Page 73 of Take Me Away, Cowboy

Now that choice had been taken from her.

Worst of all, it was her stupid fault. What was it with her that she couldn’t just be with a man and let her guard down? Sure, Paulo had effed her trust in men royally, but if she was being completely honest, she’d been emotionally distant for a long time before that. She’d never had the assuredness her mother did when she’d met Paige’s father, not until she’d met Owen.

But he wasn’t part of her plan. She was supposed to travel, see the world, taste fresh conch from the sea, climb to the top of coastal peaks, watch the whales roll in, undulating and turning in the water as weightless as air. She was supposed to meet another doctor who wanted the same things as her.

If life was a fairy tale. Which it wasn’t, and why did she want that anyway? What was so great about someone who didn’t challenge her, who went where she went, who did what she did? What would they ever have to talk about? The world would be wide, but hers would be narrow, wouldn’t it?

Too late as usual. She’d pissed Owen off beyond repair. Still, she fished her phone back out and redialed his number. It went straight to voicemail.Dammit.She tried again, this time texting him.

Call me, please. It was a cheap ploy. I’m so sorry, Owen. I’m just exhausted, scared for my dad. Call me. In case you didn’t get that first part.

Her heart ached for companionship, for having someone who would be there when drinks were put down to hold babies, hands, each other.

Her chest constricted, and she found it hard to breathe all of a sudden. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She pounded her chest, forcing its rhythm back to normal, but it wouldn’t budge. It beat wild, out of control, and it took her all her will to stand upright.

Breathe. Three, two, one, it’s almost done.She repeated the phrase she used with her patients twice more while she sucked air, tried to give her body back oxygen. It wouldn’t listen.

Finally, scared it wouldn’t pass, she went through the doors that automatically swung open to a place she never wanted to see again out of a work context.

Her mom met her at the door.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” When Paige didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, her mom guided her to the threadbare couches in the waiting room. It was empty except for a man in clothes that looked as well-worn as the furniture he slept on, curled up in a ball. Paige had seen him before in her treatment room. His wife was in the hospital for chemo, breast cancer. He’d told Paige he’d never leave his wife alone there, no matter how long it took. Watching him now, surely not comfortable, but content enough, Paige’s breathing slowed.

In an instant her heart rate followed, and Paige could breathe again.

“What was that?” her mom asked, rubbing Paige’s back in concentric circles like she used to do when Paige was in high school. She and her mom would kick the boys out and have a popcorn and movie night, Paige would crash halfway through each movie, and wake to her mom running her fingers through her hair or rubbing her shoulders. It was one of her favorite memories of growing up. Why had she just thought of it now, after all this time? Her mom had been there from the start, she’d just been too selfish to see that until now.

“A panic attack, I think. I only know them from their symptoms; I’ve never had one before. Jesus. That was scary.”

“You’re okay, though? I don’t think I could have the three of you in here tonight. It might put me in a bed of my own.”

“Brad’s admitted?”

“It was out of my hands. The nurses insisted on it after he emptied his stomach for the third time in their entranceway.”

“That guy. I swear, sometimes I think he’s the smartest man I know besides Dad and then he goes and does something like this to make me rethink my standards.”

Marge sighed, kept tracing her hands along Paige’s back.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Brad stole the tractor from the barn and screwed up the door on his way out so horribly your father threatened to make him rebuild the whole thing that summer?”

Paige laughed.

“You certainly did not, or I’m pretty sure I’d be lording it over that little goody-goody every chance I got.”

“Yes, that’s true, and probably why I didn’t say anything, even after you two were adults. The point is, he was far from perfect. Very far. You both were, but in your own ways. It wasn’t until you moved out and started to see for yourselves the way the world works that you finally started becoming who you are now.”

“Still imperfect,” Paige teased.

“Well, that’ll be the case, I hope, for as long as you’re alive, hun.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Paige said, looking up at her mom with pressed lips and a half-smile.

“No, I mean it. I want you to stay imperfect because that’s what makes life fun. That’s when the really interesting stuff comes up, when you’re vulnerable and willing to let it.”

“Sometimes when you’re not willing, it still shows up and you show it the front door. Slam it in his face, actually. Yeah, real interesting.” Paige’s hands shot to her face, covering it so she could let out a scream, muted beneath the heels of her palms pressed to her mouth. “It’s just so damn frustrating.”

“Oh, Paige, if there’s anything I’ve learned about love, it’s that it’s imperfect, too. It lets us be ourselves—our crazy, imperfect, flawed selves, so that love can fill in the cracks we come with. Kinda cool, actually. I think, if you give it some time, and maybe some of that key lime pie you’re famous for, I’d be willing to bet he hasn’t walked too far from your front door.”

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