Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

commercial wharf and pointed her toward the mouth of the harbor. Art made his living lobstering, and Jack knew that there weren’t too many days when the ocean was as flat as it was this morning. This would make Art’s job much easier.
    As he watched the Sea Witch glide through the stillness, he recalled similar conditions just months ago when Art rescued him and Max after Irrepressible sank. The morning’s sense of perfection shattered, and a great sadness washed over him.
    Now his eyes were drawn first to the empty pier in front of Ben’s and then out to the mooring where Irrepressible should have been floating peacefully. She had been his pride and joy for nearly twenty-five years. Some of the happiest days in his life were spent on Irrepressible , as he sailed her all over the Caribbean during his youth. When the woman he loved was killed, Irrepressible carried him north to Rye Harbor in New England, and in the process helped heal his soul. Every great event in his life had included Irrepressible , and now, looking out over the harbor where she should have been, all he had were her memories. He turned and began walking home.
    About halfway back, a radio show, that he had heard recently, suddenly flashed through his head. The topic was unique destinations for the fall foliage season. The woman being interviewed told how she and her husband came to run a bed and breakfast up north called The Quilt House, which was named for the quilts they had found in the house when they bought it back in the early seventies. As she recounted the story, she told how she had even written a book back then based on some letters they had found in with the quilts. Now Jack made the connection, she had written the book that Max was reading. As he recalled more of the interview, he remembered that her husband was a runner and he had cleared miles of trails for hiking, skiing, and running, which made their B&B a popular destination for sports-minded people.
    An idea began to form in his mind, and the melancholy that he had felt as he looked over the harbor began to lift. What if he took Max up there for a few days? It would have to be after Columbus Day because of work, but by then the leaf-peeping crowds should have thinned. As an added bonus, he could get in some trail running as part of his preparation for the Rockdog.
    The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed. He would set it up so it would be a complete surprise for Max. By the time he reached home, he was all smiles as he thought about how he she would react.

CHAPTER 3
    “MAX,” SAID JACK AS HE SAT at the bar at Ben’s nursing a beer. Several days had passed since he had made his mind up to ask Max about going up north. The night was nearly over and Jack was the only customer left in the bar, although the dining room still had a few. He had done the research, made the reservations, and now it was time to surprise her. This was usually tough to do, considering all of these years they had been together, first as friends and then as a couple. Now he was sure he would succeed.
    She turned toward him, but before she could say anything, he asked, “What would you say to getting away, maybe going up north for a weekend sometime this fall?”
    She froze and silently stared at him, stunned, as his words echoed in her ears. “A weekend up north?”
    “I’ve made reservations for us at a B&B just after Columbus Day. I thought it might be fun.”
    She still didn’t move, and her expression remained frozen. As she continued to stare at him, her mind started racing. “This is not like him. He’s up to something―what?” If she had thrown out the idea herself, he probably would have whined a bit and then agreed. But for it to be his idea―he had to be up to something.
    “What do you mean?” she asked tentatively.
    “Just what I said. I made reservations for us to spend a couple of days up north at a B&B.” Her mouth opened to speak, but before she could say anything he cut her off. “I heard about this place on the radio, and like I said, I thought it would be fun.”
    “Wh-, when?” she stammered.
    “After Columbus Day.”
    “Why?”
    “Leaf peep, I don’t know. It just strikes me as a fun thing to do.”
    Max stopped and stared at him again. “A fun thing to do?” she thought to herself. She didn’t know what to say or how to react. This was not her Jack speaking.
    Before she could find words, the register came to life, spitting out another drink