Better Than This: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  Darlene snorted. “So, because he has tattoos and is towing a motorcycle you assume he knows your biker?”

  I ignored her question and continued to watch the family as the father reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out a container of juice. After handing it to his wife, he took the little boy with him to the other side and engaged the gas pump. In the meantime, the teenager rocked the baby on her hip while her mother wrestled with the bottle of juice and a sippy cup.

  “First of all, he’s not my biker,” I grunted. “But yeah, maybe this guy, who I’ve never seen before, is friends with him and they ride together. He looks like he might know a thing or two about motorcycle gangs.”

  “Now your lone biker is in a motorcycle gang?” she squealed. “You have a vivid imagination, Barbie. And that’s Christian and Mimi. They’ve been coming here for years. And they are as pure as the driven snow. There is no way that family knows anything about bikers, especially biker gangs.” Darlene let out a bellowing laugh.

  “Okay, okay,” I conceded. I tore my eyes away from the family and gave her my full attention. “How do you know so much about them? Pure as the driven snow?”

  Her eyes got bright. “It’s a very romantic story. Christian and Mimi were childhood friends who lost touch, and eleven years ago they ran into each other in Pumpkin Rest of all places. Can you even imagine the chances of that? Right in front of the grocery.” She proceeded to tell me a quick story about a makeshift marriage under the stars on the back deck of a vacation house he was renting from the Munro family.

  I frowned. “The Munro family?”

  “You wouldn’t know them,” she replied while shaking her head. “They were city-dwellers who bought up the Henderson parcel for next to nothing after Mr. Henderson passed away. They built a huge house on the lake.”

  I nodded my faint recollection of the last living Henderson as Darlene continued with her story.

  “Talk about romantic,” she sighed. Christian and Mimi’s parents bought the house for them as an anniversary gift several years back, and they’ve been coming here to celebrate ever since.” Being directionally challenged since we were kids, Darlene waved her hand in the air motioning toward the east and said, “After they leave here, they head off to spend a little time with her family somewhere in Montana before heading home to Florida.”

  I smiled at the dreamy look in Darlene’s eyes. It was quite a story and gave me a warm feeling. I squinted in concentration. “You said they ran into each other eleven years ago. Is the girl their daughter? Because she’s no eleven-year-old.”

  Darlene nodded. “Yeah, Abby is Christian’s daughter from a previous relationship. But, I’m pretty sure Mimi is the only mother she’s ever known. The little boy, Tommy, is theirs together and they’re in the process of adopting the baby, Micah.”

  We’d been so engrossed in our conversation, we jumped when the door opened and Mimi appeared.

  “Hi, Darlene!” she called as she came in. “We’re heading out and I wanted to say goodbye.”

  Darlene had just finished introducing me when the jingling of the door sounded again and Abby came in, still balancing the baby on her hip and trying to hold the hand of her little brother, who broke free and ran to his mother. He looked like a miniature version of his father, except his skin was a little lighter and his hair was shorter.

  “Mommy, Mommy, I gotta pee,” he shrieked. “Really bad. It’s gonna come out all by itself!”

  Darlene smiled and motioned toward the back. “Y’all know where the bathroom is.”

  Mimi reached for her son’s hand and I could hear her as she headed to the back of the store. “Thomas Anthony, we left the house only twenty minutes ago and I told you to go before we got in the truck.”

  I chuckled to myself as I watched their retreating backs. Turning to the stunning teenager, I couldn’t help but comment, “You have a beautiful family.” The baby she was holding had a head of black curly hair, almond-shaped chocolate eyes, and dark-brown skin.

  Abby broke out into a wide smile before sharing with us that they’d had the baby since he was three days old, and as soon as they arrived back in Florida, her parents would be signing the adoption papers that would make Micah Jamison legally theirs. And it would be just in time to celebrate his first birthday. This was all information Darlene had already known but was obviously new to me.

  When Mimi and little Tommy reappeared, it was time for goodbyes, and less than five minutes later, the family was pulling out onto the main road. I turned back to my longtime friend and listened as Darlene speculated on how much the couple’s parents had paid for the Munros’ high-dollar vacation home. Apparently, the Munros had no intention of selling their home, until they were made an offer they couldn’t refuse.

  “Who knows,” I replied nonchalantly. “They both might come from money. You seem to know everything about them. How come you don’t know?”

  “They don’t share anything personal. I mean, I know how they bumped into each other and got married here.” Darlene reached for a rag and dusted the counter and some of the displays. “I know they live in Florida, have three kids, and she has family somewhere in Montana, but other than that, they don’t say much. Now that I think about it, he doesn’t say anything at all.”

  After a bit more chitchat that concluded with Darlene inviting me to church, I skirted around the invitation by announcing, “I think I’m ready for stage two of my renovations. I’ve been putting it off but I have some gutter damage after that last storm. Can you think of anybody who’s looking for work?”

  After my initial move home last year, I’d spent as much time as I could in Pumpkin Rest having the electric, plumbing, and heating and air system modernized and brought up to code. I’d been a full-timer for almost a month now so it was time to dive into the structural and cosmetic part of updating my house.

  “I can ask if one of the Shook boys is looking for extra money,” she told me. She batted her eyelashes and I knew what was coming. “Or, you could ask Dustin. I know heating and air is his specialty, but I’m sure he’d give you a hand with some of the other stuff.”

  I let out a sigh. Dustin had installed my new heating and cooling system. He was a handsome thirty-year-old with his own business, who made it clear that he was interested in me. I blew him off. As a matter of fact, my new system was making some noises and I found the thought of calling him so unappealing, I lived with the racket instead. It occurred to me that the biker must have passed by my house and I hadn’t heard him because of my louder-than-normal air-conditioning unit. Mystery solved.

  “Dustin is the last person I want to call,” I said matter-of-factly. I picked up a pack of gum and placed it on the counter with a couple of dollars.

  “He likes you, Barbie. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Not interested, and you can keep the change,” I said as I scooped up my gum and headed for the door. “And I have my bag with me so I’m going to stop at your granny’s house and listen to her chest. If I even suspect her pneumonia is back, I’m going to drive her straight to the clinic.”

  “Good,” Darlene agreed. “She is the most stubborn woman I know, but she’ll listen to you. And, Barbie…”

  I’d pushed open the door and looked back over my shoulder. Darlene was holding up a business card. “You forgot Dustin’s number.” She grinned.

  “Bye, Dar. I have to come back for groceries and gas, so I’ll see you in a little while.” I headed for my Jeep Cherokee, hiding my smile from her.

  I checked on Darlene’s grandmother and headed back to the gas station and grocery store where I ran into a string of people I knew. Even though I’d left my job as a trauma surgeon in Greenville, I’d been working one or two days a week at the office of Dr. Charles Tucker which was about thirty minutes east of our little town and where the majority of Pumpkin Rest residents went for their medical care. It hadn’t helped that our local family pharmacy had closed and was now a hardware store. The retired pharmacist had
always gone out of his way to help the locals assess their ailments and determine if a trip to Dr. Tucker’s was necessary. Apparently, I filled that void now. Almost two hours later, having discussed everything from arthritis and sinus infections to migraines and gout, I finished my grocery shopping, gassed up my Jeep, and headed for home.

  The first thing I noticed when I pulled up to my house was that my dangling gutter had been put back in place.

  I shook my head. Darlene must have called Dustin and he’d already come to the rescue. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that I’d missed him.

  “Dar, you little stinker,” I said, laughing as I carried my bags inside.

  Chapter 2

  Barbie and Ken

  The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully and I stayed busy with my house projects, a few unavoidable trips to Greenville to wrap up some business with my attorney, and working at Dr. Tucker’s clinic. I still hadn’t called Dustin to thank him for the gutter repair. And since I no longer needed him to take a look at my loud air-conditioning unit because it stopped making the irritating noise, I saw no need to get in touch. Darlene continued to deny calling him about the gutter, but I chose not to believe her. After all, it was the only explanation, unless gutter fairies were roaming the area. I could’ve cleared up the mystery with a simple phone call, but I’d been avoiding Dustin.

  Darlene had been right about one thing. Dustin had expressed an interest in me, but even after I’d turned down a few invitations, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that I wasn’t interested. Any reasonable woman might’ve jumped at the chance to be with a man like Dustin. He was smart, good-looking, hardworking, and kind. He was a lot younger than me, but that hadn’t influenced my decision not to accept his invitation. I had no issues with younger men. The simple truth was that I wasn’t attracted to him, nor was I looking for a relationship. Yes, he had the looks, the body, and everything else going for him, but there was no spark, no connection. No chemistry. And that was that.

  It was a Monday morning and I’d volunteered to fill in for the resident doctor at the Hampton House, a privately owned assisted living facility about twenty-five miles north in the little township of Stillwell. She had a family emergency and asked if I wouldn’t mind making a routine visit in her stead. Even though I was now a trauma surgeon, I’d started my career as a general practitioner. At some point I’d decided to challenge myself and went back to complete my residency in trauma. I now jumped at the chance to fill in at Hampton House as it gave me an opportunity to visit with some employees and possibly even some residents I’d known from my childhood, as well as put my GP skills to good use. I’d just pulled up and taken a final sip of my coffee before reaching for my purse, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Stretching to get a better look, I almost spit out my coffee when my eyes zeroed in on the gas tank of a very familiar motorcycle. What was the disgusting pig doing here?

  After signing in at the front desk, I scanned the halls as I made my way to the director’s office. My high school friend, Sheila, hadn’t changed a bit with the exception of some laugh lines around her eyes and a few extra pounds which only complemented her figure. After a warm greeting she offered her condolences for my situation. I wasn’t surprised. Even though Sheila no longer lived in Pumpkin Rest, she was still privy to small-town chatter. She filled me in on details about her life. Two of her four children had moved away and her husband had retired. Based on what Darlene had shared with me, I knew better. Sheila’s husband wasn’t retired. He was a lazy bum who’d never held a job and regularly abused Sheila for years. It was obvious by the long-sleeved turtleneck she was wearing in this miserable heat that he was still doing it.

  After walking me to the nurses’ station, she asked if I would have time for lunch after my rounds. I apologized, telling her I wasn’t able to stay and asked for a rain check. Perhaps Sheila would open up to me about her circumstances. I was in no position to be doling out marital advice, but I had seen my share of domestic violence in the ER. I must’ve looked distracted because she noticed my wandering eyes and asked, “Are you looking for someone, Dr. Anderson?”

  I’d already told her to call me Barbie, but she insisted on being official. “Yes, I’m looking for someone who would probably garner some notice. He has long hair, wears it in a braid. He has a beard and is covered in tattoos.”

  She shook her head. “Some of our volunteers and caregivers have tattoos, but nobody fits that description. Unless he’s a visitor.”

  I shrugged. If I made my rounds it would only be a matter of time before I ran into him. Unless he left before I was finished. After taking a few moments to familiarize myself with the list of residents I would need to see, I looked up, startled.

  “Jonathan Pritchard is here?” I asked, my surprise obvious.

  “Oh, yes,” Sheila replied, clapping her hands together. “He came to live with us just last year. It’s so good to have him back here. It’s not Pumpkin Rest, but it’s also not the other side of the state. He gets regular visitors from some of the local people who knew his family.”

  Before I had the chance to inquire about his welfare, Sheila whispered, “People who knew his mother. It’s no secret that nobody cared for his father.”

  That was an understatement. Kenny and Jonathan Pritchard’s father had been a miserable excuse for a human being, and I’d hated him even more than I’d hated my grandmother. I wondered why Darlene hadn’t told me about Jonathan being so close to Pumpkin Rest, but I immediately knew the answer. Darlene and I steered clear of any conversation that included the name Pritchard. I’d barely been able to say the name when I was telling Darlene about the disgusting pig who rode off toward their farm and never returned.

  “How is Jonathan doing?” I asked Sheila, looking over his chart. Jonathan Pritchard was forty-seven, two years older than my sister, Fancy. He was developmentally challenged and would always function at a four- or five-year-old level. Before Sheila could answer, I added, “He still won’t let any men near him?” It was no secret that his brother, Kenny, had suffered physical abuse from their father. Abuse that Jonathan had witnessed too many times to count. Everyone assumed it was the reason Kenny ran away from home when he was a young teen. My eyes glazed over as I continued to read Jonathan’s chart which indicated female-only caregivers. I gritted my teeth in anger. How could you have left your little brother? I swallowed thickly. How could you have left me?

  Sheila disrupted my thoughts when she excitedly said, “That seems to be changing. We have a new male caregiver who has been making serious progress with Jonathan. It’s like a miracle.”

  I listened to her as I continued to scan his chart. We were interrupted when Sheila was told she had a phone call. Before going to her office, she informed me that Dolly would be assisting me on my rounds.

  Dolly was an attractive and overly enthusiastic twenty-one-year-old with more pep and energy than a first grader. It was obvious after visiting the first two residents that she was well loved by those under her care. She handled them with kindness and patience, and I found myself admiring and respecting her. She wasn’t trading hours for dollars. This woman loved her job.

  Two hours flew by, and before I knew it, we’d come to the last resident. Jonathan Pritchard would be our final stop. I wondered if he would remember me. I hoped not. I hadn’t seen him in years, and when I did, it hadn’t gone so well. I’d left for college in 1984 and that was the same year his father died and he became a ward of the state. It was also the same year that Kenny had been sentenced to life without parole in a maximum-security prison in Florida. I would be giving Jonathan a routine checkup while Dolly administered his daily medication. As we approached his door, Dolly leaned into me and whispered above the noisy cart she was pushing, “I hope Jake is with him.”

  I knew immediately she must’ve been referring to the new caregiver Sheila had mentioned. Still, it prompted me to ask, “Why do you hope that?”

  She gave me a sideways glance
and said, “You’ll see. He’s old enough to be my daddy.” A mischievous smile broke out on her face before she added, “And I’d let him spank my bottom any day. He is one fine-looking specimen.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh.

  I followed Dolly as she pushed the med cart inside Jonathan’s room and announced us. “Jonathan, we have a special visitor today. Dr. Anderson is going to give you a little checkup while I get your medicine ready. Okay?”

  Jonathan was sitting at a table facing the door. He was playing checkers with an opponent who had his back to us. I noticed that Jonathan’s visitor had broad shoulders and was wearing a blue short-sleeved scrub shirt over a long-sleeved white tee. He had hair cropped close to his head with glints of silver. Must be the older Jake that Dolly was hoping we’d run into, I thought. I heard music, and out of the corner of my eye spotted an old boom box on the dresser. I didn’t recognize the song or the man singing, but the beat was pleasant and the lyrics heartwarming.

  It doesn’t get better than this

  For you and I on this drive is life and love

  At its best

  And it’s all that I need

  The man’s voice reminded me of molasses—heavy and rich. My stomach grumbled and I immediately focused my attention on Jonathan who was wearing a Garth Brooks t-shirt. He jumped up, bumping the table and causing some of the checkers to scatter. An empty Dr. Pepper can hit the tile floor causing a loud ping to resonate off the walls. Clapping his hands, he quickly walked toward me repeating, “Barbie doll, Barbie doll, Barbie doll.”