Without her hours at the pharmacy to fill her days, time slowed nearly to a stop. Days passed, each spent trying to correct the horrible mess that had become her life, but Paige had never felt more cut off from the world. By the end of week two, she barely went outside except to take Dusty for a walk. And that’s what waited for her today, too. Printing out résumés and a walk.
Paige waited for the printer to finish its task. The cream-colored paper looked so professional sitting there in the tray, the typing fastidious, the credentials impeccable, until you looked deeper. No matter how nice the surface of this résumé appeared, the truth behind it was too ugly for any future employer to consider. With two weeks of silence and rejections, she’d more than proven that. She tossed the papers across the room and watched them spiral through the air before coming to rest on the tan carpet.
Being a pharmacist was apparently no longer an option. All those years of pharmacy school, of studying to all hours and cramming for board exams, had been rendered meaningless. Nothing remained except the student loans she still needed to repay.
She went into the garage and removed the blue mesh leash from its usual hook. “Dusty, here boy.” Dusty hobbled over, his tail wagging.
Maybe she could convince him to walk the half mile down to the pond today. He usually made it only to the wooded lot behind their house, but Paige felt trapped, claustrophobic. She pulled the leash in the direction of the road, but Dusty tugged back in the direction of his favorite trees. She tugged a little harder. “Come on, we need a little adventure, some excitement.”
Dusty stopped walking and lay down. He looked up at her, big brown eyes pleading his case.
Paige knelt before him. “Don’t you want to do something different today?”
Dusty licked her hand and put his head on the ground.
“Okay, okay. I give. To the trees we go.” She started walking toward the trees and he immediately pushed up to his feet and ran ahead of her, tugging at the leash. She stopped him. “Sit.” She removed the leash from his collar. “I guess we don’t need this if we’re not leaving the yard, huh?”
Once free, Dusty hobbled into the trees and disappeared into his favorite spot, the sound of crunching twigs following in his wake. Life was so simple when you were a dog. Even a disabled dog. You lived your life with the people who loved you, you did what you were supposed to do, and they did what they were supposed to do, and everyone was happy. Simple. Uncomplicated. So unlike the life of a human.
Paige sat on the bench and longed to have her mother beside her. And healthy. She needed to talk to someone, to share the burden of all these doubts. But her mother needed her strength now. Problem was, Paige didn’t possess any.
Maybe she’d drop by and see Ora again. Yeah, that’s what she’d do. After she was done walking Dusty, she’d drive over.
The engine roar of a truck sounded close by on the street— they must be doing work at the neighbor’s house again. But then came the slam of a vehicle door, followed by the doorbell. Dusty started barking.
She called for Dusty to come inside, and as she moved through the house her heart began to hammer wildly.
The truck she’d heard—it was Lee Richardson, she knew it was Lee Richardson. Maybe Dawn had persuaded Clarissa to tell the truth; maybe her conscience had gotten the better of her. Whatever the reason, she was about to open the door to hope.
She pulled the door open, a smile already forming. “Hello—” The words died on her lips when she saw the plumber Sam Jackson standing on the front porch. “What are you doing here?”
“Came by to pick up the truck. Your father said you had the keys and a spare.”
“Pick up the truck?”
“Yeah, you know. Drive it home. Your father and I made a deal last night. Didn’t he tell you I was coming?”
Paige stared at him, too stunned to think of a response. Finally she said, “It’ll take me a minute to round up the keys, why don’t you go on out there. I’ll meet you outside in a minute.”
He tipped his dirty baseball cap at her. “Alrighty.”
Paige closed the door and ran to her cell to call her father, who answered on the second ring.
“Dad, are you selling to Sam Jackson?”
“He’s there, I guess? I was going to call you about that this afternoon, and things got a little hectic around here. Sorry I forgot to warn you. Do you know where the keys are, hanging inside the cabinet in the garage?”
“Yes, I know where the keys are hidden, but why are you selling to him?”
“Honey, you know we’re tight on money. We were just barely squeaking by as it was, and it just adds to your pressure if you’ve
“But what about after that? How will you go back to work if you don’t have a truck and your tools anymore?”
“Sweetie, we don’t have a lot of other choices at this point.”
Paige felt the tears flow down her cheeks as she walked out to the garage and opened the cabinet that held his keys. It was neat and tidy, just like everything he owned. To turn these keys over to the unkempt man who stood in the driveway—how could she do it?
She put her hand on the keys. She could feel the cold of the metal against her fingertips, smell the hint of oil and glue that came from inside the cupboards. Her father’s cupboards, where her father’s keys should belong.
Before she walked out the door, she wiped hard at her eyes. No way would she let Sam Jackson see her crying. No way would she give him any hint of the defeat that her father was suffering in this transaction.
She pushed open the door, held her chin high, and concentrated on keeping her shoulders back, her expression pleasant. “Here you are, Mr. Jackson. I hope things work out well for you.”
He grinned and touched the dirty ball cap again. “Much obliged.” He nodded toward his dirty truck parked on the street in front of the house. “I’ll have my girlfriend drive me by later on tonight and get my other truck.”
Paige nodded. “Fine.”
He opened the door to her father’s truck, sat in the driver’s seat, and turned the key. He closed the door, rolled down the window, and said, “Tell your father it was a pleasure doing business with him.”
“I’ll tell him.” Not likely. This was one episode of her life Paige never planned to think about or mention ever again.
Her father’s truck disappeared down the street, past the filthy truck of its new owner. Paige knew that it was more than a little symbolic of what had been happening in her life lately.
Paige rang the doorbell again, still no answer. It would figure that she would drive all the way over here when no one was home. Maybe she’s in the backyard doing a little gardening. Paige walked around the corner. “Ora?”
“You looking for Ora?” A man in a white T-shirt and plaid shorts was cleaning out the gutters of the house next door. He tossed some leaves into the trash can beneath his ladder but kept his eyes focused on Paige.
“Yes, do you know where she is?”
“Last I heard, she was at Crockett Hospital. They may have already taken her to Nashville by now, I don’t know.”
“Hospital?”
“Yeah, the ambulance was here not more than an hour ago.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t know for sure. Think it was a heart attack.”
Paige sank to the porch steps. “Was she . . . is she . . . okay?”
“Don’t know that okay is the word I’d use, but if you know Ora, you likely know she’s too stubborn to die.”
“Yes, she is. Thank you so much.” Paige raced back to her car and drove to Crockett Hospital. She parked in the closest spot, then ran toward the building.
The automatic doors of the emergency room swished open. The coolness of the air-conditioned inside collided with the sticky heat from outside in a battle of wills that could only be won by moving forward or turning back. Paige walked to the counter.
“Ora Vaerge. Is she here?”
The receptionist looked up, her face blank. “Who?”
“They just brought her here in the ambulance. This afternoon.”
“Oh, the heart attack lady. Yeah, they’re trying to get her stabilized. They’ve called for the helicopter to take her up to Nashville.”
“Can I see her?”
“You family?”
“Not blood family.”
“That’s all we look at here, hon. Blood. Nothing else matters.”
“It matters to me. Please, she doesn’t have anyone else in this area. I’ve got to see her.”
The thwack, thwack of helicopter blades began to resonate through the hospital. The receptionist looked at her. “There’s your friend’s ride now.”
Paige hurried out the door and watched from the sidewalk as a team rushed a stretcher into the waiting chopper. The group in their blue scrubs and lab coats blocked her from getting more than a glimpse of white sheet and black safety straps. In a matter of seconds, the helicopter was airborne and her friend was gone. Maybe forever.
Paige could contain it no longer and started to weep. Silent, unstoppable tears. Please don’t leave me, Ora. Please don’t leave me.
“You all right, miss?”
Paige looked through her tears to see an older man in a tan suit. “Do you need me to get someone out here to help you?”
Paige shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
“That’s funny, you don’t look so fine.” The man carried a small book in his left hand but extended the right one for Paige to shake. “I’m Joel Bennett.”
Paige wiped the tears off her hands before she shook. “I’ve heard your name somewhere.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’m the pastor of the church downtown. I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Paige. Paige Woodward.”
“Nice to meet you, Paige. Now, tell me, what can I do to help you?”
“Nothing. I’m fine, really. It’s only that they just flew a friend of mine to Nashville. Heart attack.”
“Well, if they bothered to put her on the helicopter, that means she’s still alive and fighting. That’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?”
Paige nodded. “I suppose so.” She hated to cry in front of people. She looked toward the parking lot. “Well, I better get going.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help you?”
There’s nothing anyone can do. “No, I’ll be all right.”
“Okay, then, if you’re sure. I’ll be sure to say a prayer for that friend of yours. See you later, Paige Woodward.” He smiled and walked away.
Paige put one foot in front of the other by sheer willpower. She got in her car, determined to drive to Nashville and see her friend. “Ora, please don’t die.”
Joel Bennett was right. At least Ora was still alive. Still fighting.