Dog Run Moon Read Online Free Page A

it’s light.”
    “You’ve had a big day,” Jeannette said. “You just don’t know you’re tired yet.”
    She came back out on the porch with a beer for him and a glass of wine for herself. She had the bottle of aloe too and she sat on his lap. She rubbed in the lotion, working it into the skin on his neck, his ear lobes, his cheekbones. Jeannette had small hands, strong fingers, blunt nails. Before she’d met her husband she’d been a massage therapist. She told Dale that when they got married her husband hadn’t
quite
demanded that she stop working. “He was always good at that, making demands seem like something less. I was a good massage therapist. And I enjoyed it. He said it was too sensual. He didn’t like me doing that with other men.”
    “Too sensual?” Dale said.
    “It wasn’t like I was giving happy endings. I’m thinking about getting back into it. It’s been ten years but I’ve still got my table and everything. I could use the money.”
    “I volunteer to be your practice dummy. Maybe you could reconsider that happy ending policy.”
    She laughed and swatted at him.
    The aloe was tingling on his cheeks. Jeannette had her head back on his shoulder. He could feel her heat through the thin material of her sundress. She was a small woman. Small breasts, small waist, delicate feet, good thick heavy dark hair. She had an aversion to undergarments that he found attractive. This year she’d lost her father to cancer, turned forty-three, and watched as her husband was led away in handcuffs.
    She sat on Dale’s lap, wriggling a little, as if she was just trying to get comfortable. She sighed. “What a great day,” she said. “That was the best day I can remember having in quite some time. The boys had fun. They really like you. They tell me that, I’m not just assuming.”
    “I always kind of wished I had younger brothers,” Dale said, realizing immediately that it was probably not the right thing. Jeannette gave a soft laugh and sipped her wine. “How old would your mother have been?” she said.
    “Much older than you.”
    “How much?”
    “It doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful.”
    “I guess I’m not quite a hag yet.”
    Dale had recently turned twenty-five. He hadn’t managed to finish college. He was almost done with his EMT certification but for the past few months he’d been living in his father’s basement. He considered meeting Jeannette to be the single best stroke of luck that had ever befallen him. Before Jeannette, he’d been dating a girl for almost a year. A bank teller. She called him every day for a week before she gave up.
    Occasionally, he thought about Jeannette’s husband, but only occasionally. The last thing she had told Dale about him was that he was in a halfway house in Billings. The boys wanted to see him but she hadn’t decided yet. She thought maybe it was too soon. For the most part she didn’t talk about him, and Dale didn’t ask.
    They sat on the porch in the slow solstice twilight. The lilacs had opened and the air was musky with them. Dale was rubbing the back of her neck with his thumb, listening to the sound of the creek, hearing in its dull murmur something like a gathering crowd, just beginning to voice its displeasure.
    —
    Dale ran in the mornings. It was a habit he’d picked up recently, part of some more general desire to straighten himself out. He’d tried meditating. That had never really worked. Running, though, was good. He laced up his shoes in the dark of his childhood bedroom, took the stairs two at a time, and did a five-mile loop. Across the tracks that bisected town, the gravel of the railway crunching under his shoes, down the hill to the river.
    His dad would have considered all of it—meditation, breathing exercises, even running—nothing but hippie bullshit. Dale would have agreed, not too long ago. But then he went on his first ride-along with the Park County EMT crew and he’d seen a girl, a few years younger than