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“You set the pace,” he said.
“Got it.”
In the days Harry had been away, Cate had worked out a familiar routine. Three blocks toward the town square. Left on Court Street. One block over and then straight east toward the open fields and orchards. After half a mile, she turned back toward Grammy and Grandpa’s house.
There were plenty of streetlights closer to town, but out here, the country landscape was dark. Eventually, the sidewalk petered out. “I turn around here,” she said, puffing.
She had pushed herself hard, mildly disgusted to realize that Harry was breathing normally. The man was a machine. A computerlike brain. A body that could handle any punishment. And a personality perfectly happy to be an island. An uninhabited island, at that.
They had been running side by side. Cate slowed down, remembering this section of broken concrete. Now Harry was a few steps behind her. At least it was too dark for him to see her butt.
She half turned to warn him. “Watch your step,” she said. At that exact moment, her companion grunted, made a loudaaaaaghsound and hit the ground hard.
“Oh, my God. Harry!” She was at his side in a split second. Clearly, he hadn’t struck his head. If he had, he wouldn’t be capable of sitting up and cradling his right leg. Would he?
She grabbed the phone out of her pocket and illuminated the scene with her flashlight. Blood gushed from a cut below his knee. The knee itself was a nasty mishmash of dirt, grass, bits of gravel and more blood.
His palms were scraped, too.
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Caught my toe.”
She crouched in front of him. “It’s my fault,” she fretted. “I should have warned you sooner. I’ve been avoiding this spot every time I run. In fact, I usually move into the street, but it was so dark, I didn’t realize where we were. I’ll have to call 9-1-1.”
“No,” he roared. “That’s absurd. I’m not in any danger.”
“You might be disoriented from blood loss.” She was teasing him now, trying to lighten the mood, but Harry didn’t appear to notice.
“Quit worrying,” he said. “It’s nothing.”
It wasn’tnothing. It was very clearlysomething. But men were notoriously stubborn. Maybe that was sexist. Cate had her own moments of bullheadedness. Still, she wasn’t the one on the ground in pain.
“I think if we can get you on your feet, you can lean on me,” she said.
“Won’t work.” His response was instantaneous. “I outweigh you by a good fifty pounds.”
“You could at least try,” she said, trying to be reasonable and supportive at the same time. “Please, Harry.”
He capitulated, but he wasn’t happy about it. “Don’t try to help me.”
A tiny dogwood sapling in the yard of the nearest homeowner served as a brace for Harry to pull himself up. The effort took far too long. And Cate was going to have to buy the neighbor a new tree.
At the last minute, Harry lost his balance and fell sideways onto his hip, uttering a string of choice words under his breath.
This time Cate knew better than to hover. “Okay,” she said with faux calm. “Plan B. When I was getting a bicycle out of the storage shed the other day, I saw a pair of crutches. We’re about a quarter mile from the house. I’ll run as fast as I can, grab them and be right back.”
A long silence ensued. Harry didn’t protest this time, but he didn’t seem at all happy about her idea. “You can’t run if you’re carrying crutches,” he said, his tone snarly.
“Then I’ll walk fast. We’re out of options,” Cate pointed out tartly.
“Be careful,” he muttered.
“I will. Swear to me you won’t try to get up until I’m back.”
She still had the flashlight shining in his direction, so she saw the look of incredulity on his face. “No problem.”
It was ridiculous to worry about leaving him. In this town, no one was going to mug him. The worst thing that could happen was another skunk encounter. The random thought made her snort out a laugh. She bit down on her amusement quickly, but not before Harry scowled.
“Is my situation funny to you, Cate?”
