he’d kicked a puppy, albeit one with a nasty bite, he drove off to his solitary dinner. Several times while he ate, his mind wandered from the book he brought along to the scene on the porch, but it wasn’t the kid’s distress he saw. It was Cass’s. The same vision continued to plague him when he wandered aimlessly down the boardwalk, when he came back to his room and watched an old Clint Eastwood cowboy movie on TV, when he lay in the haze between sleeping and waking.
Each time he wished he’d been smart enough to help. Even now in the fresh light of a new day as he clamped first one knee, then the other to his chest, he tried to think of what he might say the next time he saw her.
Just ignore the kid. She’s just jealous and spiteful
.
Oh, yeah. Beat up on the kid. That’d impress Cass.
Pay no attention. She’s too blind to recognize true beauty when she sees it
.
He grimaced. A bit over the top, but didn’t women love compliments? And he really meant it about the beauty part. Just lookingat Cass was a pleasure. He rolled his head around on his neck, knowing he’d never say anything about how beautiful she was. He hadn’t the courage. Still, there had to be something comforting that wouldn’t embarrass either of them. He just needed to think harder, though why he was worrying about her was anyone’s guess. He barely knew her. Who had time for such nonsense?
You’ve got nothing but time
, another voice muttered.
Nothing but time stretching as far as your imagination can see
.
And just like that, the panic opened up again, this time in the form of a giant chasm gaping at his feet, huge, yawning, bottomless. A cold sweat drenched him, and his breath came in gasps.
So I have nothing but time
, he told himself as he took deep, steadying gulps of the cool morning air.
So what? I’m just on a prolonged vacation. That’s all
.
He didn’t believe himself. Vacations were supposed to be fun times, not days spent in an agony of uncertainty and fear, feeling useless and powerless. He put his hand out to support himself against the sycamore tree, waiting for the panic to pass, praying for it to pass.
The back door flew open. He jumped, looked up, and blinked in surprise as Cass Merton rushed out in a pair of running shorts and shoes. Her hair was pulled carelessly back in a ponytail. Her sweatshirt read Out of My Way; I’m Running.
She began stretching without noting him lurking behind the sycamore, and as he watched her, the black void at his feet slowly disappeared. His feet rested on solid ground again.
Her face was clear of last night’s hurt, but there were violet stains under her eyes, as if she’d passed a sleepless night.
“Good morning,” he said.
She stopped dead, her arms over her head, and gave a little bleep of alarm. As she lowered her arms, he noted that her left hand ring finger was bare. No hulking husband? Hard to believe.
“Sorry.” Dan held up a hand as he came out from behind the tree. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stopped in the center of the small courtyard behind SeaSong.
“Good morning, Mr. Harmon.” She gave him a stiff smile, and her cheeks reddened. Probably embarrassed as she remembered last night.
“Do you run regularly?” It was inane, but it was all he couldthink to say. The comfort well was still dry.
“I try for four times a week.” She smiled again, more naturally this time. “Sometimes I even make it, like this week.” She bent at the waist to adjust a sock. “It’s summer that gives me difficulty.”
“A full house and a load of work?”
She nodded. “But it’s hardly something I can complain about.”
They pulled their feet up behind them, touching their heels to their bottoms, stretching their thigh muscles. There was something pleasant about warming up with her, about finding her an exercise enthusiast like himself. Somehow the vision of her running off in one direction and him in the other seemed foolish.
“Where do you like
Each time he wished he’d been smart enough to help. Even now in the fresh light of a new day as he clamped first one knee, then the other to his chest, he tried to think of what he might say the next time he saw her.
Just ignore the kid. She’s just jealous and spiteful
.
Oh, yeah. Beat up on the kid. That’d impress Cass.
Pay no attention. She’s too blind to recognize true beauty when she sees it
.
He grimaced. A bit over the top, but didn’t women love compliments? And he really meant it about the beauty part. Just lookingat Cass was a pleasure. He rolled his head around on his neck, knowing he’d never say anything about how beautiful she was. He hadn’t the courage. Still, there had to be something comforting that wouldn’t embarrass either of them. He just needed to think harder, though why he was worrying about her was anyone’s guess. He barely knew her. Who had time for such nonsense?
You’ve got nothing but time
, another voice muttered.
Nothing but time stretching as far as your imagination can see
.
And just like that, the panic opened up again, this time in the form of a giant chasm gaping at his feet, huge, yawning, bottomless. A cold sweat drenched him, and his breath came in gasps.
So I have nothing but time
, he told himself as he took deep, steadying gulps of the cool morning air.
So what? I’m just on a prolonged vacation. That’s all
.
He didn’t believe himself. Vacations were supposed to be fun times, not days spent in an agony of uncertainty and fear, feeling useless and powerless. He put his hand out to support himself against the sycamore tree, waiting for the panic to pass, praying for it to pass.
The back door flew open. He jumped, looked up, and blinked in surprise as Cass Merton rushed out in a pair of running shorts and shoes. Her hair was pulled carelessly back in a ponytail. Her sweatshirt read Out of My Way; I’m Running.
She began stretching without noting him lurking behind the sycamore, and as he watched her, the black void at his feet slowly disappeared. His feet rested on solid ground again.
Her face was clear of last night’s hurt, but there were violet stains under her eyes, as if she’d passed a sleepless night.
“Good morning,” he said.
She stopped dead, her arms over her head, and gave a little bleep of alarm. As she lowered her arms, he noted that her left hand ring finger was bare. No hulking husband? Hard to believe.
“Sorry.” Dan held up a hand as he came out from behind the tree. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stopped in the center of the small courtyard behind SeaSong.
“Good morning, Mr. Harmon.” She gave him a stiff smile, and her cheeks reddened. Probably embarrassed as she remembered last night.
“Do you run regularly?” It was inane, but it was all he couldthink to say. The comfort well was still dry.
“I try for four times a week.” She smiled again, more naturally this time. “Sometimes I even make it, like this week.” She bent at the waist to adjust a sock. “It’s summer that gives me difficulty.”
“A full house and a load of work?”
She nodded. “But it’s hardly something I can complain about.”
They pulled their feet up behind them, touching their heels to their bottoms, stretching their thigh muscles. There was something pleasant about warming up with her, about finding her an exercise enthusiast like himself. Somehow the vision of her running off in one direction and him in the other seemed foolish.
“Where do you like
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