“I have an idea,” Scott said. “Pick a practice day early in the schedule. Tell the boys we’re doing physicals at the gym. Tell them if they have insurance information to bring it, and if they don’t, don’t worry about it.”

“That’d be great, Scott. I’ll help shoulder the cost of that,” Spencer said.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Scott said. “I’ll do blood draws and urine tests, and if we find anything hinky, FHIAP will step up to the plate for low income families.”

“FHIAP?” he asked.

“Family Health Insurance Assistance Program,” Peyton explained. “If they’re sick, that is. They don’t provide football physicals, but it’s one of the best ways to find out if they’re sick. I’ll come with Scott. How many boys on the team?” she asked.

“Thirty,” Spencer said. “Sometimes we get thirty-five.”

“We’ll clear appointments for a morning,” she said. “What time of day do you start practice?”

“Early. Six-thirty.”

“Awww...” she whined. “You’re as bad as a farm! My dad wasn’t happy unless everyone was out of bed at five!”

Scott laughed. “I’ll be there and Miss Slug-abed can catch up.”

“I’ll be there,” she groaned. “I can help. And since Scott is pretty incompetent at paperwork, I’ll help keep that straight so Devon doesn’t eat him alive. Too bad hunting season is so late in the fall—we get some amazing venison jerky off the farm.”

Scott covered her hand. “Every time I’m at the store, I’ll throw some jerky in the cart for Spencer.”

“Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom,” Jenny said, tugging at Scott’s sleeve.

“The house is unlocked,” Spencer said. “I better find Mercy and make sure she’s under control. Thanks, you guys! On behalf of the team, I owe you one.”

Scott talked Will into making a bathroom run at the same time, Spencer left in search of his family, and suddenly Peyton was there alone. What just happened here? she wondered. We’re not just a clinic. We’re propping up our neighbors. We’re feeding the hungry kids, making sacrifices to be sure they’re educated, all for one, one for all. Everything was a community project.

It was a lot like being at home.

Ted had given to charitable causes. He’d usually done so in a tux, writing a check. But checks were important, too. Very important. And he’d taken on the occasional patient who couldn’t meet the cost of the best cardiologist in the state, but it just didn’t feel the same as this. He didn’t ever get his hands dirty.

She looked around the beach. The volleyball net had gone up. Al, the foster father, was having a beer and laughing with his lady friend, Ray Anne the Realtor, while his boys were playing in the game. One of the boys was helping young Austin watch for the ball and position his hands so he could bump the ball. Over at Cooper’s area, Landon was holding his baby niece, rocking her against his shoulder while Ham repeatedly nudged him in the waist. Rawley was having some dessert with Carrie. Mac and Gina were surrounded by family—a bunch of kids, Mac’s aunt Lou and her husband, Joe. All her new friends were here.

Peyton tried to remember what it felt like to be completely dazzled by Ted, by his polished good looks, his brilliance, his mystique. He had the classiest practice she’d ever worked in, a six-thousand-square-foot decorated beauty to live in, expensive late-model cars to drive. And she believed he had loved her. Until he’d stopped. When had he stopped? She wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe when they began to argue about his kids. Every time she thought about them, it made her sad. She had wanted them to find in her a kindred spirit, a woman who shared a bond in loving Ted.

That hadn’t happened.

Ted had given her beautiful clothes and jewelry. Items she made sure to pack when she left his home, most of which would look painfully out of place here.

Scott brought her cannoli. It made her smile. She had almost never tasted better cannoli in her life. They were almost as good as her mother’s.

* * *

Carrie packed up her beach-mobile with coolers, thermoses, tablecloths and other picnic things. She was ready to head for home when Rawley approached her and said, “I’ll drive over in a few minutes and just help you unload that.”

“I can do it if you have other things to do.”

“I’ll be there directly,” he said.

So, off she went across the beach. She arrived at her house and right behind her came that cranberry-red restored truck that Rawley drove. Without a word, he started carrying things into her house. When all was inside, they met in the kitchen. “I hope you know, I appreciate your help. I’m much better now, Rawley. My knee hardly bothers me at all. I don’t want you worrying.”

“I ain’t worried,” he said, but he didn’t look at her.

“Good. Don’t feel you have to keep up with me.”

“I don’t,” he said.

“You’re here a lot,” she pointed out.

“You’d rather I be scarce?” he asked.

“No. I like you.”

“Good. We have ourselves a deal then.”

“Do we? What kind of deal do we have?” she asked.

“I help out. I don’t have to keep up. I like it. You like it.”

“True,” she said. “Cup of coffee?” she asked.

“I reckon.”

“Have a seat. I’ll put on the pot.”

Before sitting, Rawley put away a few of the things they’d brought in the house. He was so comfortable there, he knew where everything went. Then he sat at the table. “You serve up a good cup of coffee,” he told her.

“I’d better. It’s my business.”

“There’s a thing or two you know about me already. I’m not good around a mess of people. I like being on my own more or less. When your knee went all gimpy, I found out I liked cooking. I’d rather be cooking than serving. On the other hand, you’re awful good with people.”

“Caterers have to be,” she reminded him. “But you like being with me.”

“I don’t mind them other women much, either. You’re all kind of alike.”

“What other women? You mean Lou and Ray Anne? We’re nothing alike!”