Jack slowly opened his eyes. Empty beer bottles stood in a row on the coffee table in front of him. The pillow was wet against his face where he had drooled. He flipped the pillow over and closed his eyes, but his bladder coaxed him back from entering his dream. On his way to the bathroom, he squinted at the microwave in the kitchen and saw the blue numbers showing 5:12.
On his way back from the bathroom, he grabbed his running clothes. He sat in his living room, laced up his shoes, and thought about the call from Julie the night before. She wanted to get back together, at least for a day. It was a start. The four of them together for the day at Nicollet Island celebrating the Fourth of July, Jack was excited about it. He glanced at the phone in its cradle and thought about the message, tempted to listen to it again. Maybe it was more than a start.
In the kitchen, Jack drank a large glass of water. The thermometer on the counter said it was already seventy degrees outside. Jack pinched the small roll on his stomach and decided to wear a tank top since he’d be running with Patty, if she showed up.
Jack pulled the front door shut behind him and positioned himself on the steps facing the house. His toes were perched on the edge of the concrete steps as he lowered himself to stretch out his calf muscles. He felt the calves of his legs slowly burn as the muscles lengthened like rubber bands.
“So you decided to show up,” Jack said to Patty’s reflection in the window as she walked up the front walk behind him.
“I didn’t think you’d be up this early. Seems like you’ve had some late nights lately with this investigation.” Patty stopped on the sidewalk and bent over into her own stretch, knees locked, her forehead pressed against them as she grabbed her ankles.
“Show off,” Jack said.
“Yoga, you should try it.” Patty put her hands out in front of her on the sidewalk and posed in an inverted vee.
Jack took the opportunity to check out Patty’s back, butt, and legs. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail. The white top showed off her brown skin and the muscles of her back, shoulders, and arms. Her legs were well proportioned from her taut hamstrings down to her defined calves.
Then he bent over to reach towards his toes, his fingers reaching his shins. “Whatever. You ready to run? I usually go down by the river, through the trees. Kind of gets you out of the city.”
Patty rolled her head from her left shoulder, to her chest, and to her right shoulder. Then she windmilled her arms in large circles. “Lead the way, Miller.”
By the time Jack reached West River Road, the sweat started to trickle from the pores of his head and his chest. Patty ran to his side or slightly behind him. “How’s this pace?”
“Six miles?” Patty asked. “This will work.”
Jack looked over at Patty. She was running easily alongside him, breathing without a struggle. “Am I the only one that sweats?”
“I don’t sweat, I glisten.”
“Well, you’re not glistening yet.”
Patty laughed.
The birds were flitting about singing their morning songs as the sky to the east warmed to an orange glow. Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and jogged automatically onto a path that led down into the woods, deeper into the Mississippi River gorge. A sign at the head of the path said “Winchell Trail.”
“This way,” Jack said and motioned down the hill through the trees.
Jack had explored the trail with his son, Willy, before. Its history was that it was an old Indian trail used to move up and down the bank of the river. Willy imagined the past as he walked down the trail with his dad and they found routes down to the river. The well-worn path through the brush and trees at spots had been paved or had chain link fences erected to keep people from falling down the steep slope.
The path offered some relief from the heat with the cooler night air trapped among the trees, but there was no breeze to evaporate the sweat from Jack’s skin and help to cool him. As he worked his way along the trail, he looked about twenty feet ahead for rocks, roots, and holes to avoid. He hadn’t sprained an ankle yet on a morning run on this trail and he wasn’t going to start today.
Jack also found that if he focused on the trail and where to step, that kept part of his brain busy and the other part of his brain found something else to keep it occupied, usually his cases from work. Patty hadn’t told him yet what she wanted to share with him and he was trying to decide if he should wait or push for the info.
“You were right, Miller.”
Jack yelled back over his shoulder. “What’s that?”
“This path down here is great!”
“Don’t tell anybody. I don’t want to share it.”