room from now on. That way, you won’t lose them.”
Logan turns to me with those big, brown eyes of his. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I run a hand through his messy brown hair. Everyone says he’s my mini-me. We both have dark brown hair and brown eyes, but he gets his outgoingness from his father when it comes to personality. I was more of the shy type in school, very plain jane. That’s not my Logan, though; he’s not like me. Luckily, he’s made some friends since starting school. His teacher happens to be one that taught me many years ago.
I bump him with my shoulder. “You ready to go to Nana and Poppy’s?”
He ties his shoes and stands. “Yep. Are you coming with us to the festival?”
“No,” I blurt out with a shake of my head. “I’m going to take it easy today since it’s my day off.” That’s not the real reason, but I don’t want to explain to him that I dread the thought of running into people I went to school with. I had a few friends, but nothing that stuck after high school. We all went our separate ways. My way was straight out of New Hampshire. I stand and drape my arm over his little shoulders. “You’re going to have so much fun.”
“Do you want me to get you a caramel apple?”
He knows the way to my heart. Grinning, I squat down to his level and hug him. “That would be very sweet of you. You know I can’t resist a caramel apple.”
“I know,” he laughs. I tap a finger to my cheek, and he kisses me. “Bye, Mom.”
I open the door, and he runs out. My parents live just three houses away, so I watch him until he gets to their door and goes inside. When searching for a place to rent, I got lucky when this one came available. Both my parents are retired, so when I work, they’re able to watch Logan. It saves me tons of money on childcare. In Baltimore, I worked just to pay for it and keep Logan on his football team. The fees aren’t cheap. Even with child support from my ex, it wasn’t enough to help with all the expenses. Now that I’m in a smaller town, my pay is less but so are my bills. It’s all worked out. Logan is on the youth football team, and he’s happy; that’s all that matters.
Grabbing a wine glass out of the cabinet, I can’t help but feel excited about having some peace with a nice cold drink. My favorite holiday is coming up, and there’s a lot to be thankful for. I reach into the refrigerator for my wine and tip the bottle until my glass fills to the top. It’s not every day I get time to myself. Since being back in Plymouth, I’ve either been working, unpacking, or taking Logan to school, football games, or his practices for the past three months.
Carefully, I sit down on the couch, trying my best not to spill any of my wine. I bring the glass up to my lips, and before I can take a sip, my cell phone rings.
“Seriously?” I groan, slowly setting my glass down on the coffee table. I reach into my back pocket for my phone. When I see who it is, I pick up quickly. “Hey, Jeremy,” I answer, hoping nothing is wrong. Jeremy Wilcox is my partner. We’re both paramedics, and we work well together, much better than the partner I had in Baltimore. Jeremy is four years older than me and married with twin sons who play football with Logan. It gives us a lot to talk about in our downtime.
“Hey, do you mind bringing a few extra bottles of water when you come to the station today?”
“Today?” That doesn’t make sense. “I’m off today, Jeremy. What are you talking about?”
In the background, I can hear papers shuffling around. “We’re working at the Turkey Festival today. I saw your name on the sign-up sheet, so I thought we could go together and set up our tent. Someone always has to cover the Turkey Trot.”
I get to my feet. “I didn’t sign up for that.” There’s no way in hell I would have volunteered.
“Well somebody put your name down. I’m sending you a text to prove it.”
My phone beeps, and when I click on his text, I can see my name clear as day. I also happen to recognize the handwriting. “I’m going to kill her.”
Jeremy chuckles. “Who?”
I roll my eyes. “My mother. She’s the one who volunteered me.”
“That must be why she stopped by the other day when you weren’t here. Why would she sign you up without your knowledge?”
I have an idea, but I’m not going to bring it up. “There’s no telling,” I reply.
“Does this mean you’re still coming? You and I are the only ones on the schedule today.”
As much as I hate the idea of going to the festival, I can’t let him do it on his own. “I’ll be there. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be on my way.”
He blows out a sigh. “Thanks, Maeve. See ya when you get here.”
We hang up, and I quickly change my clothes into my uniform and throw a bunch of water bottles into a grocery bag. When I get outside to my car, my parents are in their front yard with Logan, my father tossing the football back and forth with him. I drive over and roll down my window as I pull into their driveway. My mother walks over and smiles when she sees me in my uniform.
“When were you going to tell me I had to work today?” I say, trying not to sound salty even though I am.
She pats my shoulder. “Jeremy’s name was the only one on the list. I felt bad for him.”
For some reason, I don’t believe her excuse. Especially with the way her eyes twinkle with mischief. “What’s the real reason, Mom?”
Her grin widens, and then she sighs. “Okay, fine. I want you to get out of the house and mingle with people. It’s time you meet a good man. There are plenty in town.”
Mouth gaping, I stare at her, clearly letting her know I’m not excited about that in the least. “Seriously? Have you forgotten I probably already know most of those men in town? I did grow up here. And let me tell you, I wasn’t impressed then, and I won’t be impressed now.”
She waves me off. “Oh honey, people grow up and change. You need to make some friends.”
“Jeremy and his wife are my friends. Plus, I have Logan. That’s all I need.”
“That’s not enough, Maeve. No one needs to be alone.”
There’s no sense in arguing with her. Little does she know, I’m happy being single. “Whateve
r you say, Mom.” I blow a kiss to Logan. “I’ll see ya at the festival, sweetheart.” He waves at me and gets back to passing the football with my dad.
My mom winks at me. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I can’t blame her for trying. However, it would’ve been nice to have a day off.
When I get to the station, Jeremy is outside by the ambulance, waiting for me. Time is running out, so I grab my bag of waters and hop into the passenger seat since Jeremy likes to drive. The festival is only a few blocks away.
“Did you ask your mom why she signed you up?” Jeremy asks.
One thing I love about being around Jeremy is that he’s easy to talk to. I can be honest with him. We’ve only known each other a month, but I feel like I’ve known him for years. “Well,” I begin, “she’s dying for me to meet the love of my life. Guess she thinks it’ll be at the festival.”
Jeremy chuckles. “Sounds like my mother. It turns out she was right, though. I met Kaylee at the Turkey Festival. She was visiting family over in Campton Hollow when they decided to come down to Plymouth to check out the festival for the day.”
It’s such a sweet story too. Kaylee says it was love at first sight. She drove down every day of the festival to see him. They were twenty years old, and she was visiting her family during college break. After that week, they stayed in touch and made it work until she transferred schools to be closer to him.
“I don’t think my story is going to end up like yours, Jeremy. I didn’t have many friends in school, and I was made fun of for being homely and plain.”
Jeremy bursts out laughing. “Well, you’re not like that now. You’re edgy and full of fire. There’s not a guy in this town that would pass up the chance to go on a date with you.”
He parks the ambulance, and I smile at him. “Thanks, Jeremy. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” He opens his door and waves me out. “Now come on, we got work to do.” We get out, and he sets up the canopy while I drag out a couple of our medical bags. Over the years I’ve attended the festival, there’s never been a time when paramedics were needed. I look around at all the different booths of various foods, crafts, and treats, and there are people everywhere. The festival has grown a lot over the years.
“Good afternoon, everyone.” The voice comes from a man at the podium in the center of the park. He waves at the crowd and smiles as everyone gathers around. “I’m Mayor Jim Hayes. The Turkey Trot is going to start in five minutes. Would all the runners please get into position at the starting gate.”
I’m curious to see who all is competing. When I was younger, I wanted to run it but was always too shy to do it. I hate it took me so long to break out of my shell. Jeremy stands with me and scans the lineup.
“Nice. I bet you’ll recognize a couple of the racers. You graduated with at least one of them.”
The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, making it hard to see, but I get a good look at the contestants as soon as it disappears again. Jeremy is right. I do recognize one of the racers. He’s none other than Kyler Groff, star quarterback in high school who never gave me a second glance. I wasn’t in the cool crowd like he was. I was one of the people he and his friends would make fun of. I couldn’t wait to graduate just to get away from them all. And, of course, time has been good to him. He looks the same as he did in high school, only now there’s a little bit of gray in his light brown hair. I’m too far away to see the color of his eyes, but I know they’ll still be the same hypnotic blue as before. All the girls used to go crazy over him.
At that moment, it’s as if Kyler can hear my thoughts. He turns his head my way, and our eyes connect. He smiles at me like he used to at all the girls in school. Sorry, buddy, but that’s not going to work on me. “Oh yeah, I recognize golden boy,” I say, making sure Kyler can see I’m nowhere near interested. I stare back at him, unamused by his flirtatious grin. I hope he breaks his leg.
The mayor clears his throat. “You have five seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two. One!” The race is on.
Two
Kyler
Finally, the Turkey Trot is here. I have trained all year for this event, and I fully intend to be the first one to cross the finish line. Okay, all year is a slight exaggeration, but ever since the gym next to my office opened, I’ve been going at least three times a week with this race in mind. Back in the day, I was a star athlete who could run circles around my competition. I was the same in college, but adulthood is taking its toll, and I’m determined to strengthen my core and get my physique back. My trainer tells me I need different goals, though, because looking I did in high school and college is probably a reach. I’m going to prove him wrong.
Mayor Jim Hayes tells everyone to get to the starting line. I’ve been standing here for about twenty minutes, stretching my arms and legs, and jumping up and down to keep them warm. I adjust the headband I wore for all my football games and track meets. It has never failed me, and I doubt it’ll let me down now.
“Please tell me you’ve washed that thing on your head,” Teddy Pierce says as he stands next to me. His eyes are focused on my headband, and there’s a look of disgust on his face.
“Of course,” I say, although I’m questioning myself. I think my mom washed it, but maybe she didn’t. That could explain the odd odor I smell and thought was coming from the chicken curry booth.
Crap.
Oh well, not like I can do anything about it now. It’s my good luck charm, and I’m superstitious.
“My God, what is that smell?”
I glance to my right to find Dotty Lovell with her nose scrunched. She’s waving her hand back and forth in front of her face, and I think her eyes are watering.
“Dude, it’s you,” Teddy leans in and says too loudly for others to hear.
Now that all the attention is on me, I have no choice but to remove my headband. I grab the cloth from the back of my head and slowly let it fall in front of my face. When it’s in reach of my nose, I inhale deeply and gag.
“Shit, this is the most putrid thing I have ever smelled.”
Teddy slaps me on my shoulder and says, “Clearly, you never smelled yourself on the football field, Kyler. You stunk the place up back in high school.”
I push Teddy away and throw my headband at him. “You’re just jealous because I kicked your ass every year.” Teddy is from a rival high school but lives in Plymouth now. The only time he’s beaten me at anything was my freshman year, in a track meet. He crossed the finish line first in a 400m race. It was a photo finish, and he’s never let it go since.
While in the act of pushing Teddy away, I happen to lock eyes with the newest EMT in town. She was the shiny new toy among the locals when she first arrived. As soon as word spread that she had grown up in Plymouth, the hype of her arrival died down. I’ll admit, it took me a few weeks to realize we had gone to school together. I even pulled out my old yearbooks and looked her up because I couldn’t remember her. I still can’t, really. Everything I read says we were in the same class, but I would’ve remembered a beauty like her.
Over the past few months, I’ve waited for her to come into the bank so I could put myself in her path, but she never does, and it’s not like I can walk into the fire station without cause. The chief and every other firefighter and EMT would wonder what I’m doing there. “Oh, hey, yeah, I’m here to flirt with your newest member,” would not go over very well. There’s a brother/sisterhood in the station, and I’m guessing they protect each other from unwanted advances. At least, this is how I am at the bank. I don’t appreciate people hitting on my staff while they’re working. There’s a time and place for romance, like the Turkey Festival. After I win the race, I’ll happily stop by her booth and show her my prize.
Finally, the mayor starts his countdown. I give my arms and legs a good shake and then ready myself. I’ve trained for this race, running miles upon miles on the treadmill. I’m ready.
The shotgun fires and I’m
off. People bump into me, crowding my space. I pump my arms and my legs. Inhale and exhale. I do everything I’ve trained for. Up ahead, I see Teddy and wonder when he passed me.
“Shit,” I mutter as I continue to run along the pavement. My muscles burn. My shins ache. I shouldn’t feel like this; I’m in shape. There’s a twinge in my knee, almost like a pinch.
I ignore it. It’s nothing, I tell myself. Just runner’s knee. Everyone gets it. It’s common. I continue to run, staying with a small pack of people who are around me. We head for the turn or, as the racecourse map called it, the bend in the road. It’s a corner, plain and simple. Someone sprints by us, taking the inside like they are Usain Bolt. Doesn’t he know this is a marathon and not a sprint?
I make the mistake of turning my head to look behind me. I don’t know why I do this. Maybe it’s my ego of needing to be the best, or perhaps it’s because I want to know who’s behind me. Either way, I shouldn’t have done it.
My knee twists and something pops.
By the time I realize what is happening, it’s too late to stop my body from falling forward. My hands reach out for the guy in front of me, but he’s too fast in his gait to help me break my fall. My arms flail about, and a string of cuss words emit from my mouth as my feet stutter to try and stop myself from face planting onto the pavement.
As soon as my knee hits the surface of the road, I roll. I learned this in football and used it to avoid an onslaught by a defensive back coming to tackle me. Although, most times, they held onto you to break their fall. However, no one is here to take me down to the ground, and I’m not wearing my pads.
Or my lucky headband, for that matter.
The stinging of my knee scraping against the road causes me to cry out. Rocks are poking my ass, but I’m in no shape to worry about those right now. Runners race past me, not giving a shit that their local bank manager is on the ground, injured, and in pain. They’re much like me; they race to win. I try to stand, but the pain is excruciating, and I collapse onto the ground and clutch my knee.
