Paige made the hour commute from the Nashville Clinic to her parents’ home every few weeks, yet it didn’t surprise her a bit that the first thing she noticed when she pulled into the driveway was the white paper banner taped to her parents’ white garage door. WELCOME HOME PAIGE.
Ever since her mother had taken an adult ed computer class, she looked for excuses to demonstrate her prowess at the printer. This particular banner consisted of four sheets of paper taped together, with hot pink letters making up the words and a picture of a banana split printed faintly in the background. A masterpiece of clip art if ever her mother had created one.
In the front bay window she saw her old lab, Dusty, push himself up on his three good legs to bark. Her father came to peek, disappeared, then flung open the front door. “There’s my girl.” He came down the porch steps as fast as his arthritis would let him. “I am so glad to see you.” He put his arms around her and didn’t let go. There was a hint of desperation in that hug.
“Dad, are you all right?”
“It’s going to be okay, Paige, it’s going to be okay. We’re gonna get through this just fine.”
Get through this? When her mother’s cancer relapsed three months ago, it had been hard on all of them. But something else was going on here, something fresher. Something worse. “What are we going to get through?” She pulled back so that she could look at her father’s face.
He squinted his eyes against the March sun. “Your mother . . . she did call you, right?” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at Paige. “I was sure she called you.”
“What was she supposed to call me about?” Fingers of dread began to wrap around Paige’s heart. When she looked into her father’s eyes and saw the absolute despair in them, the fingers began to squeeze. Hard. This could only mean one thing.
“The treatment’s not working this time. Doctor says we’re almost out of options, but he’s looking into some clinical trials. He said he’d call us on Monday and let us know if he could find anything.”
She wanted so much just to collapse against her car. Anything that could support her. But she knew what that’d do to her father. “Well, all right then. That’s what we’re aiming for.” She squared her shoulders. “Where is she?”
“Out back, sitting on her bench.”
Paige nodded. “I’ll go talk to her.” She reached down to pet Dusty. “Come on, boy.”
He hobbled alongside her around the back of the house and across the weathered patio. The surface was faded and worn from years of family picnics, roller skating, and late evening gab sessions. How could the same woman whose joy of life could wear out concrete be losing the fight to keep that life?
Her mother was seated on the bench at the corner of the property, in the dull shade of her favorite oaks. Her eyes were closed, her hands clasped in her lap. Was she resting or praying? Dusty went to lie at her feet, while Paige sat beside her. “Hi, Mom.”
Her mother’s eyes flew open. “Oh, sweetie, you’re home.” She threw her arms around Paige and squeezed tight. The cherry-almond scent of her Jergens lotion brought back a wave of happy memories so strong that Paige had to swallow back the tears.
“I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
“Really?”
“Let me guess, your father called you with the news and you got all upset and left work early. That’s why I wasn’t planning to tell you until later.” She cut a hard look at her husband, who was leaning against the nearest oak.
He folded his arms across his chest. “I did no such thing. I said I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. I thought you were—”
“Mom, he didn’t call. It’s seven o’clock, I’ve been off work for almost two hours.”
“Oh dear, the time must have gotten away from me.”
A cold wind blew, causing the tree limbs above them to bend with the force. The sound of a crow’s caw came from nearby as it searched for something to eat in the bleak landscape of late winter.
Paige reached over and held her mother’s hand. “I’m just glad I’m here now.”
Her mother looked into the tree above them. “Do you remember when we used to have a swing on that limb?”
“Yes, Daddy spent hours getting it set up just right.”
“You and I would spend hours out here. I can still see your hair flying behind you—no wonder it was always so stringy when you were a kid. You would sing that song about the daring young man on the flying trapeze at the top of your lungs, swinging so high you’d sometimes get caught up in the branches. I’d sit right here on this bench, and knit, and read, and sing right along with you.”
The limb above had two smooth places, its bark stripped away by the ropes once tied there. If friction and pressure could wear down a giant tree, what chance did Paige and her family stand? “That was a long time ago.”
“Yes, it was. But it doesn’t seem like it’s been any time at all, it just moves too fast.” Her mother ran her hand down the length of Paige’s hair. “Who would have thought that stringy-haired kid would grow into such a beautiful young woman?” She covered Paige’s hand with her own and squeezed. “Oh, honey . . . we all knew this would happen.”
“Did we?” Paige whispered.
“Of course we did.” Her mother’s tone sounded as crisp and clear as if she were announcing a planned trip to the market. “That’s part of the fun of being ‘treatable not curable.’ ”
“I fully expect your doctor to call first thing Monday morning, having found the perfect clinical trial that will put you in remission and keep you in remission.”
Her mother looked at her father. “I bet you didn’t tell her that other part, right?”
“What other part?” Paige looked at her father.
He shrugged in response. “Doesn’t matter.”
“What other part, Mom?”
“A lot of clinical trials aren’t covered by insurance, since they are considered experimental. Your father and I don’t have extra money to be throwing around, looking for some miracle cure that doesn’t even exist.”
“I can help.”
Her father shook his head. Her mother wouldn’t hear of it. But Paige insisted and insisted that she’d do anything for them, and by the time dinner was ready they’d both agreed.
Now she’d just have to figure out a way to find the money they needed.