Shadows of Hope

Chapter 1

Today's workout takes us along a moderately hilly trail. A personal trainer and physical therapy assistant, Natasha runs the trails with ease while I huff and puff so far behind I can no longer catch a glimpse of her neon yellow Under Armor tank and short ensemble.  Used to my ineptness, we always rendezvous at the trailhead; Tossie looking like a fitness model and me, a grotesque mess of sweat and mud. 

Thus far we are the only two people cruising through the woods this morning which isn't unusual for 7:00 am on a weekend. If not for the cramp seizing my left side with the grip of a vice, I'ld actually enjoy the beautiful spring day with the slight breeze which dances around my face and the scent of honeysuckles permeating the air. Pops of color accent the path, a reminder that spring is a time of revival after a cold and bitter winter.

Snow came early this past winter, covering Nashville in early December and melting just four short weeks ago, signaling the end of March. As soon as the last of the icy wonderland disappeared, Tossie bought me a pair of running shoes and displaced me from the comfort of my bed to the dew-speckled outdoors.

Fatigue is starting to rear it's ugly head as my strides begin to shorten and my pace slows. Regrettably, I still have four more miles to complete. Refusing to give up, I visualize myself sporting a brand new bikini and sipping a cool drink, all-the-while floating on a cruise ship in the Pacific ocean.

It's been five years since I took a vacation.  Five years since I wanted to travel. 

Inspired by images of palm trees and margaritas, I experience a renewed sense of determination to complete my five mile run.

Quickening my snail's pace, I begin to round a blind bend in the trail when disaster strikes. Seemingly out of nowhere my left foot clips a tree root and I jolt forward.  A glimpse of flesh and the flash of blue and gold are all I notice before I crash full force into another runner rounding the curve at precisely the same moment.  Physics is clearly not a friend as momentum flings my slim body backwards, left elbow catching the jagged edge of a rock, tearing at the flesh and making me wince in pain before I complete a rough landing butt-first in the mud.

Wind knocked out of me, I try to regain even breaths while I sweep a cursory glance over the victim of my unfortunate clumsiness who has managed to stay upright.  He's tall, probably 6', with light brown hair carefully sculpted into short spikes and hazel eyes magnified by lashes longer than any male should have.  Wearing only a pair of blue and gold running shorts and Nike trainers, his body is fit for a Men's Fitness ad.

Great job Faith.  The first guy you notice in three years and you run him down.  

Excruciating but necessary, I pull my eyes away and take in the wide gash which zig zags along his right bicep, evidence of tangling with a tree at the edge of the trail. There are no other observable injuries however and I sigh with relief, glad I haven't permanently maimed a stranger. Tossie won't let me live this down when she finds out. 

The stranger stares back with an inscrutable gaze, lips drawn in a tight line, left arm propping his body up against an oak tree. I open my mouth to profusely apologize but he beats me to it.  

"Geez woman, you're a tornado on legs. Are you always this clumsy? " 

A deep frown etches across my brow, an apology no longer at the forefront of my mind.   Tilting my head to one side, I grace him with a glare colder than frost.  

"Are you always this rude or am I just that unlucky?"

He scoffs and pushes effortlessly off the tree trunk, striding over to where I'm still sprawled on the ground. "Why don't you just avoid casinos and running trails? Then everyone will be safe." 

My mouth gapes open, catching flies no doubt.  "You must have hit your head pretty hard on that tree trunk. That's the only explanation to make your blatant lack of manners even slightly acceptable." 

Ignoring my words, he crouches down, his piercing eyes scan my body, doing his own assessment of my injuries.  Unintentionally, my gaze is drawn to the hints of violet, interspersed with emerald green and carmel brown, swirling in those gorgeous eyes.   

Flushing, I hastily tear my eyes from his, searching for anything to concentrate on besides the maddening hunk himself.  

"I'm perfectly fine," he answers a bit coolly, "unlike you. Your left ankle appears to be swelling, you might have a slight sprain."  He reaches out his hand to gently prod my injured appendage causing sharp pain to shoot up my leg.

"Stop," I gasp as my ankle throbs and tears prick the edges of my eyes.  With certainty, I wryly acknowledge that my legs are now not the only part of my body aching with pain. 

"Sorry," he bites out gruffly, removing his hand from my foot.  "What happened anyway?" 

Biting my lip self-consciously, I feel my cheeks heat up to the color of a fire engine as I continue to avoid eye contact with the arrogant, rough guy squatting beside me, too close for comfort.  "I tripped on a root while I was running uphill."

He mutters under his breath, something to the tune of 'who trips going up hill' and shakes his head.  "You know, people generally avoid tree roots while running outdoors because they are aware of their surroundings.  I've never fallen running these trails." 

At this pompous statement I lift my head up and shoot him a look of disbelief.  "Seriously, you're  going to insult me when I'm just, well, a little clumsy?" 

He rears his head back, guffawing at my expense. "Ha! A little?  It's a safe bet you're a walking calamity."

Unamused, my lips press firmly, a stern line as I lean forward into his personal space, trying to appear tougher than my slight 5'4" frame looks. "Maybe you just have poor timing."

He volleys my glare with a sly smirk. "And maybe you just can't accept the truth." 

An inelegant snort escapes as I shake my head in derision. 

The nerve of this guy, making fun of my predicament and assuming he knows me.  Who does he think he is, CEO of the running world?

I gesture my hand in the direction of his defined, and very impressive, biceps. "Those steroids must be messing with your mind because I can't believe your momma wouldn't have brought you up with good manners."

Unfazed by my sass, he angles his large body towards mine and flicks my pony tail away from my face before rearing back on his feet.  "Manners are for the ladies, not little girls." 

My mouth gapes open, then closes, then drops again as I realize lurking under my calm facade is the un-ladylike urge to punch his perfect face.  The slight stubble lining a strong jaw and the dimple playing peek-a-boo in his right cheek may add to his good looks but his personality definitely leaves something to be desired. 

Drawing on my experience in yoga, I inhale deeply through my nose and out through the mouth for several beats before proceeding to paste a fake smile on my face and carefully raise up to standing.  Sarcasm tinges my words as I take one step backwards, away from all the egotism I can stomach for one day.  

"As much as I would love to stay and continue this illuminating conversation, I have plans.  It was undeniably not a pleasure to meet you." 

Without waiting for his undoubtably sarcastic retort, I turn my back in his direction. 

Grumpy and extremely uncomfortable, my assessment of my situation is less than stellar.  It takes me no more than five seconds to come to the unfortunate conclusion that I need to ask Mr. Ego for his assistance in making my way back down to the trail head where Tossie's car is parked.

Oh joy!