Paige Rewritten (13 page)

Wes is adorable and charming and Preslee is all smiles and flirtation. It's odd to see my sister like this. The last time I saw her, she was sullen and angry, ready with a biting response to anything anyone said.

This is like Preslee from elementary school. Carefree. Happy.

Mom and Dad spend the evening enraptured by everything Wes and Preslee say. They laugh, Mom cries at sad parts, and then they laugh some more. In light of their obvious joy at their youngest being home, I feel even worse.

At six o'clock, right as I'm about to say my good-byes, Wes stops laughing and looks over at me. “We are being so rude,” he says to Preslee. “We've dominated the whole conversation. Paige, I really do want to hear more about you.”

I wave a hand. It is far better that I didn't have the chance to get a word in edgewise, not that I would have taken the chance anyway. “No big deal. I'm actually about to head out. I've got a long drive home.”

“Oh, not already, Paige,” Preslee says, her face falling. “Mom made dessert. We haven't even pulled it out yet.”

I stand and shrug. “That's okay. Some other time. Wes, it was nice to meet you. Good to see you, Preslee.” I give Mom and Dad a hug.

“I made cinnamon cake though, honey,” Mom says as I hug her. “Are you sure you can't stay? Just thirty more minutes?”

I shake my head and slip my purse over my shoulder. I have reached the limit. If I don't leave now, I will say a lot of things I'll wish I hadn't tomorrow. Besides, cinnamon cake is Preslee's favorite.

Not mine.

“Next time. I'll see you guys soon.” I pat Honey on the head and run out the door before they have a chance to formulate another excuse for me to stay.

I hurry to my car, unlock it, slide in, turn the key, and back out. I'm halfway to the interstate before the tears come.

They slide out one at a time at first. Hot and heavy, tracing down my face before dropping into my lap.

I stayed. I was here. I was the one who followed all the rules, heard all the complaints, and dealt with the aftermath of Preslee's behavior. It was
me
who held Mom the years that Preslee hadn't even bothered to call on Christmas or Mother's Day.

And now she is back. Happy. Healthy. Beautiful. Engaged. Right back to living in her old bedroom like nothing ever happened.

And somehow, I suddenly feel like the outsider.

I get home a little before ten, completely physically and emotionally exhausted. I climb the stairs, unlock my door, lock it behind me, and walk through the dark apartment to my bedroom. I put on my pajamas, brush my teeth, and climb into bed.

I look at my Bible but don't pick it up. I just know it will have some verse about loving your enemies or praying for those who hurt you, and I just can't read that tonight.

Then I cry myself to sleep.

Chapter

10

M
onday and Tuesday are rough days. By Wednesday, I'm wound so tight I'm worried about sitting in my swivel chair at work.

Peggy stops by my desk on her way in. “You okay, Paige?” She's carrying a coffee thermos that most likely has green tea in it by the acrid smell wafting from the open lid.

“Fine.”

“Well, you don't seem fine. Are you sure you're —?”

“I'm
fine
, Peggy.”

She holds her free hand up. “Okay, okay. I won't push.” She leaves to go to her office.

“Peggy …” I sigh, rubbing my forehead.

She smiles and shrugs it off. “No harm, no foul, Paige. I'll be in my office.”

My phone buzzes then and I look at the text from Tyler.

W
HAT ARE YOU UP TO AFTER YOUTH GROUP TONIGHT?
W
ANT TO GO GET DESSERT?

The last in a long string of texts from him. He sent me a message right after I got home Sunday night asking how it went, he asked if we could do dinner on Monday, then dinner on Tuesday …

I don't like this side of me that I am seeing. And I like Tyler.

A lot, if I have to be completely honest.

It's best that I work through these emotions without putting him through the wringer while I am doing it.

I type a quick one word reply. M
AYBE.

Somehow I get through the day without injuring anyone. I run home, change clothes, consider calling Rick to tell him I'm not coming tonight, and then decide to just go.

Better that than Natalie showing up at the house with baby Claire demanding what's wrong and not leaving until I tell her.

I am jealous of my sister
.

Not a pretty thing to say to anyone. Even just putting it into thought form makes me wince.

And here I think I am such a strong, sensible Christian.

I walk into the youth room at 5:34, but one look at my face and Rick doesn't shoot the marshmallow gun he has aimed at the door to fire on latecomers. Tyler walks in and looks at me, concern spreading over his whole face.

Rick prays, says a few things about the lessons that I don't hear, and then everyone stands. I start for the door as well.

“Wait for a second, Paige,” Rick says, not moving from where he's straddling his chair. He leans over, tucks the gun on the floor under the chair, and then sits back up, leaning forward to rest his arms on the chair back, just looking at me.

The door closes behind Tyler and Rick nods to my chair. “Have a seat.”

I sit, making sure Rick hears my sigh.

“Theatrics aren't going to help here, Paige. What's up? I don't think I've ever seen you so mellow.”

“I'm tired,” I say. And I am. I've spent the past three nights tossing and turning half the time.

This should not be upsetting me as much as it is.

Rick just looks at me. “And?”

“And what?”

“That's what I just asked. I know you, Paige Alder. You are not just tired.”

I sigh again and rub my face. “I don't know, Rick. I don't want to talk about it. I feel petty.”

“Someone steal your favorite parking space?”

“Preslee is back to stay.”

Rick and Natalie know how much Preslee hurt me. Right after everything happened with her, I spent about three days crying on their sofa. They've had to hear me gripe every year about how Preslee didn't come home for Christmas or whatever the major event was.

“I remember,” Rick says.

“She's back and she's completely changed and she's engaged.” He already knows some of this, but I can't help the repeat. “She's a Christian, she's beautiful and stylish, she's marrying this guy who's equally beautiful and stylish, and she's happy and I just feel …” I let my voice trail off, covering my eyes.

“Sympathy for the older brother of the prodigal son?”

“Lots of sympathy.”

He watches me for a second, pursing his lips. “Are you jealous?”

Rick asks the worst questions sometimes. I stand and start pacing. “She did everything wrong, Rick. She broke the law over and over again and not only that, she broke my parents' hearts over and over again.”

He nods. “I know.”

“She didn't even come to my graduation, did you know that? Or my twenty-first birthday. She wasn't there when I got my first real job or when I bought my first car.”

“I know.”

“She did everything wrong,” I say again.

“So you feel guilty for feeling jealous of her.”

I sit down and try not to cry.

“Paige,” Rick says, and there's about nine hundred pounds of compassion in his tone. I don't see this side of Rick very often. He's usually the goofy guy, the one who makes jokes and has fun and causes the kids to laugh.

I shake my head, will the lump in my throat to go down, and mash the corners of my eyes. The last thing I need is to go to my class of freshmen girls and have them all asking questions too.

“Look, I'm not going to tell you what's right or wrong here, because it seems to me that you're already under enough conviction, but I just want you to remember something. God's plan for Preslee is not His plan for you.”

I just look at him. “He planned for me to do everything right and her to do everything wrong?”

“Maybe on the surface.”

The word
surface
pricks at my conscience. Rick looks at the clock on the wall. “It's time for small groups to start. We're not done talking. I'll see you after you get off work on Friday. Just come on to the house for dinner.”

“I'll be fine, Rick.”

“I wasn't asking, Paige.” He gets up and leaves. I sit there for another second.

There's a soft knock on the door and Tyler sticks his head in. “You okay?” he asks sweetly.

I'm not sure I know anymore.

Cracker Barrel is not crowded at eight thirty on Wednesday nights. I follow the hostess to a table and sit down, Tyler sits opposite me. This is becoming something of a habit.

Tyler's a big Cracker Barrel fan. He's like a seventy-year-old living in a twenty-five-year-old's body.

“Cobbler time,” he says, not even looking at the menu. He looks across the table at me and smiles. “How was small group?”

“Fine,” I say. And it was. The girls were distracted with school coming to a close in a few weeks and summer starting, but it was nice in a way because I didn't have to focus too much on what I was doing.

A waitress comes by and takes our order. Tyler gets peach cobbler with ice cream and coffee. I just get a cup of decaf. I don't need anything else keeping me up tonight.

“So, you okay, Paige?” Tyler reaches across the table for my hand. He's only held my hand once before. He holds it carefully now, gently.

Suddenly, I'm very jittery and very thankful I didn't order anything caffeinated or sugary. And that old worry about him just being a sweet friend resurfaces.

Why
hasn't
he made anything official yet? And is it way lame to ask?

“I'm fine,” I say for what feels like the 547th time this week.

He just looks at me, blue eyes probing, and I sigh.

So much for not dragging him through this with me.

“My sister? Preslee? She's back in the area.”

Tyler doesn't know a lot of the history there. I didn't tell him very much, simply because I didn't like talking about her.

I still don't.

“Okay.” Tyler nods. “You're not happy about this.”

“Honestly? I don't know what I am.” The waitress comes over and sets two cups of coffee in between us. Tyler reluctantly lets go of my hand and I rip open a packet of sugar and eye the bowl of creamers that have likely been sitting there unrefrigerated on the table all day.

“Well, you don't have to tell me details,” he says, gently. “I just want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk.” His eyes are soft, his smile reassuring. He looks adorable today, not that he looks that different than other days. Jeans. T-shirt. His hair is curly despite his obvious efforts to tame it down for work earlier, and that makes me smile.

I really do like this guy.

We end up talking about everything except Preslee until almost ten, and then Tyler drives me back to my car, which is now the only car in the church parking lot.

“Thank you, Tyler.” I feel content for the first time since Sunday.

“Thanks for coming with me, Paige.”

I sit there in the passenger seat of his truck, not making any moves to leave. He doesn't seem too sad about it. He puts the truck into park and leans back in his seat. The radio is playing some Chris Tomlin song very quietly, and everything feels peaceful.

“Preslee ran away from home when she was seventeen,” I say into the silence. I hadn't even known I was about to start telling the story.

Tyler looks over at me and nods.

“We knew it was coming.” I rub my temples. “I had already left home to come here for school, so I missed a lot of the end of it, but even when I lived at home, things weren't good. Preslee was always the one to push the rules to the breaking point.” She spent a great majority of her junior-high years being grounded.

I skip a lot of the things that led up to it. “Anyway, right before she left, she got a tattoo and decided to move in with her boyfriend, who was in her band and I'm pretty sure he lived in a van.” I take a deep breath, remembering those days. “It was awful, Tyler. She just left. Slammed out the door one day and we didn't see her again for months. Mom and Dad looked everywhere. I missed a week of classes and we drove up to Oklahoma where Spike's mom said his band just got a gig. We couldn't find her.”

Tyler reaches for my hand.

“Anyway, about three months after she left, Mom got a call from her. Preslee said she was fine, she was happier without them, and she would prefer if they would just stop looking for her because there was no way she was ever going home again.” I close my eyes, remembering when Mom called me in tears. I drove home that same day after classes, spent the night crying with Mom and Dad, got up at three in the morning, and drove back in time for my seven o'clock class the next day.