Part 27 (2/2)
I laughed. ”It's not. But there's crime everywhere and when you're on the street you're at risk. Gangs, tornadoes ... redheads.”
She smiled. ”If it wasn't for a redhead, you might still be under that bridge. Like a troll.”
I laughed. ”I'm in your debt.”
”It's my pleasure. I almost didn't see you. I think I was inspired.”
”What do you mean?”
”Every morning when I pray, I ask G.o.d to let me help one of His children. As I was approaching the underpa.s.s, I had a strong feeling that I needed to slow down. When I looked up, there you were.”
”You pray for that every day?” I asked.
”Almost,” she said. ”It's amazing the opportunities that have come to me since I started doing that. Most of the time it's someone I'm working with in hospice. Sometimes I'll get these flashes of insight into their lives.”
”You should be sainted.”
”I was thinking the exact same thing,” she laughed, holding her hands open around her face. ”St. Paige.”
I couldn't help but think how cute she looked.
”You said you stopped twice on your walk.”
”The second time was in St. Louis. I found out I had a brain tumor after I pa.s.sed out just outside the city.”
”Is that why you have that scar?” she asked, looking at my head.
I nodded. ”I was taken to the hospital in St. Louis, then ended up flying home to Pasadena for treatment.”
”I thought you said you lived in Seattle.”
”I did,” I said. ”But I left when my wife died.”
She frowned. ”I'm so sorry. Was she ill?”
”No. She died from complications after a horse-riding accident.”
”I'm so sorry,” she said again. ”Does that have something to do with why you're walking?”
”It's the reason I'm walking.”
She shook her head slowly. ”It's hard losing a loved one.”
”You experience it all the time,” I said.
”No, I see death,” she said softly. ”But it's not the same as losing family.”
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