“Oh, Peyton, people have troubles. We can’t always help. Even when it’s our own child, sometimes we aren’t what they need.”

“I don’t have children,” Peyton softly reminded her. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Pah! God has not spoken yet, that’s all!”

“Well, I hope He sends me a text pretty soon, because I’m not getting any younger.”

“My mother had her last child at forty-six,” Paco said.

“I know. And I’m not doing that!”

Corinne patted her hand. “Nor should you, darling. I don’t know what that woman was thinking. So, tomorrow we’ll pull a little more out of the garden. I have some baking to do because next weekend there are a lot of family here. We’ll can— I have bushels of tomatoes and other things in the cellar staying cool and fresh. You can take vegetables home to your friends. You can rest. After a night in a good bed, you’ll be smiling again. Ted has a gift—a chance to manage his own family.” She squeezed her hand. “He may not know it yet, but he’s very lucky.”

“He knows it, Mama. He could’ve been too late. And he was in time.”

“I hope he thanked you for all you did.”

“He did. Mama, did your children ever give you problems you couldn’t help with?”

Corinne laughed. “More times than I could count. As recently as five minutes ago.”

Peyton didn’t even realize how emotionally drained she was until she turned in at eight. She checked her phone to make sure there were no messages. She texted Scott and told him she hoped he had had a good time at the game, that she was with her parents and would be back Sunday. She then texted Ted and said she hoped he was doing all right, that she had faith in him that he could make things work out in his family.

Of course, he could not text her back unless he borrowed a phone from one of the kids. But he could email her. She saw it as a good sign that he didn’t. Perhaps he was busy with his children. And perhaps he was letting her go.

And then she slept the sleep of the emotionally depleted.

In the morning she worked in the garden with her mother, helped with lunch and after that she fled to the hayloft. And there, lying on her back, one ankle propped on a raised knee, she thought. When I get home we’ll talk about things, like trust and faith and true love. I hope I can get through to him because I love him. And I’m not going to give up without a fight.

* * *

Scott saw the door to the Lacoumette house standing open, and good smells were wafting outside. It was a beautiful September afternoon. Peyton’s car was parked in front, and he pulled up alongside it. He walked across the porch and stepped through the doorway. “Anyone home?” he called.

“In the kitchen,” Corinne yelled.

He found Corinne at the stove and Peyton’s brother George sitting at the workstation with a cup of coffee.

“Dr. Grant,” Corinne said, wiping her hands on a towel. “We weren’t expecting you!”

“I came on the spur of the moment. I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

“It’s all right, it’s all right! George, go get your sister out of the hayloft.”

“The hayloft?” Scott said. “Oh, she’s working things out again? No, leave her there. But I have an idea—can you tell me where to find Paco?”

“I’ll take you,” George said. He stood and drained his cup and put it in the sink. “He’s probably watching the harvester—the potatoes are coming in. I’m so glad I don’t have potatoes. Dirty work. Come with me.”

As he was following George out of the back of the house, he heard Corinne say she’d set a place for him for dinner. She had not asked him what he was doing here and on the drive out to the fields, George didn’t, either. In fact, George didn’t have much to say at all. He remarked on the weather, said again he was glad his crop just had to be sheared and he didn’t have to harvest so much, especially the delicate fruits of pears and berries. He just liked to eat them.

Paco was leaning against the front of his old pickup truck, arms crossed over his broad chest, one leg crossed in front of the other. He watched two enormous pieces of farm equipment moving slowly down the rows of potatoes, spitting them out into trucks.

“There you go,” George said.

When Scott got out, George sped away. Scott had expected him to get out, maybe make a little small talk with his father, give Scott some time to amp up his courage.

“Dr. Grant,” Paco said. “You hungry again?”

He laughed. “Yes, sir. Something pretty wonderful seems to be happening in that kitchen.”

“Good, good. You look well enough for a man looking for his girlfriend’s father.”

Well, he’s straight to the point. “Right now Peyton isn’t very happy with me. I’ll have some penance to pay.”

“Don’t worry too much. She’s a forgiving girl.”

“Your farm does very well, Mr. Lacoumette. You have a true gift.”

“It’s a good farm most days.”

“It’s one of the biggest farms in the state. I looked it up on the internet.”

“Pah, that internet. It should be illegal. It knows too damn much.”

“It would be a very helpful tool for a farmer.”

“It is. It is. We use it. But it knows too damn much. A man has no secrets anymore. So, you planning to rob me?”

“Yes, sir, I am. If Peyton forgives me for being a fool, I want to ask her to marry me. And that’s a lot to ask, believe me. I have children. I have a crazy life sometimes. Sometimes I have no sense.”

“Peyton knows children and crazy. She grew up here. But I don’t know. You’re not Basque. What are you?”

He laughed a little. “Everything,” he said.

“At least there are no feuds,” Paco said. “Intermarry enough and the feuds all die away. So, what do you have to offer her? Or did you just come to examine her dowry?”

“She has a dowry?” Scott asked.

Paco turned to face him. “Look at me! Do I look like a rich man?” He turned the pockets on his worn overalls inside out. “I have no money.” Then he gestured to the fields where those huge harvesters that cost about a billion each chugged along. “My wealth is in the ground! In the stock! In the orchard.” Then he paused meaningfully and said, “In my children. That’s the dowry—she is worth a king’s ransom to me.”

“I don’t have much. A clinic that’s small and takes every cent to run. But I love her, Mr. Lacoumette.”

“Well, let’s talk about what you have. Do you have a strong heart? Are you a man of your word? Are you faithful and willing to work for your family? Do you have a generous spirit that’s willing to help people?”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“And are you willing to dance for your family?” he asked softly. “Because life is not only work, you know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, perhaps you’ll do. I leave that to my daughter. And I warn you, she has made a mistake or two.”

“She won’t make a mistake with me, sir.”

“She’s stubborn—it’s terrible at times. She’s also very softhearted. I see her with the children and with the animals, and she has trouble being firm with them. She has a difficult nature when she wants to be right, but I admit she gets that from her mother. But she’s not delicate, that’s an advantage. You might have trying days with her, son. She will not be easy to tame.”