Free Over the Fence by Melanie Moreland Page B

early. She seemed too vulnerable and diminutive to be on her own. I had no idea why the sight of a stranger running in the early dimness made me feel uneasy, but unable to stop myself, I turned the car around and drove back in the direction she had turned.
    I drove slowly, stopping at the corner of the first street, scanning the road for her. I didn’t see her so I went back to my corner and viewed the quiet street. It was still deserted and the only light on was Kourtney’s. I turned the car and headed back out, relief flooding through me when I saw a light snap on in one of the houses on the first street. She must live there and had made it home safely. Obviously, I had missed her arriving home. I had no idea why this concerned me, so I drove on, unsure of my strange reaction. I didn’t understand why I was worried. I never worried about anyone else other than myself, and now in the short space of time I was worried about two women?
    I sighed as I merged onto the main road, my speed picking up as I left the subdivision behind. I had other problems to deal with besides an unknown woman who liked to run in the dark. No matter how appealing they were to me.

    When I was finally able to get back to my desk, I grabbed a coffee and sat down with a heavy sigh. Despite being swamped all morning, Kourtney had been on my mind. She kept creeping into my thoughts, no matter what task I was dealing with at the time. I needed to check on her, but I wasn’t sure how I would be received today. Regardless of what she had said last night I had upset her, and it bothered me. I liked it when I could make her happy.
    I turned my chair to the window and studied the sky outside. The heavy clouds filling the atmosphere matched my mood well. I grinned as an idea hit me. Turning back to my desk, I clicked on Yahoo chat and was pleased to see WhyteElephant’s light on.
    Gnat: Hey, Chefgirl—emergency—call 911.
    WhyteElephant: What seems to the problem?
    Gnat: It’s gonna rain.
    WhyteElephant: Emergency indeed. I’ll alert the media for you.
    I grinned at her wit.
    WhyteElephant: Should I ask why rain constitutes as an emergency?
    Gnat: If it’s raining, you can’t BBQ. If you can’t BBQ, I can’t eat. Hence emergency.
    WhyteElephant: Oh, how silly of me. I never thought of your stomach when I saw it was raining.
    Gnat: Hmmmph.
    WhyteElephant: Nathan—do you EVER go in your kitchen?
    Gnat: Of course. I’m not completely useless.
    WhyteElephant: Have you ever noticed the large square silver item there?
    Gnat: I know the name of the appliance you’re referring to.
    WhyteElephant: Oh, excellent. And surprised you know the word appliance.
    Gnat: Being rather sassy again, Missy. It’s called a refrigerator. It’s my friend. My hero actually.
    WhyteElephant: Your refrigerator is your HERO? Do tell.
    By now I was grinning widely. I could make her smile today.
    Gnat: It’s magic. I put warm beer in it and a few hours later it comes out cold.
    WhyteElephant: Oh. My.
    Gnat: And even better, it protects some of my most prized things.
    WhyteElephant: You keep imported beer in there, too?
    I chuckled. I loved her sense of humor.
    Gnat: No, smartass. The food you give me. It keeps it safe and fresh. My hero.
    WhyteElephant: Wow. That is a little frightening, but I was referring to the other large square appliance—the one that is waist high.
    Gnat: Sniffing at you haughtily—I know that, too. It’s called the stove. I am aware.
    WhyteElephant: Impressed again. But do you know what it does?
    Gnat: Yes!!! It also is multi-functional. It acts as extra counter space to lay out the pizza and wings on Football Sunday, and hides the empty containers and paper plates until garbage day. Duh.
    I sat back, smiling, waiting for her reply.
    WhyteElephant: OMG—I somehow never thought to use it for that. How silly of me. I’ve only ever used it for cooking INDOORS when it’s raining or snowing OUTSIDE. My bad.
    Gnat: Happy to have taught you something