Paige Rewritten

by Erynn Mangum

  If only those things were a bigger part of my job.

  Peggy is looking at me, letting me think. She’s a good counselor.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  She just studies me for what feels like six weeks but is probably more like a whole minute, silent, eyes thoughtful. “I think you do,” she says slowly. “But let’s move on. Tell me about Luke.”

  “Luke.” I don’t mean for his name to come out in a growl, but it does.

  Peggy grins. “That might be enough of an answer right there.”

  I rake my hands through my hair. “He’s just so … so … so annoying.” I shake my head. “He’s been coming by the last two Saturday mornings, bringing me coffee and telling me that he wants me back. I’ve told him it’s not going to work, but then he just tells me to pray about it.”

  “So have you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t really need to. Luke seems like he’s changed a lot and I’m happy for him. But I’m not interested anymore.” I mean, I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t the occasional spark between us, but Luke is just a very attractive man. He’s like a taller, older, more broad-shouldered Zac Efron.

  I don’t care who you are or what your current romantic settings are in, that’s hard not to notice.

  Especially when all that is combined with a good deal of charm and it’s all focused right on you.

  I sigh.

  “And on to Tyler,” Peggy says, scribbling in her book. “What about him?”

  “I like him. A lot. He’s very sweet.”

  “Sweet,” Peggy echoes. “Tell me what you mean by that.”

  “He just …” I shrug. “He’s just nice to me. We have a good time together.”

  She nods slowly. “But Luke isn’t nice to you?”

  “Have you met Luke? He’s like the most charming person you’ve ever talked to.”

  She shakes her head. “Never met either of them.”

  “Well, I’ll make it really easy for you when you do meet them. Luke is the good-looking, annoying one. Tyler is the sweet, attractive one.”

  “There’s that word again.” Peggy points her pen at me. “I’ve never heard it used so often in a conversation that doesn’t involve a golden retriever.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The word sweet. You’ve used it like four times now in reference to Tyler.” She smiles, though, so I guess it’s okay. She walks around her desk and sits in the chair beside mine, then reaches for my hands. “Paige, I’ve been married for twenty-three years. So I like to think I know a little about this kind of stuff. You seem happy with Tyler, but I don’t want to see you become complacent with him. Does that make sense?”

  Not really, but I nod like it does. Peggy has clients coming in here in five minutes.

  “As far as Preslee goes, I’m glad you got things sorted out with her. And give Layla time. Things will go back to normal as soon as she’s married and settled in.”

  Married.

  It sounds old.

  I nod and stand. “Thanks for talking with me, Peggy.”

  “I’m praying for you, sweet girl. God has big things for you, if you’ll let Him lead.”

  I nod again and walk back to my desk. Peggy’s first clients are already in the waiting room and I send them on back.

  “If you’ll let Him lead.”

  What does that even mean?

  Five thirty and I am standing outside the church, looking up at the white crosses that are positioned on the steeple. They look pretty, which is just weird to me when you consider what they are supposed to be depicting.

  But maybe it doesn’t draw a lot of people to church to see a real, rough cross hanging from a building.

  I walk inside, still totally clueless about what I’m going to tell Rick. I could barely concentrate on any of the phone calls I returned today because I was so consumed by this conversation.

  And by thinking about Tyler.

  And complacency.

  I don’t even know what complacent means, really.

  Rick is sitting at his desk reading from the biggest book I have ever seen in my whole life. “Hey, Paige.” He looks up when I knock briefly on the doorjamb. “Come on in.”

  “Hey.” I walk into his trashed office and push papers, books, Frisbees, and what looks like a to-go container from Olive Garden over so I can sit on the couch. I wrinkle my nose at the container and look at Rick. “Seriously?”

  “It’s empty. I need to clean.”

  “You think?”

  He raises his hands. “Hey, I’m a very busy guy. With no help. Which brings us to the question of why you are here.” He folds his hands on the huge book and looks at me.

  I look at him, look at his disaster of an office, look at the book he’s studying, and look at my hands.

  “Still undecided?” Rick asks after a long minute of me furiously praying.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “No what? No to the job?”

  “No, I’ve decided.” I just have to make sure I know what I’m doing.

  He just looks at me, waiting.

  I take a deep breath and then nod. “I want the job, Rick.”

  His face splits into a grin so fast, I think he might have strained his neck. “That is the best news I’ve heard all day!” He is ecstatic. He comes around the desk and gives me a big hug. “This is going to be great, Paige. Natalie will be thrilled.”

  I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, but for some reason, this seems right. I think it’s always seemed right, I just didn’t want to admit it.

  I smile back at him.

  Change is in the air. I can’t tell if it’s the change I’m smelling or the remnants of whatever was in that Olive Garden container. For hopeful purposes, I’m hoping it’s the container because if the change is smelling this bad, I think I need to recant my earlier declaration.

  “First things first,” I tell him. “If I’m expected to share this office with you, you are going to have to clean.”

  “For you, Paige, I might even do that.”

  Chapter

  21

  It’s nine o’clock on Saturday morning. I’m showered, fully dressed, fully made up, and my hair is even curled into a beachy summer look I’m going to try for this season.

  I’m sitting on the couch, arms crossed over my chest, staring at my front door.

  Any minute now. I can feel it.

  Sure enough, two minutes later I hear someone’s footsteps on the metal staircase and a second later, soft knocking on my door.

  I march over to the door and yank it open, preparing to give Luke the verbal thrashing of the century that will most likely start with, “Leave me alone.”

  Tyler stands there, hands in the pockets of his jeans, blond hair curling crazily over his head, and a huge grin covering his face. “Oh good! You got my text.”

  I just gape at him. “Your text?”

  “Yeah.” He looks at me for a second and then shakes his head at my blank expression, laughing. “And maybe you didn’t. Next week is my mom’s birthday. I was asking if you wanted to join me for breakfast out and then birthday shopping.”

  The words are barely out of his mouth before I’m nodding. “I’ll get my shoes,” I say, leaving him on the porch.

  I slide into a pair of flip-flops, grab my purse and my sunglasses, and follow Tyler down the steps to the parking lot.

  He stops me right before we get to his truck, reaches for my right hand, slips his left hand under my hair, leans down, and kisses my cheek.

  I suddenly am having a lot of trouble getting a full breath.

  “I’m glad you’re coming,” he says, his blue eyes sweet and warm. His fingers are flicking lightly through my hair and a colony of roly-polies have apparently decided to rent out space in my stomach and my knees. “I hate birthday shopping by myself.”

  He opens the passenger door for me, and it’s not until he’s walking around to get into the driver’s seat that I can finally
inhale enough to get some oxygen back into my brain.

  Tyler climbs into his seat and by the time he puts the keys in the ignition I’m back to a fully functioning human being.

  “So, better late than never, huh?” I ask him, pleased with myself that my voice even sounds pretty normal.

  “What?”

  “Your mom’s birthday is next week?”

  “Yep.”

  “And we’re just now shopping this morning?”

  He looks at me. “This is early, Paige. Half the time I shop on my way to the post office.”

  “I’m speechless.”

  “Priority shipping, babe.”

  “Really. Speechless.”

  “Because of how impressive of a son I am, huh?” He grins at me. “Now. What do you think we should get my mom?”

  “Tyler, I’ve never met your mother.”

  “But you are a woman. Women know gifts for women.” He grips the steering wheel. “Or at least tell me what store to drive to.”

  I just laugh.

  We end up at this nice outdoor mall about an hour later after stuffing ourselves with French toast at a cute little breakfast place.

  I do not think I ever want to eat again.

  The mall is just opening, crowds are low, the temperature hasn’t gotten so high that we’re swearing off the outside forever, and it’s actually nice wandering around.

  “Okay,” Tyler says. “Mom likes roosters.”

  “Like live ones?” I’m now worried about the upbringing Tyler has received. I do not mix with barn animals well. One of my friends raised rabbits and that was about as wild as I was willing to be around.

  I’ve told Layla several times that if I’m ever in a Tom Hanks–style accident and somehow get lost on some island and have to fend for myself, she might as well just go ahead and start helping my mother plan my funeral because there is no way I’m making it back alive.

  God knew what He was doing when He allowed me to be born into air-conditioning. And flushable toilets.

  “No.” Tyler grins over at me. “Like ceramic ones. She’s got a couple of roostery things in her kitchen.”

  “I don’t think that’s a word.”

  “This from the girl who told me that her eggs were too scrambley today?”

  “They were. You have to respect the egg.” I sigh, worried about what stores we might have to look in to find something rooster oriented. “What else does she like?”

  He looks thoughtfully at one of the window displays we are passing. “She likes Christmas stuff.”

  “Tyler, it’s May.”

  “I know.”

  “What about like earrings or home accessories or bath stuff or gift cards?” I throw that last one in there in the hopes that Tyler will say, “Yes, gift card. Let us purchase one immediately.” He’s going to be shipping this gift to Missouri, where his mom and stepdad live. A gift card would be the optimal thing to ship.

  It doesn’t work. He just purses his lips and looks at me. “I think she wears earrings,” he says very slowly.

  I rub my forehead, preparing for a very long Saturday.

  “This is fun, huh?” he says, one side of his mouth quirking up.

  “So much.”

  “Bet you wish I had like eleven moms so we could do this more often.”

  I drop my chin in a fake gape. “Now you can read thoughts too?”

  He laughs.

  We are wandering through our fifteenth store around two o’clock in the afternoon when I remember I haven’t informed him of my news.

  I haven’t informed anyone of my news.

  “So, I’m quitting the adoption agency.” Just saying the words out loud makes a nerve under my right eye start shaking.

  I am not a quitter.

  Tyler’s head jerks up. “What?”

  “Retiring. I’m retiring from the agency,” I rephrase.

  He grins, tucking his fingers in his pockets. “You took the job, didn’t you? I knew you would.”

  “How did you know I would? I didn’t even know I would until 5:37 last night.”

  He shrugs. “I know you, Paige.” He holds up a digital picture frame that is all shabby chic. Preslee would love it. “This looks like my mom.”

  I nod my approval. “Done.”

  I think about his comment as he goes to the back to pay for the frame. “I know you, Paige.”

  It hits me then that he does know me. I haven’t known Tyler long, but in the few months since I met him, he’s become a very good friend.

  I watch him walk back with his bag and he holds it up like Rafiki presenting Simba to the animal kingdom.

  What a weirdo. I just laugh.

  “Okay, now that we have a success on our hands,” Tyler lowers the bag and reaches again for my hand, “I want to show you something.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “You know what I like the most about us, Paige? The trust. There is just this overwhelming sense of trust between us.” He stops halfway outside the store suddenly, holding a hand up, looking around. “See? Did you feel that?” He waves his hand around. “Trust,” he whispers.

  I shake my head. “You are crazy.”

  “Eh. I’ve been called worse.”

  “Where is this something?”

  He grins at me all happy and cute, and I think I have a pretty good idea of what Tyler looked like as a six-year-old when he was making plans to break into the cookie jar.

  “You’ll see.”

  We walk back to the truck and Tyler sets his gift for his mom behind his seat. “She’s going to flip for that. I’m glad you talked me into coming to the mall.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He backs out of the parking space and starts driving toward I-75.

  “So about this new job,” he says, looking over at me at a red light.

  “Yes, the new job.” I still am having trouble believing it. When I took the job at the agency, I expected to be there until I left for maternity leave, or something else hugely life changing like that someday light years in the future.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  I look over at him and he squeezes my hand, eyes gentle. “I know it was probably a very hard decision, and I think you’re going to be great with the girls. Plus, you’ll actually get to do what you have been wanting to do.”

  I nod. “Yeah, there is that.”

  “Working with Rick should be interesting.”

  That was the understatement of the year. Rick sent me a text this morning. CLEANING OUT THE OFFICE PER YOUR REQUEST. FOUND ANT. ASSUME MORE TO COME. SURE YOU DON’T WANT YOUR DESK IN THE HALL? YOU PROBABLY WON’T BE SITTING THERE VERY OFTEN ANYWAY.

  I almost wrote him back and told him to forget the whole thing. Then I remembered that the church janitor has been a friend of mine ever since I spent six painstaking hours removing all the crayon that one of our particularly naughty two-year-olds had drawn with all over the nursery wall. I left a voice mail for him at the church this morning.

  God willing, two weeks from now I’ll walk into a bright and clean youth office at the church.

  Tyler turns south onto I-35 and I frown. “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We keep driving on the interstate, and Tyler tells me about his big project that he’s working on. “Basically, I spend the first five months of the year working on this one thing. At the end of June, my team and I have a big presentation for it. The president of our company is coming down from Indianapolis for it.” He winces over at me. “I could use some prayers. I’m already sweating at night about it.”

  “I’ll be praying. And have you looked into those cooling pillows? My mom says they work wonders.” My mom is also going through menopause, so who knows if they work for average cooling needs.

  I like my pillow and bed warm. I know I am in the minority.

  Tyler just chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Are we there yet?”

  “I knew you
were that kind of a kid.”

  I fidget in my seat. “No, seriously, how much longer?”

  “I don’t know. Ten minutes? Why?”

  “You really should have informed me we were driving to Mexico. I would have used the restroom at the mall.”

  He grins. “I’ll step on it.”

  Eleven minutes later, he pulls into a parking lot with millions of trees and bushes and flowers around us.

  “Hey, are we at the arboretum?” I look around.

  “Yep.” Tyler is all smiles.

  “I have always wanted to come here and never made it!”

  “I know. Layla told me.” He reaches behind his seat and pulls out a backpack I hadn’t noticed there. “Want to walk around for a bit? With a bathroom stop first, of course.”

  We walk to the entrance of a huge, grand building. Beautiful flowers are already everywhere. I have wanted to come here since I moved to Dallas. There were a couple of days I almost just drove down here, but it seemed depressing to walk around a huge flower garden by myself, and Layla isn’t into the outdoors.

  I keep telling her that I’m not either, but flowers are a different story for me. Not for Layla.

  Tyler pays the entrance fee, I run to the restroom, then we walk in. Two minutes through the door and I’m already stunned at the beauty. That and the sudden realization that I don’t know what any flower is beyond daisies, roses, and tulips.

  And sunflowers.

  And that’s it.

  “My sister loves this place.” Tyler slings the backpack over one shoulder and reaches for my hand, weaving his fingers between mine. “Every time Stephanie comes to visit me, we always have to come here.”

  Tyler’s parents got divorced when he was little. Neither of them are Christians, which just makes him and his sister all the closer since both of them are. I’ve never met Stephanie, but he talks so much about her, I feel like I know her. She married one of Tyler’s good friends and is going to have a baby in the summer.

  “She knows all the names of all the flowers.” He points to a particularly pretty patch of some yellow flower I could never identify.

  Well, that’s one way that I’ll never live up to his sister. Might as well inform him of this good and early while things still are in the not-quite-seriously-dating mode.