Running to Love

Inside, we were very formally seated, and the server quickly appeared to inquire about our drink preferences.

"Wine, Heather, or something else."

I enjoyed wine but never bought it in order to save money. That inhibition didn't apply tonight.

"Chardonnay would be perfect."

"No kidding," Kurt said. "My favorite, too. Two glasses, then," he said to our very attractive server, who smiled, nodded, and disappeared.

"It's beautiful in here," I said, gazing around in awe. Everything was plush and polished... and beautiful.

"It's a pleasant distraction from everyday life."

I wondered why an orthopedic surgeon needed to be distracted from life, and I think Kurt saw that question in my face.

He chuckled. "It just wears on you sometimes. If one of your kids makes a mistake, you help them understand what was wrong, and they move on. If I make a mistake, you can imagine what happens. At the worst, someone dies."

He took a little more than a sip of the wine that had just arrived.

"We need a few minutes," he said, smiling at the server who disappeared once more.

He set the glass on the table and looked at me.

"I'd trust you with my life because I'm sure you study and plan and then study and plan again."

"Thank you," he said, "and I do exactly that."

"And I've already trusted you with my ankle. That's a start, isn't it?"

That brought a big laugh from Kurt, who grabbed a menu.

"Let's get ready to order when she comes back."

I opened the menu and took a deep breath. I remembered my vow to just order and ignore prices, but these were hard to ignore. If I ordered a salad, steak, potato, and broccoli, it would be more than one hundred dollars. I could eat well for a week on that. I sipped my wine, which was extra, and I guessed he might want dessert as well. I forced a smile.

I ordered, as did Kurt. His was similar to mine, except he added some Pepper Pot Calamari as an appetizer. And two more glasses of wine. I decided I would politely refuse a third if that came up.

"By the way, thank you so much for setting up the water therapy for me. I feel like I've run ten miles when I finish that."

"Is your ankle surviving it okay?"

"I think it's helping my ankle too. It has a brace, but I think I'm about ready to try without the brace."

"Have one of the therapists check it first. They'll know whether you're ready."

"Okay."

Kurt was suddenly looking at me a little differently.

"So, tell me about your running. I assume, from what you were wearing and how you hurt yourself, you're more than a casual jogger." He had a sly little smile on his face by the time he finished saying that.

"I guess you could say I'm a serious runner, realizing there are many levels of seriousness with running."

"And what level are you?"

"That's debatable at the moment. In the process of being evaluated."

"And this little incident interrupted things?"

"A little, but not much."

"Before I forget it, be at the office on Tuesday, same time."

"I will. I need to get back to running... actual running.

I'd started on the second glass of wine and was happy when the calamari arrived. I needed to put something in my stomach to dilute the alcohol.

"Do you like it?" he asked when I had finished my first taste.

"It's good," I said simply. It wasn't something I'd order, but it was good.

"You'll be there soon," he said, picking up where we'd left off, which left me confused as I'd lost the train of thought with the wine and the calamari.

"Oh, you mean running outside again. Yeah, and I need to increase my miles, too."

"Getting more serious, then?"

"I guess so." I decided to just say it. "I'd like to qualify for the Olympic marathon trials." I hadn't said that to anyone yet because I'd been trying to decide. Maybe I was committed now.

"Wow, that's a lofty goal. You must have run some marathons, then."

"I've run one, and my time of two hours and fifty minutes encouraged me to do better." I tried to smile.

"What's the trial's qualifying standard?"

"Two hours and thirty-seven minutes."

"That's thirteen minutes, Heather." Kurt's forehead wrinkled as he said that.

"I know. Thirteen minutes sounds doable. Thirty seconds a mile is daunting."

"I'm not a runner, so I'll take your word for that."

Our food arrived, and all thoughts of running were banished by the delicious aromas that filled our nostrils. The first taste was even better, and conversation, other than about the food, was minimal. If I'd had food that tasted better than what I was eating, I couldn't remember it.

"Kurt, thank you so much for bringing me here. I'll remember this for the rest of my life."

"You're very welcome, and thank you for giving me a reason for coming here."

He raised his glass, and we tapped.

"To another evening at Berenson's," he said, winking at me."

Another evening here? My eyes were wide at that thought, but I was willing if Kurt was. He was very pleasant to be with.

"Shall we celebrate with a gooey desert of some kind?"

I decided he was tormenting me good-naturedly about my marathon ambitions.

"Help yourself," I replied, "but I don't need those extra calories to run off. I hope that doesn't upset you."

He chuckled. "Not a bit. I certainly respect your dream, Heather."

We'd finished the food and the wine, and we headed to the BMW.

I was curious now about what he had in mind for the rest of the evening. He headed toward my place, and I decided that was going to be up to me.

At my place, he jumped out and jogged around the car to open my door.

"That's about the extent of my running," he said with a laugh as he grabbed my hand to help me out of the car. I was thankful I had the mid-calf dress as the seat was very low, and exiting it was a little awkward.

"You look fit, though, Kurt."

"Oh, I go to the gym. I just avoid treadmills and roads."

My turn to laugh. But I had decided.

"Won't you come in for a while?"

He smiled. "Sure, but not too long. I have surgery in the morning."

"On Sunday?" I asked as I opened the door.

"I just found out about it today, and it's a minor emergency. They were willing to wait until Monday, but I didn't want to wait."

"Wow. That sounds like dedication."

"When you're in my line of work, you'd better have that."

"All of us patients hope that's true."

"I'm sure." He sat down on the couch and patted the other cushion.

Can I get us something to drink? Soft drinks and water are your only choices. And potato chips," I added.

"Sounds perfect, Heather."

As I was putting the chips in a bowl, I heard Kurt's phone ring. I had just opened the first Diet Coke when he appeared in the kitchen.

"Better hold up, Heather, and I'm sorry. There was a bad accident on the highway, and people need surgery, so I'm on my way. I really enjoyed this evening, and I'd like to do something with you next Saturday."

"I'd love that," I answered.

"Great."

He crossed to where I was standing, took hold of my chin, and kissed me.

"Don't forget Tuesday," he called over his shoulder as he went out the door.

I took a drink of Diet Coke and smiled. I was already looking forward to next Saturday night.

~~~

On Tuesday, I went to Dr. Clark's office and was met at the desk by someone new. Angela, the little name tag said, but that was the first step in the story. She was a blonde with nearly translucent green eyes, pale and very unique, along with a face that I certainly considered beautiful. The smock she was wearing hid most of her upper body, but when she walked to the copy machine, what I could see of the rest of her was.... Very nice indeed. I wondered if Kurt had any part in hiring her. Eh, she just worked here.

When the next person exited the inner office, I was ushered in directly to Dr. Clark.

"Good to see you, Heather." He lifted my leg and began poking and twisting.

"Good to see you too -- ouch -- I think," I said as I grimaced.

He smiled at me. "Getting better. Another week in the water, and you'll be ready to run."

My heart began to beat a little faster as I thought about running again.

"I think you mentioned something before about wanting to get a master's and then get into administration."

That came out of the blue, and I wondered why he'd brought it up. I may have mentioned it before, but I didn't remember.

"I've thought about it, but I'm not sure. I love teaching and being with the kids. I'd miss that if I were trying to run the school." I chuckled.

"You'd make a lot more money. The master's is worth it just for that."

"I suppose. I need to balance my priorities."

"Have dinner with me Saturday, and we can work on that."

I was twenty-six years old and a college graduate. I wasn't sure, at this point, that I needed or wanted Kurt, Dr. Clark, to determine my priorities. And would my yes mean another meal at Berenson's?

"Okay, for Saturday," I replied, and I must not have sounded very enthusiastic because I got a questioning look from Kurt.

I'm sure he said it very innocently, but he didn't know me very well yet. My parents had been very determined and very specific about what my future should hold for me. Banking, and if not that, the Law. No options and no variations.

I agreed with them when I was with them, but I wanted to be a teacher, and when the time came to sign up for a major, I signed up for education. When my parents found out, I and my major were rejected, and I moved out of the house and lived with Shelly while I went to school. Basically, I was disowned, and my parents wanted nothing to do with me. So, when it sounded like Kurt was doing the same thing as my parents had done, It ruffled my feathers, and I rebelled in my mind at least.

Actually, I rebelled physically, too, by lacing up my running shoes and spending twenty minutes on the pavement. I did use some discretion by taking it easy, but it did feel good to be running. I kept going to the water rehab but ran again on Friday. I think Dr. Clark had underestimated my body's ability to recover.

Kurt picked me up on Saturday evening and let me know we were going Italian. I liked some Italian, particularly Lasagna. At least my mother's Lasagna. She made it for all special occasions when there were more than the three of us eating together, at least until I moved out.

"Ankle feeling better?" he asked when we were on our way.

"It feels great. I think I'm ready to run again."

"Probably so. If you feel any pain, stop."

"I don't like pain, so that's no problem." He didn't need to know I'd already successfully experimented.

"That's good. Have you thought any more about the master's degree? And I somehow just assumed you were a good student. Was I right?"

"I guess. I graduated magna cum laude. It shows on your diploma, and then it disappears from your life."

"A little, but it should supply some personal satisfaction."

"Yeah, it does."

"So, master's degree?"

I wondered if he couldn't see that his question was annoying me. Maybe not, since he was driving.

"Maybe in a year or two," I said as decisively as I could.

He didn't reply. I think his type A personality was having trouble dealing with my hesitancy.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, with small talk about marathons and surgeries. The Lasagna was okay, and I had a glass of chianti, which was better than okay.

I dutifully invited him in, but he had to be at the hospital at 4:00 a.m., so he declined. We shared our second kiss a little longer this time, and I received a big smile when we parted.

"Enjoyed being with you, as always, Heather. How about a final check of the ankle on Tuesday?"

"Okay." School started again in two weeks, so Tuesdays were free.

I went inside, wishing I had another glass of chianti.

~~~

I had good runs on Sunday and Monday, which left me feeling very satisfied. I loved to run, even the long ones or the shorter, intense ones that had my legs aching and my chest burning. I was trying to imagine what another marathon might feel like, but knew that was hopeless. A fast half-marathon might give me a hint.

When I arrived at Kurt's office, there was no one else in the waiting room and no one behind the desk. I stood for a few moments, expecting someone to appear, but when no one did, I sat down and waited... and waited. At last, I heard a noise from behind the office door. It opened, and Angela appeared.

"Oh," she said rather coldly. "Um... "

"Heather."

"Oh right, Heather. You can go on in."

"Thank you," I said, hoping that my words were as cold as Angela's had been.

I went through the door and then into Kurt's office.

"Ah, you're here."

"No thanks to Angela."

"What? Oh, yeah. We were going over a few office things," Kurt said as he stood and rounded the desk, not looking at me as he did. He bent, took hold of my ankle, and slipped off my sandal. He sat down and put my heel on his knee, pressing here and there, then twisting twice.

"No grimaces. All must be well."

All was well with my ankle, but I already knew that. I wondered if everything else was "all well."

"You're ready for the road," he said with a smile.

"I've been running for a few days."

"I'm not surprised," he replied with a chuckle.

"Dr. Clark, Mr. Anderson is here," Angela said as she gave me a condescending smile.

"Sorry, Heather. I'd better take care of Mr. Anderson."

"No problem. Thanks," I said, stood up, and left the office.

Angela's attitude told me a lot. At least, I thought it did. Plus, I noticed there was no mention of Saturday night. I decided I'd probably be eating alone this next Saturday.

I was going to be teaching a new course this year. I knew where I was beginning and where I needed to be at the end, but I needed to plan the step-by-step process to accomplish that. To go along with my planning, I had decided to run twice a day in order to do a little catching up.

The planning turned out to be much easier than I had anticipated. The book was laid out in sections that matched the number of weeks in the school year, so I'd just have to cover a section a week with slight variations depending on the difficulty of the sections.

The running was going well, although I was feeling the extra work in my legs and my need to have an earlier bedtime. I was listening to my body so I wouldn't overdo things, and I was watching carefully where I stepped -- I didn't need another sprained ankle. I ran through Bronfield Heights, occasionally even past Sebastian Clarks' house, but I never saw father or son, which was fine with me.

I received a text from Kurt one week after the office visit.

How's the ankle holding up?

I debated about ignoring it but decided to take the higher road.

very well thank you

Good!

What was that about? If he wanted to get together with me, he knew how to do it. If he was expecting me to reach out to him, it wasn't going to happen. I wondered if he'd taken his big-boobed blond nurse to Berenson's yet. He had probably been having sex with her while I sat in the waiting room. Ugh, I wasn't a bitter person... normally.

School started, and, as usual, I was anxious to see who would be absorbing the math I was teaching. Since I was the assistant cross-country coach, I was getting some of my miles in with the team, which was fun. I ran with the boys most often as they ran more my pace and worked harder to keep me from getting ahead of them.

My shoes were testifying to all the running I was doing, and I needed a new pair. I always had two pairs that I alternated and often a third pair. I went to my regular outlet and, once inside, savored the aroma of new shoes. I looked around.

"Is David here?" I asked the somewhat good-looking but a bit chubby clerk who limped toward me.

"Sorry," he said, "but David moved to Phoenix with his girlfriend."

"There must be good money in selling shoes if they can afford to move to Phoenix," I said, teasing this guy who would probably be taking care of me.

"His girlfriend's a lawyer," he replied with a laugh.

"Not like school teachers, then."

Another laugh. "I take it you're a school teacher, then."

"Yep. I'm not getting rich doing that."

"Well, maybe you can help me out by buying some shoes."

"You work on commission?" I was surprised by that.

"No, no, but we need to keep the store open for me to have a job, no matter how little it pays."

"Got it. Well, I need a pair of Brooks Hyperion Tempo, size eight and medium width."

"Whoa. Sounds like you're a regular runner and know what you want. Let me check what we have."

He limped away to the back room, which piqued my curiosity. Usually, clerks at specialized running stores were runners themselves. This one looked a tiny bit overweight, and there was the limp. How pushy could I be?

"Got it," he said, waving a shoe box at me. "Not too many of these back there. This was the only one in your size." He opened the box and handed me a shoe.

"I'm not anxious to change shoes, that's for sure." Blisters or sore feet weren't conducive to getting ready for a major marathon.

I put the first one on, and it felt fine. I took the second from...?

"What's your name?" I asked as he handed me the shoe.

"Jarvis," he answered.

"I'm Heather, by the way." I put the second shoe on and laced it up. I stood and jogged the length of the store and back and couldn't miss the look on Jarvis' face.

"Tell me about your running," he said with a warm smile.

I hadn't shared my dream with many, but Jarvis seemed like an innocently friendly guy.

"I want to run a marathon fast enough to qualify for the Olympic trials."

"Holy shit, you ate a runner, aren't you?"

"I've got a lot of work to do."

"I'm a little jealous."

Jealous?" What was that about?

"I don't look like it now, but I was a pretty good Division III runner a few years ago," he said, eyes wide and smiling.

The "don't look like it now" was certainly true, but I didn't think he'd lie about it.

"But the limp," I began. "What happened?"

"My fault. I was driving too fast, slid off the road, and hit a tree. I was pinned in the car for almost thirty minutes. My leg was pretty well done in by the time I got to the hospital. They wanted to amputate my leg, but there was one orthopedic doctor who thought he could save the leg if I'd trust him because there could be serious complications involved. I had dreams of running again, so I trusted him."

I wondered if he could be talking about Dr. Kurt Clark, but I wasn't about to ask. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if that happened to me. I'd had a brief time away from running, but I knew it was only temporary. Seeing the look on my face, he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Listen," he said, "don't feel sorry for me. I believe there's a reason behind everything that happens, and I'm not talking about my stupid driving." A big smile crossed his face.

"Um, what's with that big smile?"

"Well, I'm through here in seventeen minutes, and I'd love to have some coffee or ice cream or whatever with you and talk about your running."

I had my new shoes, and I wasn't going to start my workout for another two hours. All the planning for my teaching was complete, so I had some spare time.

"Sure. That would be fun."

"Perfect," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Where shall we go?"

"There's a neat little coffee place next to the Dollar General just down the street."

I laughed. "I'll meet you in the Dollar General."

He did just that, bouncing through the door with a big smile.

"So what did you buy?"

"Nothing, but I could drop a bundle in here without even trying."

"Ready for coffee?"

We made the short trip to the coffee house, and we each ordered. Jarvis was a plain old black coffee drinker, while I used flavored creamer. There were plenty of tables, and we picked one near a window so we could see the trees, which weren't quite ready to change to their beautiful colors.