Better Than This: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  I stroked Lady’s head. “I could see Kenny doing that.”

  “The judge had forgiven Kenny, but still didn’t want her daughter visiting him in prison. She asked Kenny to convince Bevin to cut ties with him. Bevin had fallen in love and was getting married. She was starting a new life with a criminal prosecutor of all people. She’s now Bevin Bear, not Marconi,” Jake said with a laugh. “It has a cute ring to it. Anyway, Kenny understood where Celeste was coming from and he agreed that she didn’t need ties to a father who was serving out a life sentence. He told Bevin it was okay, that he preferred it if she chose her mother over him.”

  “He was one of the most unselfish people I ever met,” I told Jake. “I feel sad now. I don’t want to feel so low, but knowing that Kenny was such a good human being, and how he got dragged into something so awful that he felt he couldn’t get out of…” My words died off and Jake reached for my hand. “It makes me want to cry. He didn’t deserve it, Jake. He just didn’t deserve it.”

  “I know he didn’t, sweetheart.” He looked wistful when he added, “And don’t think I don’t have a streak of guilt for my happy ending with you. But, I knew Kenny better than anyone. Even you, Barbie. And he would be happy for us.”

  I leaned my head against Jake’s shoulder and continued to stroke Lady’s fur. “You’re right. He would have been happy for us, Jake.”

  Chapter 49

  He Never Stopped Being The Perfect Gentleman

  The next two weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity. Darlene insisted on taking the helm and planned the perfect small-town wedding. Instead of sending out invitations, we spread the word that everyone was welcome.

  We got married on a sunny day at Darlene’s church with a reception that started in the parish hall and spilled out onto the lawn due to the number of guests that showed up. I’d asked Darlene to be my matron of honor, but she declined and told me she’d be too busy making sure everything went smoothly. She did offer an alternate suggestion. Since Jake had asked Jonathan to be his best man, it only seemed fitting that Cindy should be my maid of honor. It was a good call on Darlene’s part because watching how proud it made Jonathan and Cindy to be up on the altar with me and Jake brought us immeasurable joy.

  The preacher pronounced us man and wife and made sure Jake knew he was welcome to sit down during Sunday services. I laughed and promised him that Jake and I would both be sitting together in the future. For our wedding dance, we chose Alabama’s “Feels So Right” because it didn’t just feel so right, it felt more than right. It felt perfect.

  Even with Darlene’s help, the rush involved in pulling together a last-minute wedding made it nearly impossible to plan a honeymoon, so we opted to postpone it until we could decide where we wanted to spend it.

  My wedding night exceeded my wildest expectations. Especially when I found out Jake had made arrangements with one of Darlene’s relatives to keep Lady and Henry at their farm so he could have uninterrupted time with me. He carried me over the threshold of my house, which was now our home, and kicking the door closed behind us, sprinted up the stairs with me in his arms. Not too shabby for a man approaching the fourth quarter. My man.

  In hindsight, I might’ve found myself feeling a bit bashful considering my husband had never seen me without clothes. But making love to Jake was as natural as breathing. There was no shyness, just an intense longing to become one with each other.

  That night, as we lay spent in each other’s arms trying to regain our breath, I ran my hand over his chest and beamed at my name so prominently displayed over his heart. In addition to him promising me all his tomorrows at the altar just a few hours earlier, I thought his new tattoo was the best wedding present ever.

  The next few days were spent making love with breaks only for nutritional sustenance and long soulful talks about our plans for the future. For someone who’d spent almost half his life in prison and had only occasional trysts, Jake was an exceptionally skilled lover and more concerned about my pleasure than his own. He was the perfect combination of tenderness and animalistic need. I’m ashamed to admit that during one of our more passionate moments, I let my mind wander back to my first experience with Kenny. Jake was inside me, and we were in perfect unison. We’d quickly discovered each other’s rhythms and he knew how to pace himself so that we would find mutual release. It was during that release that I’d briefly fantasized about what it would’ve been like to make love to an adult Kenny. He’d only been fifteen when we lost our virginity and our experience, though beautiful, could never have been described as passionate. The thought was only fleeting and I promised myself at that moment that I would never let myself think of Kenny with anything other than a brotherly affection again.

  Our honeymoon at home flew by, and before I knew it, we’d seamlessly blended our lives together. We moved Jake’s belongings into my home and rented his house to one of Darlene’s relatives. Jake and I both continued to work and spent our free time taking care of our property, our dogs, and nurturing our marriage. We found pleasure in simple things. I finally loosened up enough to enjoy motorcycle rides. We spent Friday evenings catching him up on what I considered cinematic masterpieces that he’d missed out on while in prison. The more I grumbled about my hot flashes, the more Jake teased me that they couldn’t have been as big a deal as I’d made them out to be. I took it upon myself to introduce him to a hot flash of his own. One brutally hot day I switched the air conditioner in my Jeep to heat and put Jake’s seat warmer on without him noticing. He never teased me again. We took Jonathan and Cindy on picnics and fishing trips and spent a lot of time with Darlene and her huge family.

  We eventually honeymooned in the Poconos, not even caring that it was peak ski season. We preferred the quietness of our cabin and long nature walks to snow-covered slopes. Besides, neither one of us knew how to ski. I’m pretty sure Jake told me he loved me more in the first few months of our marriage than Richard had in over two decades. And I never tired of hearing it.

  The next several months brought triumphs and tragedies. Darlene and her husband welcomed another grandchild but had to say goodbye to Granny Dicey. The niece that dog-sat for me finished her associate degree and got accepted to Clemson University. Sheila’s husband was located and signed the divorce papers without complaint. Dolly quit her job at Hampton House to go back to school full-time. She was currently engaged to the man she’d started seeing after Jake’s rebuff. Yvonne had found a new beau and was no longer pining after the flea market furniture salesman.

  My condo was sold, and we bought and began restorations on an old house in Pumpkin Rest that would serve as a new group home for Jonathan and Cindy. Jake’s money couldn’t have found a more noble investment. This would be a little different than Hampton House in that the residents would find jobs based on their skill set. Jonathan was already practicing for his new job at Hampton House. He’d followed in his brother’s footsteps and was responsible for emptying the wastebaskets and helping with general chores. He thrived as did Cindy, who left each day to work at a fabric shop. We were all excited for the renovation to be complete so the new residents could move in. As soon as it was finished, Jake would resign from Hampton House and work at the new home instead.

  I loved being married to Jake. He never stopped being the perfect gentleman and was right when he’d told me, “the fourth quarter is where all the excitement happens.”

  Chapter 50

  I Finally Had My Happy Ending

  Before we knew it, we were approaching our first anniversary. I’d just walked out to the porch with iced tea. I set our drinks on a small table and was getting ready to sit on the Adirondack chair Jake had so graciously repaired a year earlier when he grabbed me and pulled me down onto his lap. He made growling sounds while kissing my neck. Lady, who’d been lying in the sun, jumped up thinking it was his invitation to play. An older and wiser Henry didn’t bother to lift his head.

  I closed my eyes as Jake buried his face in my neck. I sighed and refl
ected on our first year of marriage.

  “What are you thinking about?” he whispered in my ear.

  I had a silly grin pasted on my face when I answered. “About how happy I am.”

  “How happy we are,” he corrected.

  My eyes held a glint of mischief as I daydreamed about the past year with Jake and the marital bliss we’d shared. It was so different from what I’d had with Richard. There was passion with Jake. Lots of passion. But it was more than that. Our marriage was fun. Like the night he blindfolded me and guided me to the backyard where he’d set up a makeshift bedroom. We spent the night talking, drinking moonshine, and making love under the stars. Or when I surprised him with a new motorcycle. He’d had his eye on it and I bought it for him before he had the chance to buy it for himself. Our relationship was built on mutual respect, trust, and friendship. The thing I loved most about our marriage wasn’t that he couldn’t get enough of me, cellulite and all, but that we never, ever ran out of things to learn about each other. He was my best friend and always would be.

  Sometime during our first year together, I’d casually mentioned Richard once when Jake and I were watching a movie called Baby Boom with Diane Keaton. There was a part where the characters decide to make love. The scene fades to black and when it resumes four minutes later, they’d finished. I told Jake that I was all for a quickie, but there was something very clinical about the scene portrayed in the movie that reminded me of Richard. He looked over at me and teased, “Nine minutes I could understand, but four minutes isn’t long enough.”

  I remembered hitting him with a pillow and asking, “What’s so special about nine minutes?” His answer was a bite on my ear that ended with both of us on the living room floor sans clothes and surrounded by couch pillows.

  A gust of wind collided with some wind chimes and their melodic tinkling brought me back to the present and the man who held me.

  I pulled back so I could look at him. “You were right about the fourth quarter being where all the excitement happens. Married almost a year and I feel like we’re still in the honeymoon stage.” I could sense that he detected a hint of worry in my expression when I confided, “I hope that doesn’t change.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way it’ll change, Barbie. Passion is wasted on the young. For anybody who thinks it’s all over in their fifties, they’re in for a surprise. It’s just getting started and we’re living proof.”

  I shifted my weight and could feel the afterglow of that passion between my thighs. I’d woken up that morning to find my husband under the covers, with his face buried between my legs. He said it was his favorite thing to do, and I was more than happy to indulge his preferred hobby.

  I could’ve stayed on his lap all afternoon, but knew it was time to take my seat when he shifted beneath me because my weight was causing his leg to go numb. He slapped me hard on my butt as I walked away to plop in the matching chair.

  We sipped our tea and talked about how well Jonathan and Cindy had settled into their new home. We discussed which one of us would have time to take both dogs for their yearly shots and checkups. Jake made an executive decision that we would make the time to take them together. The subject shifted to motorcycles and somehow segued into gang names when I asked him if Kenny had one?

  Jake set his tea down and said, “Yeah, he had one, and I bet you can guess what it was.”

  I shook my head. “How in the world would I be able to guess Kenny’s nickname? He never had one when I knew him.”

  Jake challenged me to think about it, and when I still came up clueless, he rolled his eyes and said, “It was Hooch. Kenny’s gang name was Hooch. Before going to prison he’d made a batch or two of moonshine to share with his crew and the nickname stuck.”

  “Of course.” I slapped my thigh with a laugh. I was bringing my glass to my lips when I stopped and looked over at him. A thought had bubbled up from nowhere and refused to be stifled. “I can’t help but think that with all the shenanigans you’ve told me about you and Kenny in prison, and how you fooled people in the prison, that if you’d wanted to, you could’ve switched places with him.”

  Jake took a slow swig of his drink and rested the glass on the arm of his chair. He didn’t say anything, looking straight ahead.

  I tilted my head to one side and narrowed my eyes at him. “If you had switched identities with Kenny, would you tell me?”

  “First of all, you’re being ridiculous, Barbie.”

  I bristled at the comment. “Am I, Jake? You’re the one who told me that anyone could be bought and we both know you had and still have plenty of money. You and Kenny had everyone at the prison fooled. Why would it be ridiculous to think that for the right price a nobody in the prison infirmary could be convinced to switch out the names on an autopsy report? Huh? What if Jake Chambers is the one who died, and Kenny served out Jake’s sentence and was released? I mean if they knew everything about each other, Jake would’ve told Kenny where he hid the money.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It could’ve happened that way if we’d planned it ahead of time. But it didn’t. And seriously, sweetheart. Would you honestly want to know?”

  I sat up straight, startled by his question. “Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

  “Think about it, Barbie doll. If I tell you that I’m not Kenny, I’ll have to live the rest of my life with the disappointment I’ll see in your eyes.”

  “That’s not true, Jake!” I argued.

  “I know you think that, but I don’t know if I want to take that risk.”

  I made a face at him, aggravated that he could even think such a thing.

  “And let’s pretend for just a minute that I am Kenny. Do you think you can live the rest of your life with me knowing I was involved in a sexual assault?”

  I knew that Celeste had been the sole victim in that horrific scenario. But I also knew Kenny never would’ve deliberately participated in something so heinous. “A sexual assault that Kenny was forced into at gunpoint,” I corrected.

  He ignored me. “Or that I walked away from a potential relationship with Bevin to be with you? I could’ve told her mother to take a hike.”

  An unselfish and respectful decision on Kenny’s part to abide by her mother’s wishes, I thought but didn’t voice.

  After a long hushed moment, and having made my decision, I sank back in my chair. Not wanting to face any of the scenarios Jake presented and grateful that my husband had the wisdom to show me how some things were better left alone, I nodded my acceptance. All I knew was that I was deeply in love with the man sitting next to me and was excited to spend the fourth quarter waking up in his arms every day for the rest of my life. I got up and walked over to him. He held up his hand and I took it as I lowered myself back into his lap. We stared out over our property and delighted in what spring had delivered almost overnight. We’d finally figured out what to do with all that fertile earth. Rows and rows of brightly colored flowers stretched against a blue sky as far as the eye could see.

  “I love you, Barbie doll.”

  “I love you too, Jake.”

  His breath was warm against my ear. “It doesn’t get much better than this.”

  “No it doesn’t, Jake.” I sighed and realized I finally had my happy ending.

  Epilogue

  What Are You in the Mood to Have For Breakfast, Sweetheart?

  Spring and summer zipped past us, and before we knew it, an unusually cold autumn dropped in like an unwelcome guest. We were getting ready for church and I was fretting about having to dig out warmer clothes. Jake had already showered and was downstairs with the dogs. I was rummaging through my dresser when I remembered an old box of winter clothes I’d tossed in the guest room more than a year earlier.

  I found it stuck in the back of the closet and grimaced when I saw Fancy’s scarf on top. I couldn’t believe I’d never gotten rid of it. I would rectify that the next t
ime I put together a bag of clothes for charity. I tossed it aside and started wading through some scarves and hats I hadn’t seen in a while. I came across a large brown envelope that had been stuffed down in the bottom. It didn’t have anything written on it and it wasn’t until I undid the metal clasp that I remembered what it contained. Darlene’s daughter had given me Kenny’s medical file that she’d obtained, but because she’d told me what it said, I’d never felt the need to open it. For a reason I couldn’t explain, something prompted me to do so now. I pulled out the stack of papers and took a brief glance at the ones on top. The records reflected what she’d said. Kenny died of an infection.

  I don’t know why I felt compelled to look through the rest of his medical history. I checked my watch and had plenty of time, so I sat cross-legged on the floor and briefly scanned the papers. Danielle wasn’t kidding when she’d told me there was a record of every aspirin and antibiotic ever administered to Kenny. I was getting ready to put the paperwork back in the envelope when a specific word caught my eye. I blinked twice trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I brought my hand to my mouth in dismay when I realized that, while in prison, Kenny had been diagnosed with a malicious form of cancer. Much like the one that took Richard’s life, but even more vicious. It was a verdict without hope, and based on what I was reading, if he hadn’t died from that infection, he would’ve passed away soon after. Oh, Kenny. Life was so unfair to you.