Chapter 8 William
Kit came bouncing down the back stairs the next morning looking totally refreshed.
I had thought Kit looked cute on Christmas Eve with her messy bun and oversized sleep shirt, but this was another level.
Kit looked hot. She had her hair pulled back into a neat braid, and she was wearing a loose-fitting zip-up hoodie over what appeared to be a spandex workout top and a pair of black leggings.
I tried not to look at her butt and legs as she crossed the kitchen.
I swallowed my coffee, trying to be as casual as possible. “Hey, still okay if I join you for your morning run?”
“Of course,” Kit said, getting a glass and filling it with water from the sink. “I’m surprised to see you down here this early in the morning. Usually, I don’t see you until sometime in the evening. I don’t think I’ve seen you before two p.m. since you moved in.”
“Except for yesterday morning.” I couldn’t help but point out that we had woken up together on the sofa the day before. I saw a slight upturn of the corner of her lips. She took a gulp of water.
Kit put the glass in the sink. “You ready?”
Kit told me the route as we stretched. “We’ll run three blocks in this direction and end up at the edge of town.
We’ll cross the street into the woods where there’s a trail.
We’ll take the trail until we reach the riverbank.
Then we’ll run along the riverbank for a bit, take another trail that loops us back to the main road, and run along that back into town. ”
I should have been tipped off by Kit’s expensive running shoes and the whole stretchy running outfit that I was in trouble. Kit wasn’t just fine, she was actually exceptionally fit, and it turned out she got that way by being a distance runner, something she omitted telling me the day before.
As we ran through town, Kit pointed out houses and told little stories about each family.
She didn’t even seem to be breathing hard.
At first, I was fine. But by the time we crossed the street and started running the trail in the woods to the river, I was struggling to keep up.
As we ran through the woods, she was completely unphased as she hopped around rocks and limbs.
Eventually, Kit led us up the trail which was on a slight incline to the top of a hill. When I reached the top, I saw that we were at the river. I stopped to catch my breath but pretended to be taking in the view.
“This is great,” I said, trying not to sound too winded. How was it possible that she wasn’t winded?
“Yeah, when I was a kid, I thought this was the most magical place in the world,” Kit said, her hands on her hips. We stood there for a second watching the water roll by. My breath created white puffs in front of me.
I was so glad Kit had invited me on this run. It was an unexpected bonus that the route passed along the property that Braithway & Randall were hoping to buy. The land was perfect for a variety of uses. My mind immediately went to work as I surveyed the land.
“You played out here a lot when you were a kid?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. In every phase of my life, I have spent time out here. As a kid, I thought the forest was an enchanted playland. As a teenager, my friends and I would bring tubes and float down the river in the summer. And then, when my mom was sick, we’d come out here together.”
“Really?” I asked. I saw the sad look in her eyes, but I could tell she also wanted to share this with me.
“Yeah, let me show you,” she said. I followed Kit down a path along the river until we reached a clearing.
A wooden platform had been built a few feet back from the river’s edge.
There was a wooden picnic table on the platform.
Kit jumped up on it. I joined her on the platform.
We were close enough that I could feel the heat coming off her body, but we weren’t touching.
“My dad came down from D.C. and helped me build this platform for my mom,” Kit said. “When she was feeling up to it, we’d park on the road and walk out here. Mom would paint or take pictures. Sometimes she journaled.”
“That’s really amazing, Kit.”
She turned and looked at me. I felt an uneasiness in my chest. “I can see why you’d want to keep this land. It must mean so much to you.”
“Well, I do love it, but honestly, my mom loved to share it with people.” Kit sighed and crossed her arms. “Aunt Rita says Mom would have sold the land if she’d had more time.
Maybe to a conservation group or something like that.
Just so people could get out there and experience this side of Creekstone, the part she loved.
” The corner of Kit’s lips pushed down in a forced smile.
She looked at the ground as she kicked some leaves with her feet.
For a moment, I could see Kit retreating.
I could see walls going back up, and I felt a sense of panic.
In another situation, I might have leveraged this opportunity to pitch Kit.
I would have worked to get her into a position to sell her land, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not there. Not then.
I cleared my throat and said as gently as I could, “Kit, can I ask you something personal?”
She looked up at me with an anxious look and nodded.
“Did you run cross-country in college? Because you were kicking my ass on that trail run.”
The sincerest laugh escaped from her lips, and her face transformed back to the Kit I had spent Christmas Day with. I felt relieved.
“I did,” she said as she stepped down from the platform. “You look so incredibly fit. I’m surprised you struggled at all during the run.”
“Okay, I’m going to tell you something, and you can’t laugh at me,” I said as I followed her down the trail.
“No promises,” Kit joked.
“I’ve only run on a treadmill for the last five years. So this, real trail running, is brutal.”
Kit laughed. “That explains it.”
We started walking down the trail and back toward town. Kit was gracious and walked us home at a leisurely rate.
I asked, “So, why a librarian?”
Kit was watching the ground as we walked, maybe to avoid tripping on a root or a rock, but I could still see the corners of her mouth pull back into a slight smile.
“Oh, you know. The usual things,” she said cryptically.
“Which would be…you love being among timeless stories and poetic verses?” I guessed.
“More like, I like being a sentinel of intellectual freedom and free speech, the pillars of democracy.” She grinned.
“Ah, that ol’ chestnut,” I said, to which Kit chortled.
We spent the rest of the day together. As soon as we got home, we each showered before meeting back downstairs to make lunch.
After lunch, we both brought our laptops downstairs, and I worked a little while we watched football.
In the evening, Kit made a fire, and I made us drinks with the expensive whiskey Braithway had sent me.
Kit convinced me to watch another Christmas movie, and when she started to fall asleep, I gently nudged her awake so that she could sleep upstairs in her bed.
Over the next week, everyday was pretty much the same.
We got more into a routine, and we each began to relax.
I looked forward to our morning runs, and it wasn’t just because I loved seeing Kit in her tight running leggings, but also because I loved seeing Kit by the river.
Every day she’d show me another spot in the woods that she loved.
It was like seeing a part of her that she never showed anyone else.
Kit and I transitioned from watching Christmas movies to watching the best Christmas episodes from our favorite TV shows.
I worried less and less about my empty email inbox.
I started looking forward to our evening cocktail by the fireplace, and I dreaded when Kit’s eyes would get heavy and she’d eventually tell me she had to turn in for bed.
I felt a twinge in my chest, something chemical in my brain, everything she said and did just seemed fascinating.
Normally, after spending two days with someone, I would want space, but I found myself plotting ways to keep her talking and to keep her close to me.
It wasn’t something I’d ever experienced before.
One evening it rained, so the next morning a thick fog had rolled in.
Kit told me it wasn’t safe to run when the fog was that thick and suggested we skip our morning run.
I still went down early to get coffee and eat one of Kit’s breakfast bagels.
When I got downstairs, I heard some shuffling from the hallway.
I peered down the hall to see what it was.
The noise was coming from a utility closet.
I called out, “Kit, is that you?”
A loud clatter came from an open door in the hallway. I hurried over and opened the closet door. Kit was standing on a ladder inside the large storage space, and below her there were several fallen boxes.
I asked, “Do you need help?” I hurried into the closet with her and started stacking the boxes.
“I didn’t think I needed help, but maybe I did,” Kit said with a laugh.
She got down from the ladder. “I wanted to put away some of our Christmas decorations today. I know a lot of people think it’s bad luck to take down your Christmas tree this early, but honestly, if I don’t take it down now, it will be up until Easter.
Things get super busy at the library in January.
Everyone makes a resolution to improve themselves, so our fitness and healthy living sections get a lot of traffic. ”
“Let me help you,” I said, picking up the empty boxes.