Page 55 of Love In Translation

He thrived on feeling out of his comfort zone. Most people didn’t.

Most people didn’t want to screw up, and everybody feared something...

Rheo sipped her water, and looked at majestic Mount Hood, pushing its way into the blue sky. She couldn’t imagine climbing it, but Fletch conquered mountains double, nearly triple its height. He’d summited Everest, despite experiencing the avalanche the year before. The avalanche was the closest he had come to dying, and she absolutely understood his reluctance to go back to Nepal. Yet he’d done it. He faced his fear, looked it in the eye, and returned the following summer.

He’d kicked fear’s ass.

Rheo tossed the chicken, still thinking. She wished she could be more like him, be someone who looked fear in the eye and stared it down.

He acknowledged it, but didn’t let it affect his decisions. If he did, he would not have accomplished half the things he had, nor seen so many wild places. Did he find fear easier to handle because he’d been so sick as a teenager? Was the possibility of going back to physical weakness a far scarier prospect than falling off a mountain or walking into an impenetrable jungle with all its hidden dangers? To someone who took big bites out of life like Fletch did, she imagined it would be.

She’d looked up the mud race online and rolled her eyes at the “suitable for seniors and children under the age of twelve” description. Fletch believed completing the race would give her confidence, but Rheo didn’t see how trying would make her look anything but stupid. She understood her strengths, and physical exercise wasn’t one of them. She was uncoordinated and graceless, and the last time she ran, she’d prayed for a defibrillator and oxygen tank.

Plus, if she won—not a possibility—it would be winning against old people and kids. Not a glorious achievement. If she finished near the back—highly possible—she would feel even worse. There was no upside to Fletch’s suggestion...

She didn’t want anything to do with the race. Rheo blew air into her cheeks. Compared to his extreme exploits, taking part in a mud race seemed so trivial. Yet, she categorically didn’t want to. She didn’t want to look foolish, to be forced to give up, to feel out of her depth.

She didn’t want to feel out of control. She hated feeling like that. And she did not like to fail.

Failure, lack of control, and looking bad were some reasons why she’d yet to tell Paddy where she was and what happened. She feared Paddy’s disappointment, just like Fletch had feared going back to Base Camp.

Shame washed over her. How could she compare her fear of disappointing Paddy to Fletch’s avalanche? Her grandmother was a five-foot-two flesh-and-blood person, albeit one with a domineering streak. She wasn’t a treacherous ice floe, a dangerous mountain, or a rock fall. Rheo had reached a new depth of ridiculousness.

And why was she waiting? There wouldn’t ever be a good time to tell Paddy, and the situation would deteriorate the longer she left it. She needed to bite the bullet and get it done...

But before she told Paddy, she needed to tell her folks.

Carrie hadn’t thought it such a big deal, and there was a fair chance her parents would have an equally laid-back attitude. As long as they didn’t make any snide comments about karma, she’d be okay. Though, to be honest, it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve to be mocked a little. She’d been disgustingly arrogant and judgmental in the past. She wouldn’t blame them if they couldn’t resist a few jibes.

Rheo tossed the chicken again, drained a can of beans, and shucked the corn. When there was nothing left to do, she video-called her mom, hoping they were climbing a mountain or digging a well and couldn’t answer. But luck wasn’t on her side and her mom’s face appeared on her phone. Rheo winced at her parched skin and deepening wrinkles. She routinely bought her mom expensive moisturizers, but she was pretty sure her mom never used them.

“Rheo, how lovely to see your beautiful face,” her mom told her, placing her hand on her heart. “You’re looking casual, darling. Are you having a day off?”

“Is Dad around, Mom?” Rheo asked.

Her mom yelled for her father, and Rheo winced, placing her free hand over her ear. Her dad popped his head around the van door, and when he saw her on the screen, his face split into a broad smile. Her father drove her nuts, but he loved her. He might like and understand Carrie better, but hedidlove Rheo.

And today, that was enough.

After catching up for a few minutes, Rheo turned her phone around so they could see her location. “I’m staying here, at the Pink House. I’ve been here for four—no, nearly five months.”

They exchanged looks and neither seemed too surprised. “We thought something was wrong,” Gail stated, sounding subdued. “We suspected you might’ve quit your job, but we didn’t think you’d be in Gilmartin.”

“Why did you think I lost my job?” she demanded.

“We saw the viral video of the UN hot-mic incident,” her dad explained. “We immediately recognized your voice.”

Oh crap. Her face flamed with humiliation. “You recognizedmyvoice? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Her father’s expression turned sheepish. “At the time, we hadn’t heard from you in a while. You weren’t answering our calls. We went online to see what was happening at the UN, wanting, I guess, to connect with you. It popped up then. We assumed you’d tell us about it when you were ready.”

The damn internet. Rheo rubbed her temple. “I’m sorry. I should’ve returned your calls.”

“We presumed your grandmother was still complaining about that stupid will business and you took her side.”

“You shouldn’t have—” No, she wasn’t going there; it wasn’t her fight. It was Paddy and their issue. She no longer needed to be part of it. She stopped talking and gripped the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t think you’d seen the viral video,” she quietly said.

“Well, we did. And we thoroughly agreed with what you said!” Gail announced. “We are so proud of you for standing up for what you believe in!”

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