“What for?”

“So Mama can look after you for a while. Otherwise you’re just gonna lie on your sofa feeling sorry for yourself.”

“True. But we’re not leaving until you finish kicking their asses.”

Flann got her settled on a bench with a bag of ice. “Hold that. I’ll be back after I’m done ass kicking.”

When the team finished creaming the opposition, Carrie joined Harper. “How you doing?”

“Looks worse than it is.”

“That’s good to know, because it really looks terrible. You’ve got a lump the size of—well, a softball on your jaw. Do you think it’s broken?”

“I doubt it. Maybe a hairline crack, but nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“That was a freakin’ missile she hit,” Carrie said. “I put it high and outside, but she teed off on it. Sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Flann strode up. “Wouldn’t have hit you if you’d had your head in the game. You shouldn’t be playing if you can’t concentrate.”

“Kiss my ass,” Harper said, and was pleased the words came out clearly.

“You’re lucky daydreaming about a woman didn’t end you up in the ER,” Flann said.

“Who says I was—”

“Tell me you weren’t thinking about a certain blonde with a killer body and a mind like a buzz saw.”

Carrie jumped up. “Okay, I’m out of here for this conversation.”

“No need,” Harper said carefully. “The conversation’s ended.”

Flann looked at Carrie. “You going with everyone to the Hilltop for pizza?”

“I was planning on it.”

“I’ll see you there after I drop this one off.”

Carrie smiled. “Okay.”

*

Flann was mercifully quiet for the first half of the drive home. Harper rode with her head back, her eyes closed, and the ice slowly melting as she held it to her face.

“You asleep?” Flann finally said.

“No.”

“What do you think about what Presley said earlier?”

“I’m not surprised. Are you?” Harper had been thinking about Presley all afternoon. About what she’d said, the way she’d looked, and the sadness in her eyes. She’d been remembering, too, the way she’d looked naked, straddling her, wild and triumphant.

“What?” Flann asked.

“What?”

“You kind of groaned. Are you feeling worse?”

“No, I’m fine,” Harper said, tortured by the memories she didn’t want to give up.

“Got any bright ideas about what we might be able to do to change things? ’Cause Presley is pretty set on what needs to be done.”

“Maybe,” Harper said. “I’ll talk to you and Dad about it when I get things a little more worked out in my head.”

“Don’t take too long. Presley isn’t likely to give us an extension.”

“She’s not the enemy.” Harper wanted to defend Presley even as she struggled to find a way to stop her from doing what she planned.

“Nope,” Flann said lightly, swinging into the drive at the big house. “She’s just the enemy’s hatchet man.”

Flann stopped in front of the house, jumped out before Harper could argue, and came around to help Harper out of the car.

“I’m okay,” Harper griped, shaking off the arm Flann wrapped around her waist. “I don’t need a damn wheelchair.”

“I wasn’t getting you one.”

Harper’s mother came out onto the back porch. “What are you two squabbling about now?” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes as Harper drew closer. “Bat or ball?”

“Ball.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That’s what the glove at the end of your arm is supposed to be for, Harper.”

“It took a funny jump.”

“And that’s what your eyes are for,” she went on, holding open the screen door. She glanced at Flann. “How exactly did you let this happen?”

“Me? It’s not my fault she was sleeping at shortstop.”

“You know the rules. If one of you has been up all night and is too tired to play, the other one makes the call to pull you out.”

“Wasn’t her fault,” Harper said, slumping into a chair at the table. “I just took my eye off the ball for a second.”

“I see.”

Flann kissed their mother quickly on the cheek and backed toward the door. “I’m going for pizza. See you later.”

The door banged shut and she was gone. Ida opened the icebox compartment and pulled out a tray of ice cubes. She ran it under cold water, popped out the cubes, refilled the tray, and put it back in the freezer. After filling a plastic bag with the cubes, she handed it to Harper and took the melted bag from her. “Something happen today? Problem with one of the patients?”

Harper stretched out in the chair, her legs extended under the table, the bag of ice back against her jaw. “Presley called Dad, Flann, and me into her office today. SunView plans on closing the Rivers.”

“Closing it,” Ida said slowly. “That would be hard on everyone around these parts.”

“Yeah, it would.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“We need more money.”

“Don’t we all.” Ida shook her head and slammed a plastic dish basin into the sink. She yanked on the faucet and hot water gushed into the tub. She rinsed glasses and laid them in to soak. “Didn’t the board see this coming?”

“I don’t know. If they did, I don’t think they let Dad in on it.”

“They didn’t, not until very recently.”

“I’ve maybe got an idea, but it’s probably harebrained.”

Her mother stood behind her and gently kneaded her shoulders. “Maybe a harebrained idea is what it’s going to take.”

“Maybe.” Harper closed her eyes. Her mother’s hands were strong and tender on her tight muscles, and just as soothing as they’d been when she was a kid and her mother would tend to her bruises and scrapes.

“What really happened tonight?” Ida asked.

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Why not?”

Harper thought of a million excuses as she let herself relax into her mother’s hands. “I was thinking about Presley.”

“What she told you today about the hospital?”

Slowly, Harper shook her head. “No. About…personal stuff.”

“That overnight visit, you mean.”

Harper felt her face glow bright red. “Yes. Well, not just that.”

“Harper, sweetie,” her mother said gently, “you don’t have to be embarrassed about having feelings or what you got up to with her.”

“That’s just it,” Harper said, “I do have feelings. Feelings that won’t go away.”

“And she doesn’t?”

“She says not.”

“Do you believe her?”

“That’s what she says.”

“You know as well as I that sometimes what we say is not what we feel. Sometimes what we feel scares us. Ask yourself, what scares her?”

Harper opened her eyes and looked into her mother’s face. “One of the first things I noticed about her was how confident she seemed, how in control. I want to say nothing scares her, but I don’t think that’s true. I imagine not being in control scares her a lot.”

Ida nodded. “That makes sense. Although I don’t see you as one to take away anyone’s control, at least not under ordinary circumstances.”

“This is a very embarrassing conversation.”

Ida smiled and continued to massage her shoulders. “I noticed she didn’t talk much about family.”

“Her parents are business tycoons, like her. She’s got a brother, a twin, but she doesn’t mention him much.”

“That’s unusual, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but it never occurred to me any of that would have anything to do with what was happening between us.”

Ida shook her head. “For my oldest, you still have a lot to learn. Family is what makes us who we are, Harper. What we get and what we don’t get from them. Family teaches us what to expect, or what not to expect, in life. And what to be afraid of.”

“Maybe I don’t think about that because family has always been everything to me.”

Her mother kissed her forehead. “Well, you give it some thought. You’re smarter than you look right at this moment.”

Harper tried to grin. “Mama?”

Her mother laid out a dish towel on the counter. “Yes, baby?”

“Do you resent Dad for not being here a lot when we were all little?”

“Resent him?” Her mother pulled a glass from the dishwater and ran it under tap water. “No, I don’t resent him. Was it hard? Sometimes, terribly.” She dried the glass and carefully set it down. “But I’ve always loved your father, and being a doctor’s who he is.” She picked up another glass. “You have to love the person for who they are, even when it hurts.”

*

Presley jerked awake on the front porch at the sound of tires crunching on the gravel. The sun hung low in the sky as Carrie parked and came up the path with her softball gear slung over her shoulder. She deposited her equipment by the door, dropped into the other rocking chair next to Presley’s, and slowly started to rock.

“How did the game go?” Presley asked, striving for normalcy when she felt anything but normal. She’d not only left work early but actually taken a nap, although unintentionally.

“We won, three to two. It was a tough game.”

“Did you pitch?”

“The last half.”

“I’m glad you won.”

“Me too, especially after losing Harper in the seve—”

“What do you mean,” Presley said sharply. “Losing Harper? Did she have an emergency?”

She immediately thought of Jimmy, although of course Harper had hundreds of patients and any of them could have called. Still, Jimmy was the patient she knew, and the patient who would challenge Harper on every level.

“Oh, no. Not a patient. She got hit with the ball and had to come out of the game.”

Presley’s pulse rate rocketed, and her stomach slowly twisted into a knot. “Was she hurt?”

“Flann isn’t sure. She might’ve cracked her jaw.”

Presley sat up straight, stopping the rocking motion of her chair with both feet flat on the floor. “Where is she? The Rivers?”