Jake woke, sat up in bed. What’s that noise? Grunting? He looked over at the digital clock on his nightstand. Thirty minutes after midnight. He heard it again. More grunting. Piper? Jake got out of bed and moved to the bedroom window, which was cracked open. Piper was in the backyard, standing on the twenty-foot inflatable tumble track wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and her acro athletic shoes. Why was she out there right now? He watched as she bent down and then exploded upward, throwing her hands back, jumping off the ground, spinning backward, hands now tucked on her knees. She got three-quarters of the way around with her back tuck but couldn’t stick the landing. She fell forward onto her knees and hands. “Dang it!” she yelled, clearly agitated.
Jake watched her for a couple of minutes. She tried again. Failed again. A third time. Another fall. Piper used to be able to easily nail her back tuck. But she had not been able to get it back yet with the loss of strength in her leg. Physical therapy was helping, but it had been slow. He knew his daughter was so frustrated. This was her joy. And it had been stolen from her this past year.
Grabbing a pair of jeans, Jake pulled them on and then walked out onto the back porch of his father’s house. He could hear the crickets and see the stars in the sky. The stars had been one of the benefits of moving out of the city and to a country town. Although Piper had not seemed to be that impressed with them.
Piper went for it again. Another fall. This time she yelled, “I hate this!”
Jake moved down the steps and into the grass. Piper saw him for the first time.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.
It was humid, and she was sweating profusely.
“No, it’s fine,” he said. “Wasn’t sleeping anyway. You’re getting close.”
“Liar,” she said, frowning.
“Probably doesn’t feel that way, but I can see it. Want a spot?”
“I guess.” She sighed. “I may never get around without it.”
Jakes stepped onto the tumble track and got on one knee. He put one hand at the small of her back. She didn’t need much. Just a little support. He’d done this a thousand times over the years. He still remembered the first time she got her back handspring. She was eight. She ran around the backyard for five minutes in celebration.
“Just barely touch me,” Piper said.
“I know. You got this.”
With him spotting, Piper exploded upward, easily got around, and landed on her feet.
“See?” he said. “I barely did anything.”
“Then why can’t I get it on my own?”
“You will. But sometimes it helps to have Dad here.”
“Well, you won’t always be here for me.”
“Yes, I will,” he quickly responded.
He was surprised by how forcefully it came out. She looked back at him. They both seemed to be aware that he was talking about more than just spotting her.
“I will, Piper,” he repeated. “Always. Let’s go again.”
Piper got into position. Jake placed his hand at her back. But he pulled it away at the last minute. She hit her back tuck completely on her own.
“I didn’t touch you,” Jake said, grinning.
She seemed shocked. “For real?”
“It was all you, baby. Don’t think about it. Just do it again.”
She got into position, jumped, spun, and nailed it again. This time she turned back with a huge smile on her face.
“Again,” Jake said.
She did it again. Then a fourth time. And a fifth time. They were both beaming. Then she nearly jumped into his arms with more joy than he’d seen from her since before the accident. This was who they used to be. This was who he hoped they would be again.
“Always,” Jake whispered.
Jake pushed that memory aside as he approached the garden area. It was Sunday, and the weather was decent—chilly but not unbearable—so the children’s play spaces were busy with littles running and climbing all over while parents mostly sat on benches nearby. Jake hadn’t given Brent any specifics on exactly where to meet here. That was intentional. Jake wanted to be able to survey the landscape without him being spotted first. Not that Brent should recognize him. Jake wore a USA baseball cap covering his hair and broke out a pair of sunglasses for the first time. He’d also put on a black hoodie with the Texas Tech logo on the front that he’d taken from the coaches’ locker room. He wanted to keep mixing up his looks as much as possible in case the police or FBI had information about a particular outfit. He hadn’t seen anything mentioning facial hair or wardrobes while reading the online news.