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“When did you get to be so smart?”

Marge laughed and squeezed her daughter tight. For the first time in a month, Paige didn’t feel the pressure on her ribs as any more than a mild discomfort. She was healing. In more ways than one.

“Sweetie, I’ve been growing and learning as I go along, too. One of the benefits of not being dead yet is I get the chance to try, try again until I get it right. Come here, Paige-O, and I’ll tell you a secret.”

Paige sat up a bit, leaned against her mom’s chest.

“You get better at it. It gets easier. I promise. It won’t always be this hard,” Marge whispered into Paige’s hair.

“But what if it is? What if I really screwed it up this time?”

“Are you still around? Still breathing?” Paige took in a deep breath, savored the cool air, even though it tasted stale from being trapped inside too long. She nodded. “Then you haven’t screwed it up too much. There’s still time.”

Paige didn’t feel the tears until they fell softly on her chest. She wiped at her eyes and sat up.

“Thank you,” she told her mother. She looked deep into the eyes that had raised her, been there for her, even when Paige had discarded everyone and everything that reminded her of Banberry. “Thank you for everything.”

“Shhhh,” her mom told her. “That’s what I’m here for. Now, don’t you think you ought to be getting home so you can start working on that pie first thing?”

“What about Dad?” Paige asked, sniffling. “What about you?”

“We’ll be fine, hun. We always are.”

Paige smiled. They would be, wouldn’t they? She stood, twisted as much as her core, now weak and atrophied, would allow her. With a resounding crack, the release of pressure flooded through her.

Yeah, a night in her own bed would be just what she needed. She hugged her mom, who kissed the top of her head, and walked out the hospital doors into the cold, welcoming it as it enveloped her.

Fall was coming, and for once, she didn’t mind summer’s fade into the distance. She was looking forward, and she liked what she saw.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Another Call for More Help

Whoever rapped atthe door wasn’t getting the message that Paige either wasn’t home or was sleeping in. She needed it, after being out most of the night taking care of her family, half of whom were waking up as new patients of Caldwell Hospital. They knocked for the third time, which was somehow more jarring than her bell had been before it had died. She had to get her dad to fix the bell when he was back on his feet.

Then, like someTwilight Zone-esque plot, the doorbell that hadn’t worked since she was home last somehow rang. And not in a light, airy way, either. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Whoever the hell fixed it for her had her eternal gratitude as well as a thing or two to learn about subtlety.

Jesus. I’m coming. Hold your horses.

Checking her phone for the time—wow, it was already after eleven—she saw she had three missed calls from Aury. She’d call her back in a sec. Triage—the human at her door before the one on her phone. She exhaled slowly as she walked down the stairs, still wiped from the hospital the night before. At least her ribs felt better.

She opened the door to a woman she’d gone to high school with. This had to be a mistake, right? The wrong house, maybe. What was her name again? Carly something. Nevarro, she remembered. Carly Nevarro.

She’d been shy back then, a bit Gothic with black hair and makeup that was all the rage in the nineties. Paige almost didn’t recognize her now, with light brown hair, pale, neutral shades of blush and lipstick, and a trim, fit body that belied an athletic pursuit of some sort.

Paige smiled, surprised to say the least. She wasn’t sure Carly and she had ever talked outside of high school, but she knew Carly hadn’t left town. That much she could keep tabs on with a trip to the local hair salon and Connie’s insatiable gossip. What was harder to suss out, though, is what she was doing on Paige’s doorstep.

“Hi, Paige. I’m not sure you remember me,” Carly started, wringing her hands.

“Carly Nevarro, right?” Paige asked, glad the name had come to her. Paige’d been the outcast in high school, the desperation to leave town taking over the space other students reserved for friendships, dating, parties. She’d been singularly focused on getting good grades so she could get into medical school and leave Banberry forever.

A lot of good that had done her.

“Right. Except it’s Carly Waters now.”

“Congratulations. You married Bill, huh?”

“Yes, and we have a daughter, three. She’s actually why I’m here.” Carly broke down, then, choking out small sobs that shook her petite frame.