A Date with a Turkey

by Dover, L. P.

  I pat my belly and shake my head. “Sorry, Mrs. Pritchard, I love pumpkin pie, but I don’t know if I could eat more than a slice or two.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “When it’s topped with my homemade pumpkin-flavored whipped cream, you can eat a whole pie.”

  She’s wrong. So, very wrong. “Let me think about it.” I wave and step away from the booth and back out into the crowd, hoping to hide among the masses. The rides are going, kids are laughing, and a man walks around on stilts making animal-shaped balloons.

  The whole reason I’m down here is to see Maeve. She said she was working but never mentioned if she’d be here or at the station. I probably should’ve checked the station house first since it’s closer to my office. As I round the bend to where the medic tent is, I see a group of kids standing there, undoubtedly collecting the free items they’re handing out. I know I took the stress ball and pen they offered.

  I don’t know what spurs me to do this, but I stop walking and just watch her interact with the kids as soon as I see Maeve. She’s crouched down to talk to the kids, whereas another medic is bent over. Maeve is a natural with the children. She pulls her stethoscope from around her neck, cleans the earpieces, and then gently sets them into a little boy’s ears. She holds the diaphragm up to his chest, and his eyes go wide. Oddly, I’m jealous of the attention and finally step forward. When Maeve sees me, she stands and takes her instrument back from the child.

  “Hi,” she says, which is much better than the last couple of times she’s greeted me.

  “Hey, Mr. Groff.” Logan comes up to me and gives me a fist bump.

  “Hi, Logan. You can call me Kyler or Ky. How come you’re not in school?”

  “Half day,” Maeve says. “My parents went over to Manchester to finish grocery shopping for Thanksgiving, and Logan didn’t want to go, so he’s here.”

  Something tells me that Logan is bugging his mom while she’s trying to work. “Why don’t I take Logan for a bit.”

  Maeve’s eyes go wide while Logan jumps up and down.

  “We’ll stick to the area, probably go sign-up for the pie contest or something.”

  “You don’t really have to this, Kyler. He’s fine, just hanging out.”

  Logan feels otherwise and lets his mom know it with a long, drawn-out, “Mom.”

  I set my hand on her forearm and let it slide gently down until our hands touch. I give her a reaffirming squeeze. “Until dinner, I’m free. I’d love to hang with Logan.”

  Maeve looks from me to her son and back to me. “Are you sure? He’s a good boy but a chatterbox and can be a handful.”

  “Without a doubt. We’ll be back,” I tell her. “Maybe with gifts and milkshakes.”

  Logan kisses his mom goodbye, and I leave my cell number with her, just in case. When we are a few feet away, I turn to see what she’s doing and find her staring at me. Well, more than likely, she’s watching her son, but for a moment, I’m going to assume she’s checking me out.

  “Do you work?” Logan asks.

  “I do. I manage about thirty banks all over New Hampshire.”

  “Do you have any kids?”

  “Nope, I don’t have a wife either.”

  Logan looks at me oddly. “If you had a wife, you wouldn’t be talking to my mom.”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

  I steer us toward the food trucks. I’m starving, and if I remember correctly, young growing boys can eat a house and still be hungry an hour later. Logan and I walk up and down the food alley, looking at the menu until we decide we’re doing to have deep-fried Oreos with vanilla ice cream and corn dogs. He wanted to top this off with cotton candy, but I told him there was no way I’m getting him high on sugar.

  We sit down at one of the picnic tables and dig in.

  “How do you like Plymouth?”

  “It’s okay. I miss my dad, but he’s never home, so at least I have my poppy.”

  “If I remember correctly, you’re a Ravens fan.”

  He nods, and his smile beams brightly.

  “You know you’re in Patriot territory, right?”

  Logan shrugs. “I know, but my mom says I can root for whatever team I want, and poppy says I can still be a Ravens fan and root for the Patriots.”

  “That’s until they play each other, right?”

  He nods. “Yep, then those Pats are going down.”

  I sigh. “Honestly, with the year they’re having, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “Do you ever root for other teams?”

  “Only those who are playing against the Steelers and the Cowboys.”

  “Yeah, Poppy doesn’t like the Steelers either.”

  Logan and I continue to eat our Oreo’s. This wasn’t what I had in mind for lunch, but it’ll suffice. We talk about his school and how he thinks it’s funny that his teacher also taught his mom. He tells me about his peewee team and how their season is almost done and invites me to a game next week, which I tell him I’ll be there.

  “Are you going to forget?” he asks. “Because my dad forgot all the time.”

  “Nope, I don’t forget anything.” I fetch my phone from my pocket and open my calendar. I type in “Logan’s Game,” add the time and location and click save. “There, one hour before game time, my phone will remind me. But I won’t need one.”

  Logan looks at me warily. I hate that look and wish I could understand why some people put their careers in front of their children. When Tessa told me she was pregnant, I never thought twice about leaving school. I was hurt, had a long road of recovery, and the kid who took my place as the starting quarterback was much better than I was. At best, I would’ve seen a down or two if we had a commanding lead. That was no way for me to earn a spot in the draft, so I bailed. There are times I regret it, but I’ve done pretty well for myself. I know I’m stuck in a small town, but it is what it is.

  After we gorge on fried Oreo’s and ice cream, Logan wants to ride the rides. In my first and only fatherly act, I tell him we must wait for a mandatory one-hour so our food can settle. I don’t know if this is true or not, but it seems plausible. All I know is, if I get on the ride right now, I’m heaving my cookies.

  We do end up taking Maeve a chocolate milkshake. According to Logan, it’s her favorite. I’ve taken this tidbit of information and locked it away for future use. She beams when he hands it to her and deems it to be the best milkshake she’s ever had. When a friend of Logan’s calls his name, he tells us he’ll be right back. I watch to see where he’s going and then step toward Maeve.

  “I may have fed him some sugar.”

  She sighs. “I figured. I forgot to set the rules.”

  “He totally suckered me with fried Oreo’s and ice cream.”

  Maeve laughs. “He’s very good like that. He’s definitely a sweet talker.” She steps away to talk to someone who has approached the booth. While she works, I study Logan and how he interacts with his friends. He’s much like me or much like most boys his age. We wanted to play football, get dirty, eat everything, and talk about pretty girls when our parents weren’t around.

  Logan comes back to the booth and asks me if I want to play some games with him and his friends. I stifle a laugh but quickly realize that Logan wants to include me. “You bet.” We tell Maeve we’ll be back, and we both say it in the Terminator’s voice.

  “You’re too young to watch a movie like that,” I tell him as we head to the games.

  “I haven’t seen it, but sometimes the commercial plays on TV, and mom tells me about it.”

  After an hour or two, I’m exhausted, and Logan has his arms full of stuffed animals. We head back to the medic tent with our loot.

  “Oh, boy,” Maeve says when she sees us. “Logan, what are you going to do with all these toys?” She asks as he dumps them down onto the table.

  “Well, I thought you could put them out here so the kids who don’t win can take something home.”

  Maeve sq
uats down so she’s eye level with her son. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Did you ask Kyler if it’s okay since I’m assuming he paid for the games?”

  Logan looks up and smiles. “Ky, is it okay if we give these away?”

  “Absolutely,” I tell him. Logan drops the toys and organizes them into a line. Once he’s done, he tells his mom he sees a friend and must say hi.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you for spending time with him. You didn’t have to.”

  “I know I didn’t, but I want to get to know him. Just like I want to get to know you.”

  Maeve blushes and looks down at the ground. I reach for her hand, locking my fingers with hers, and give her hand a gentle squeeze. She looks at me, her eyes bright but show so much fear. She’s been hurt, but so have I.

  “Dinner, at my place. Six sharp. I’ll text you the address.”

  “You don’t have my number,” she says quietly.

  “I do. Logan gave it to me. He says, and I quote, ‘It’s about time my mom goes out on a date.’”

  “He did not.” She covers her face with her free hand. On the inside, I rejoice. I’m still holding her hand, and we’re in public. According to Logan, this means we’re dating, but even I’m not naïve to think this to be true. Hell, we hardly know each other, but I am smitten.

  “He did.” I lean forward and brush my lips against her heated flesh. “I’ll see you later. I’m really looking forward to this evening.”

  I step away, but not before I hear her say, in the faintest of voices, “So am I.”

  7

  Maeve

  I have one hour before I have to be at Kyler’s for dinner, and I have no clue what to wear. Logan was ecstatic about my date, so he left early to go to my parents’ house so I could get ready. Seeing Kyler interact with Logan today at the festival made me see him in a different light. We had a breakthrough last night with our conversation on my front porch, but today, I got to see who he really is. The way he was with Logan is what I’ve always wanted for my son, to have that male figure to look up to. I have to tread carefully, though. I can’t bring people into Logan’s life just to have them not stick around. It’s not fair to him. Even though Ethan pays child support, in a way, I hate him for depriving our son of what he really needs.

  Looking in the mirror, I hold up a cream sweater and a dark brown one to see what they’ll look like with my jeans. My mother appears in the reflection and nods at the cream one. “I think that one will look great with your jeans.”

  I toss the brown one onto the bed and slide the cream one over my head. “Thanks. What are you doing here?” I straighten up my hair and face her.

  She smiles and nods toward the kitchen. “I made a carrot cake for you to take to Kyler. Thought you could have it for dessert tonight.”

  “You are really pushing for this to work, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes twinkle. “Maybe. I really like him, and I know he’ll be good to you and Logan. Something tells me it’s what he wants too. I think you should give it a chance.”

  My heart flip flops in my chest, but then it gets squashed when I feel the fear. “What if it doesn’t work out, Mom? I don’t want Logan to get attached to anyone who isn’t going to stick around.”

  She shrugs. “I understand, but you can’t live in fear. Taking chances is a part of life. You’re not the only one who’s been hurt, Maeve. Kyler’s taking a leap of faith too.” Her lips pull back. “Now you have fun tonight. Logan will stay with us, so don’t worry about coming home early.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “What exactly are you saying?”

  She giggles. “Oh, nothing. Just if the need arises …”

  “Okay,” I say, holding up a hand to halt her next words. “I get it.” The thought of sex makes me nervous. I haven’t been intimate with anyone since Ethan, and that’s been almost a year ago now.

  My mother laughs again. “Have fun, sweetheart. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She walks away, and I hear the front door shut. I take one last glance in the mirror and blow out a sigh. Am I ready for this? What if tonight does lead to sex? Don’t get me wrong, I’m way past due for a night of fun, but I can’t be stupid. If we were in Baltimore, it wouldn’t be so bad, but word spreads like wildfire in a small town.

  “You can’t live in fear,” I murmur to myself. Easier said than done.

  Once I slip on my boots, I walk into the kitchen to see the giant carrot cake on the counter inside the cake carrier. My mom even went all out and decorated it with little carrots made out of icing. I grab my phone off the counter and text Kyler.

  Me: On my way. Do I need to pick up anything?

  He texts back a few seconds later.

  Kyler: Nope. I’m good. Come on over.

  I pick up the cake container by the handle and hold a hand underneath to give it extra support. Years ago, my mom had made a cake for one of our family functions when my grandparents were still alive, and when she picked up the cake carrier, the snaps broke, and the cake fell to the ground, splattering all over the place. Ever since then, we’ve taken extra precautions when it comes to transporting food.

  Once the cake is in the car, and I’ve locked up the house, I head on my way to Kyler’s. It takes about seven minutes to get to his place. It’s a two-story colonial style home with steel-colored siding. I really like it. When I get out of my car, I can smell the grill and see the smoke billowing into the air from the backyard.

  Carefully, I grab the cake out of the car and shut the door with my foot. The front door opens, and Kyler walks out onto the front porch, dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved gray T-shirt that hugs his perfectly sculpted body.

  “What in the world do you have there?” he says, grinning wide.

  I walk up to him so he can see the cake. “My mom made it for you.”

  He slaps a hand over his heart. “And it’s my favorite too. Carrot cake is the best.”

  “Yes, it is. Well, other than chocolate milkshakes.”

  We both laugh, and he follows me inside so he can shut the door behind us. The house smells fantastic, and my stomach growls. I set the cake down on the kitchen counter beside the large salad bowl filled with bright green lettuce and toppings and look around. His living room is cozy with a brown leather couch and loveseat with the best view of the sizeable widescreen TV on his wall.

  “What are you smiling at?” Kyler asks.

  I nod at his TV. “Just thinking how much Logan would love to have one that big.”

  Kyler chuckles. “He’s welcome to come over here anytime. We’ll watch some football.”

  “Right now, we’re watching Cobra Kai together. We love it.”

  He beams. “So do I. I’ve already watched all the episodes. You’ll love the season two finale.”

  “I’m dying to get to it. We’re not allowed to watch any of it without the other. That’s our rule.”

  Kyler smiles and shakes his head. “Hearing things like that makes me really wish I had kids. You’ve got a good one, Maeve.”

  This warms my heart. “Yes, I do.” I breathe in the smell of food wafting from the oven. “And I think we have ourselves an amazing dinner coming up. What did you cook? The salad looks delicious.”

  He goes over to the oven and slides the mitt over his hand so he can reach inside. “We have baked potatoes in here, and our steaks should be ready to take off the grill in two minutes.” He pulls out our potatoes and sets one on each plate. There is even a row of butter, sour cream, fresh chives, bacon, and cheese off to the side.

  “I’m impressed,” I say as I survey the spread.

  Kyler smirks. “What can I say? I don’t do things half-assed.” He grabs a plate out of the cabinet. “I’ll be right back with the steaks.” He walks out the back door and comes right back in with two huge filets on the plate. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Stomach growling, I fill up my plate and pile the toppings high on my baked potato. Kyler does the same, and we sit down at the kitchen
table where there’s already a bottle of wine waiting for us. “Thank you so much for this. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I guess that chocolate milkshake earlier wasn’t filling enough.”

  Kyler snorts. “The same goes for the fried Oreos Logan, and I ate.”

  I take a bite of the steak, and it practically melts in my mouth; so tender. “I appreciate you spending time with Logan. I haven’t seen him that happy in a long time.”

  Kyler pours us both a glass of wine. “I enjoyed every minute of it.” He takes a sip of his wine. “He reminds me so much of you. Not the way you were in high school, but how you are now.”

  “Hey,” I say, tossing a tiny piece of bacon off my potato at him. “I was shy in school.”

  We both laugh, and Kyler holds up his hands. “And I was a prick. We’re not the same as we used to be, and I’m thankful for that.” He lowers his hands and stares at me. “I am curious, though. Was it moving to a bigger city that changed you?”

  Nodding, I finish swallowing my food before I answer. “It was a different way of life. Faster paced, more dangerous, and exciting. I always knew I wanted to get away from here. Start over somewhere else.”

  His smile slightly fades, and he averts his gaze to his food. “Does that mean you’re not going to stay?” When his eyes meet mine, I can see the seriousness in his expression. The only reason I would stay is to be with my parents, but I’m starting to think there might be something else I’d possibly be willing to stay for.

  “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be coming back. I see our town in a way I never did before.”

  Kyler nods. “I felt the same way when I came back. When I went off to college, I was ready to leave and make a name for myself.”

  “You did make a name for yourself. You’ve worked hard to get where you are today.”

  He smiles. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  “Are your parents proud of you?” I ask.

  Nodding, he eats a bite of his steak. “Oh yeah. Don’t get me wrong, my dad was looking forward to my NFL career, but both of my parents have supported my decisions.”