“So if I decided to go for a walk near the old ball field and found myself at that willow tree, you might be there?” she asked.
“I might very well be there. A man might need to stop and rest toward the end of his morning run. Now, I reckon I’d be sweaty, I warn you.”
“I’m not afraid of a little sweat,” she said in a husky voice that sent a ripple of awareness through me, “So what you’re saying is if I brought you a bottle of water that might be a charitable thing to do?”
“I always take a bottle of water with me,” I said.
“Oh. So there’s no reason for me to bring you water out there?” she said archly.
“On second thought, I wouldn’t want to dehydrate what with the weather warming up and all. Just to be safe, you might help me out with that.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. If you happen to run by,” she said.
“Oh, I’ll be there,” I assured her.
“You’ve got yourself a date,” she said with a grin.
“I’m so glad your stupid brother hit me. If he hadn’t, you’d have never shown up here tonight,” I said.
I kissed her again, and as I did, I wondered how I’d gone all this time without kissing her. She folded into my arms perfectly, the shape and size of her fit just right. I liked reaching down for her, lifting her just a little off her feet, which made her giggle. Even as I kissed her goodnight, I was already living for seven in the morning.
“Sarah Jo?” I called as she was leaving.
“Yeah?”
“You’ll be there tomorrow?” It pained me to admit I was unsure, but I had to ask. I couldn’t go through the whole night counting on seeing her on stealing that time together only to have her fail to show up. I needed to know she was as serious about it as I was. That she wasn’t just playing around.
“I promise,” she said.
She said it so easily, like a promise was no burden to her. Her sureness alone was beautiful, even if she hadn’t had that pretty face and those laughing eyes and the freckles she used to try and scrub off when we were kids. Seeing her smile then almost broke my heart. I can’t say why, but she was so complete to me, so much herself, the girl I’d grown up with who was funny and fierce and always digging in the dirt and the woman she was now, moving back to take care of her dad, strong and brave and good. For a minute there, I just stared after her and couldn’t believe my luck.
13
Sarah Jo
My workout clothes hadn’t seen the light of day since I moved back home. I had been more of a yoga girl than the kind who went for a chilly morning run, but no one around here knew that. So I put on my yoga clothes and sneakers.
I jogged a couple of blocks—not effortlessly—and decided to stroll the rest of the way while elegantly clutching the stitch in my left side and wondering if that was the side my appendix was on. I wondered if a twenty-four-year-old could die from struggling to run two blocks. I coughed and cussed for a block before straightening up and resolving to do some sit-ups or something else soon. It was a little embarrassing to be that out of shape that quick. I was strong—loading lumber and unloading supply trucks would do that—but my lung capacity sucked.
A slight twinge of doubt settled in my chest as I approached the old ballfield. What if he hadn’t come? What if he changed his mind? I plunged back into my fifteen-year-old self for half a minute and considered breaking into a hopefully casual jog and going right on by like I wasn’t waiting on him. Like I had gone out for a refreshing morning run. But the urge to hide, to protect myself from disappointment, sailed away as quickly as it had gripped me. I could see bright orange sneakers underneath the trailing boughs of willow. I stifled a laugh. I parted the fronds and found Luke leaning against the tree trunk.
“You’re here,” he said.
“Yeah. But I’m a little disappointed. You said we’d be better at sneaking around now that we’re grown, but your running shoes are so bright they can be seen from space,” I laughed.
“They have to be visible, so I’m not run over in traffic if I run at night.”
“Do you run at night?”
“Not usually, but it doesn’t hurt to take precautions.”
Luke pulled a thermos out of his backpack and opened it. It smelled like rich, coffee bean paradise and I took a sip. “There’s no sugar in this,” I accused. “What’s the point?”
“I blame Ryan talking about keto all the time. I gave up the sugar.”