Between the Pipes

Chapter 5

Cycling didn't usually make Sarah anxious, but today she had butterflies as she walked her bicycle to the edge of the parking lot. Mike leaned casually against his bicycle and smiled as if genuinely pleased to see her. The wind ruffled his hair and plastered his windbreaker against his chest, making his shoulders look broader and his abdomen flatter.

He wore shorts, and Sarah tried not to stare at the muscles of his thighs. "Have you been waiting long?" She pulled her hair into a low ponytail and strapped on her helmet.

"No, just got here." He straightened and hitched a backpack over his shoulders, shifting it to avoid his right side. "Would you rather head east or west?"

"West." Clarington was normally a safe community, but in August, a young woman, out jogging in the east end, had been sexually assaulted and murdered. Her body had been found in the bushes lining the path, and they hadn't yet made any arrests in the case. It had shocked the whole community, and the police had issued warnings about basic safety, especially on the more remote parts of the pathway. She was with Mike, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, so it was unlikely to be an issue, but she'd avoid the east end, just the same.

They cycled along the paved pathway running parallel to the Charlebois River. A breeze, warm for fall, stirred the leaves of the trees. The colours had changed early, and brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows reflected in the sunlight.

They passed a family of four with two young boys, and Sarah smiled at their excited voices when they recognized Mike.

"Sounds like part of your fan club," Sarah said, glancing over at him.

Mike smiled. "It's hard to hide."

"Do you get that a lot, people recognizing you?" She had been on the ice for less than a minute, and people were stopping and asking her about it. She couldn't imagine what it was like for him.

"Yeah. We're pretty lucky with the fan support. It really helps the team."

No mention of how hard it would be for him. "Do you mind it?"

Mike looked over at her, considering. "It's part of the whole deal." He shrugged. "It's easier sometimes than others. The Quakes, in general, take the support and the responsibility of being a role model pretty seriously."

She could relate to that. Much as she wasn't looking forward to the helmet hairdo when she took off her bicycle helmet at lunch, she couldn't imagine not wearing it. She smiled ruefully to herself. Oh well, maybe it would add to the whole dissuasion thing.

"How's the rib?" So far he hadn't complained and hadn't had any trouble keeping up.

"It's great. I'm sure it's just bruised. It feels one hundred percent better now."

She hoped so. It would make life a lot easier for both of them.

Close to noon, they stopped at a quiet spot, leaned their bikes against a tree, and sat down together on wide flat rocks at the edge of the river. Mike gingerly slipped off his backpack, rifled through it, and passed her an enormous sandwich.

"Thank you." She unwrapped it and bit into it. "This is delicious. Did you make this?"

He playfully nudged her shoulder. "You sound skeptical."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Fresh ciabatta, spicy chicken cooked to perfection, grilled eggplant, and smoked Gouda. Not your average PB and J."

"And since I'm not even sure what you listed, I better 'fess up." He laughed. "But actually, I do cook. I don't tend to go out a lot, and I get tired of eating take-out." He shrugged.