Get Well Soon

  Get Well Soon

  Small Town Stories, Volume 2

  Merri Maywether

  Published by Merri Maywether, 2018.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  GET WELL SOON Copyright © 2018 Merri Maywether. Cover Design by Mariah Sinclair. All Rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address merrimaywether@gmail.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Just Wondering

  Some Guys Have All The Luck

  Just Six Months

  Where Were You?

  You May Kiss The Bride

  My Wife

  What Are The Odds?

  Benefit of Being Good Friends

  Travel Brochure

  If Only Life Were That Simple

  Male to Female Ratio

  Ever Since

  I Love It When You Use Big Words

  Not It

  Butter Him Up

  Time for a Friend

  I Never Said...

  All Four Food Groups

  Listen to Love

  Some Sort Of Flu

  Eighteen Holes

  Epilogue

  Keep in Touch

  Other Books Written By Merri Maywether

  Preview of another best friends romance: Marry Me Kate

  Sign up for Merri Maywether's Mailing List

  About the Author

  It's the small gestures and the kind words you say that make my day.

  Just Wondering

  Becca was on the lake with the sun on her back and her best friend, Donovan Garrison beside her. That alone made it the perfect summer day. The warm sun that hung high above them just made it that much better.

  “I’ll give you a thirty second head start. “Ready, set, go!”

  “Wait!” Becca held her oar in front of her. “I want at least a minute head start.” Donovan had always been stronger and faster than her. With a minute lead, she had a chance at tying him in a race.

  “Alright. A minute.”

  Becca paddled before he started the count.

  He yelled out, “Cheaters never prosper.”

  She didn’t let that deter her. Instead, she dug deep and focused on what she could control: her breathing. In two, three, four. Out two three four. Becca trained her eyes on the water. It splashed enough for her to know her oar had made the right level of contact. She couldn’t afford to waste energy or momentum when she raced against Donovan. Pushing the oar to propel the kayak, she kept her eye on the prize.

  Ahead of them, trees dotted the edge of the lake. The haphazard pattern, distinct enough to mark the shoreline came into focus as she approached their destination. I might beat him this time.

  The tip of Donovan’s kayak came into her field of vision. Her biceps burned, but that didn’t discourage her from pushing forward. They only had twenty feet left to go. Becca gave it all she had. The loser had to buy the winner dinner. Rather than focus on the outcome, Becca kept her eye on the finish.

  When she crossed the line, she raised her oar in the air. In an unusual turn of events, Donovan was half a boat length behind her. He lost?

  “It looks like I’m buying dinner.”

  Becca may have been mistaken, but if pressed, she’d have said there was a twinkle in those chocolate brown eyes of his. He was smiling like he won.

  “Did you have double shots of protein in your drink today?” Donovan crawled out of his kayak onto the dock and stooped down to help Becca out of hers.

  He was a gracious loser too? Becca suspected something was off but couldn’t identify it. “Are you sure you didn’t let me win?”

  She never got her answer. Somewhere between mid-stand and her straightened posture, Donovan lost control of the kayak. Her arms flailed to help her catch her balance, but there was none to be found. The boat rocked side to side. And, the next thing she knew, a cold rush of water had shocked Becca senseless. Like an ice cube in a glass of water, she rose to the surface and sputtered. “You did that on purpose.”

  Donovan covered his mouth with his hand to hold back the laughter. It didn’t work. Wearing a grin wider than he should have had, given the circumstances, Donovan held out his hand to pull her onto the dock. “I don’t know what happened.”

  Becca splashed water at Donovan. “I can get out on my own. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m one of your ex-girlfriends.”

  “I’m sorry, honestly.” Donovan extended his hand further out.

  “I bet you are.” Becca took his hand and pulled him into the water. He had to have expected payback.

  But he hadn’t. Donovan waved his arms as though they had the power to propel him to flight. When they failed, he landed with a cannonball size splash beside her.

  She tried swimming to the dock before he rebounded from the surprise attack. This time he was faster than her, and he arrived at the steps of the dock before her. Instead of climbing up the stairs as she expected, he turned around in just enough time for her to glide into him.

  Bracing herself for the collision she squinted. Donovan wrapped his arms around her. His hold softened the effect of the crashing of their two bodies. Becca relaxed in his arms. The contest was over. They were back to being friends.

  The only thing preventing direct body contact was the two bulky life vest around their chests. Floating in the water face to face, they alternated between laughing and trying to catch their breath. It had been a common occurrence between them lately. They’d be in the unlikeliest circumstance and end up a little too close. When they settled, Donovan’s eyes searched hers for something. “Why haven’t you got married yet?”

  He knew the answer. Donovan was the one who protected her from rebound romances after she broke up with every single one of the cheating boyfriends she had.

  “Because men are a species of animals that cannot control their urge to plant their seed in the first garden that comes along.”

  He flinched at her answer.

  “Too bitter?” He didn’t deserve her wrath. If anything, she should be the one paying for Donovan’s gym membership. He was the one who joined her in the potato chip, chocolate milkshake binges she used to soothe her aching ego.

  “Just a little.”

  “Sorry about that.” It had been two years since the last boyfriend. Maybe it was the frustration from arguing with her biological clock. Unlike her friends, it wasn’t buying the I’m happy being single story. Lately, it was screaming at her to take a good look at Donovan. She was thankful for the life vest because she didn’t know if she could hold herself responsible if they had made actual body to body contact.

  Out of nowhere, something rubbed up against her leg. If she hadn’t seen a video about snakes that swam she might have been okay. But, she had seen the video, and her imagination took over and decided some sort of prehistoric water snake had come to make her its next meal. Becca squirmed to get away and squealed, “Something rubbed up against me!”

  Donovan’s grip around her remained firm. “Contrary to what half the women in this county would say, it wasn’t me.”

  She was in heaven. Being in Donovan’s arm was perfect and wrong. They were best friends. “I know it wasn’t you, silly. It was around my knee.”

  With the joke, the moment passed, and Donovan loosened his grip and guided her to the ladder. For a minute there
, she thought he was going to kiss her; and if she were honest with herself, she wouldn’t have minded.

  By the time they loaded the boats into the bed of his pickup, Becca had talked herself down. Their friendship was far more important than a brief fling. The we’re just friends talks she’d been having with herself were happening more frequently and were beginning to disturb her. Perhaps it was time to create a little distance between Donovan and herself. It wouldn’t be for a long period of time; maybe just enough time for her to get to a place where she would relearn perspective when she was around him.

  SHE WAS CONSIDERED a “townie” and Donovan, who lived in the house his father built on his family farm, was a “farm boy.” When they were younger, the geography made it hard to nurture their friendship. They depended on family or friends to drive them to each other’s houses.

  Even then their fathers’ vigilance set the tone of their relationship. Becca thought she was going to die every time her father said, “Leave room for Jesus and the disciples to sit between the two of you.”

  Granted, it wasn’t as bad as the time when Donovan’s grandfather invited her to help one calving season. With his hand elbow deep in a cow’s nether regions, he said, “This is what birthing is like.”

  Here they were well into their adulthood, and Becca found herself still respecting the edict handed to them over thirty years ago. She sighed at what never was, and what she wished could happen and let the idea float away.

  In the close quarters of the pickup, Donovan grew quiet. Quieter than usual. Perhaps losing bothered him more than she realized. As though he felt her gaze upon him, he turned to meet her focus. Having nothing to say, Becca quickly returned her attention to admire the landscape.

  No two days were the same where they lived. One day the road from the lake to the sleepy town of Three Creeks was brown with dry grass; and the next, an array of sweet clover had blossomed and covered the landscape with a golden flowered carpet. She loved when the flowers bloomed. It meant a season had passed and a nicer one was approaching.

  Donovan’s silence lasted until he guided the pickup into a parking space. He shifted the gear into park but left the engine running. “I was wondering.”

  Becca blinked away the beginnings of her recurring daydream. The one where she and Donovan were more than friends. “About?”

  He hesitated. “It can wait.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and moved to open the door.

  “No, tell me,” Becca pressed. When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Please.”

  “Do you think you’d be up for a game of golf tomorrow? I know it’s short notice. But, if you don’t have anything better to do. I’d love to spend more time with you.”

  The only thing she had planned was washing a load of laundry. Golf with Donovan or laundry? It wasn’t that difficult to decide. “Do you want us to meet somewhere or drive separate vehicles?” If she drove her own car, she could stop at the grocery store on her way home. If she rode with Donovan she’d use the leftovers from wherever they ate afterwards for lunch.

  “I’ll come by the house and pick you up. I don’t want you leaving in the middle if I get too far ahead.”

  “Sure. I’ll buy lunch,” Becca offered.

  The smile from earlier returned. If Becca didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn Donovan had read her intention. Maybe she’d start the plan of spending less time with him on Monday when they went back to work.

  She made a mental note to pop in the cooperative extension office down the hall from the office where she worked. They kept a list of activities around the community. She only needed one or two of them to keep her mind occupied on a topic of something other than Donovan.

  When Donovan opened the door to the Keane’s pub, Becca felt her mood change. Her troubles remained out on the sidewalk. If she was lucky, they’d be gone by the time she finished dinner. Inside the door was a world where Becca called most of the people who passed through the door a friend. Even if they didn’t talk on a day to day basis, or know the person passing by their table, everyone smiled a greeting.

  They had been going to Keane’s ever since the doors opened when they were in their early twenties. For weeks that seemed like they would never end, Donovan, Keane, and their best friend Kent worked on making Keane’s teenage dream a reality.

  The three friends transformed the floor level of what used to be a downtown hotel into the pub. Wanting to keep the integrity of the building, Keane preserved the chandelier lighting and polished the all-wood surface until it gleamed. Built with a lighter shade of hickory wood than the flooring, the beams, ceiling, and the tables became a part of the architecture. Keane managed to create a classy environment that said, “Welcome home,” to everyone who passed through the doors.

  Standing behind the taps, Keane greeted them, “You’re here earlier than usual.” His eyes assessed them as though he were looking for something.

  Becca guessed that Keane had sensed the difference in Donovan as well. She offered what she hoped was the answer to the unspoken question. “I finally beat Donovan at a kayak race. So, the score is D- four hundred and fifty-one and Becca one.” She exaggerated the numbers to let them know her winning wasn’t that big of a deal. If Donovan wasn’t so distracted, he would have easily won.

  Keane threw Donovan a quick glance. The only other way his thoughts would have been any clearer was if someone had written a large question mark in the middle of his forehead. She hadn’t answered his question.

  “What’s going on?” Becca knew the friends had secrets between each other. For some reason, this secret had something to do with her, and she had a bad feeling about it. “Is he still mad about the surprise fortieth party I threw for him?”

  “Nah, payback will come soon enough,” Donovan picked up his pint of beer. “I have two years to get you back.”

  Keane rolled his eyes and went to the other end of the bar to help another patron with an order.

  Becca turned to go to one of the tables set away from the bar. She and Donovan had barely sat when Kent strolled in through the door. His eyes scanned the room and stopped on Becca and Donovan. He continued his course to the table and pulled a chair over to join them. His broad smile bordered on enthusiastic. That was the second flag that something was up. Kent was never enthusiastic. His smile was still wide when he asked, “How’s it going?”

  Donovan cleared his throat before answering. “Not much. We’re just stopping for a bite after kayaking.”

  “Just kayaking?” Kent seemed disappointed by the answer.

  “We’re golfing tomorrow.” The delivery was another hint that the men were up to something. It sounded more like an explanation than a statement.

  "You can join us if you want," Becca offered. It had been a while since Kent and Donovan had played.

  Kent and Donovan had a silent conversation that mirrored the one she had seen between Donovan and Keane. The feeling that they were in on something and had left her out took the fun out of the meal. It was then that it dawned on her that Donovan might have the same idea as her. He wanted to create a little distance between them and was trying to find a way to break it to her. Maybe that’s why he let her win in the kayak race. To be fair, not that it would be that hard, she’d let him win the golf game tomorrow.

  THE WEATHER WAS PERFECT for their weekend plans. Sunday afternoon was just as sunny as the day before, and Becca was not going to complain. However, her weather app predicted high winds and an inch of rain for Sunday evening.

  For the time being, she and Donovan were the only people on the nine-hole golf course. However, when they left the driving range, she peeked over at the parking lot. The increase in the number of cars in the parking lot told her they would have a course full of people soon enough.

  Donovan noticed as well and pressed her to get going. Because he lost at the kayak race, Becca thought it was only fair that he was the first to tee off. He swung the club using perfect form. Of course, his drive was perfec
t. His fluorescent yellow ball landed on the edge of the green.

  While Becca liked to golf, she wasn't as proficient at the sport as her best friend. She rehearsed her swing in her mind and set the ball on the tee. Eyeing where she wanted the ball to land, she stepped forward to position herself. If she did everything right, her ball might land in the middle of the fairway.

  “You’re going to hit that tree if you don’t shift a little,” Donovan coached.

  Becca turned her head to see what he was talking about and sure enough, Donovan was right. She pivoted less than an inch and swung to hit the ball. It made it to the green and landed a couple inches away from Donovan’s ball.

  Pleased with the result, she smiled but refused to allow herself to get too caught up in the feeling. Golf was a long game, and the simplest of mistakes could ruin a person's score. She thanked Donovan, "You're a good coach."

  He smiled, "You mean partner. I just told you what to do. You're the one who swung at the ball."

  Donovan didn't gloat that he was right? Becca kept her comment to herself and walked alongside Donovan with her clubs to the green.

  They parked their clubs at the far end of the green and set up to putt their balls into the hole. Donovan missed the hole with his first putt. His miss pushed at the edge of Becca's confidence. Usually, his short game was stronger than hers. If he missed, she surely was going to have a problem. To her surprise, she made it in one putt, which gave her the lead over Donovan at the first hole.

  After he made the putt, Donovan went to the hole to retrieve the balls. However, instead of giving Becca her ball, he shoved it in his pocket.

  “That might be my lucky ball,” she joked.

  Donovan pulled his hand out of his pocket held out a small black velvet box for her to accept. “Remember the agreement we made when we graduated from college?”

  Becca thought she knew what he was talking about. But she wasn’t forty yet. He couldn’t be talking about that one.