“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. Iwould 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 downstairsto 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.
