On Thursday, Mitchell insisted on coming to camp with them. It was his one day off from the store, so Joanne was somewhat surprised he wanted to spend it commuting to Yellow Field and back. "I want to meet this man Jason is always raving about," Joanne's husband said. "This man you've agreed to pay $25 a session for private coaching all summer."

"I didn't agree," Joanne insisted. "I told him I'd discuss it with you first. And the session will be a full hour long."

"$25 an hour. Not a bad little racket for Coach Eric Taylor."

"Darling, you make considerably more than $25 an hour."

"I take on a lot of business risks to do it. And you know half that income goes to pay business expenses."

"They need the money," Joanne told him. "His wife is pregnant, and she's having complications, and they need to pay for some kind of medicine…"

"Is that the sob story he gave you?" Mitchell asked.

"No! I overheard them talking. He didn't ask to coach Jason. But he's done wonders with our son in just three days. You see how excited Jason is. Why are you so prejudiced against this man? You haven't even met him!"

Mitchell crossed his arms sullenly over his chest. "Well, you're certainly quite the champion of him. You talk about him enough."

Did she? She hadn't thought so. A blush crept into her face. "I just think he's good for Jason," she said, putting a soothing hand on Mitchell's shoulder and kissing his cheek. "You want the best for Jason. You're a good father."

Joanne made it a point not to let her eyes linger even a moment on Coach Taylor when she introduced him to her husband at the edge of the field that morning. The men gripped hands firmly for an introductory shake. "How about them Cowboys?" Mitchell asked in a strained attempt to make conversation.

"How about them?" Coach Taylor asked.

"Well, uh….they're…."

" - Not even in summer training at the moment," Coach Taylor said.

"But…go Cowboys!" Mitchell made a motion with his fist, a sort of lame, uncommitted one.

"Well, hopefully they won't be quite as terrible this season anyway," Coach Taylor said. "Hey," he said, motioning to Mitchell, "I could use an extra man on the field, until my assistants get here. You want to come out with us, and Jason will show you what we've been working on?"

"Sure," Mitchell said, a little reluctantly.

Joanne watched them from where she sat on the hood of their sedan. Mitchell seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but soon he and Coach Taylor were working together with Jason, and intermittently the men appeared to be chatting with one another.

Mitchell was clearly not in his element, but not because he was unathletic. He'd just never taken a deep interest in football, despite his Texan heritage. He'd been on the gymnastic team in high school, muscular and lean and lithe in those days, Joanne thought wistfully. They'd been so young, and she'd been so infatuated with him in those days.

As men and Jason walked back toward the edge of the field twenty minutes later, Coach Taylor was saying, "Gymnastics is fantastic preparation for football. For young boys, it builds strength better than just about anything else they can do. It wouldn't be a bad idea at all to put Jason in a class in the spring and winter. "

The men shook hands again. Joanne didn't dare ask Mitchell what he thought of Coach Taylor as they drove to the coffee shop where they planned to have breakfast and talk and wait during the course of Jason's camp. So she was relieved when they sat down at a corner table with their coffee and muffins and he said, "I like him. Coach Taylor. He's a solid sort of man."

Joanne didn't know what it meant to be a solid sort of man, but she was glad Mitchell thought so. She suspected Coach Taylor was about to become a semi-regular part of their son's life, and she wanted Mitchell to like him.

"Did you know his wife went to UNT?" Mitchell asked.

She'd seen Coach Taylor wearing a UNT shirt the other day and so was not surprised, but she hadn't thought to mention it to Mitchell. He'd gone to UNT for a business degree while she worked full-time as a secretary to help put him through school. But she wasn't going to tell Mitchell she'd been staring at Coach Taylor's chest long enough to notice what his shirt said. "No," she said. "I didn't know that."

"Our paths wouldn't have crossed, though. I graduated a year before she started." He poured some cream into his coffee. Two tablespoons, not sugar. Joanne knew precisely how he took it. That hadn't changed in fifteen years. "I invited them and their daughter for dinner Saturday night, after Coach Taylor has his first session with Jason. I should be home by 6 PM that evening."

"Oh," Joanne said, a little flustered at the idea of having Coach Taylor in her dining room. "I better come up with a good menu then."

Mitchell snorted. "It doesn't have to be a good menu, Joanne. I'm sure they'd be content with burgers or chili. They're bringing a green salad."

Green salad, Joanne thought. She had to come up with a good menu that would go well with green salad….

[Saturday]

The week-long Pee Wee football camp drew to a close, and Coach Taylor had his first private coaching session with Jason. He brought his whole family with him for the dinner that was to follow, and while he coached Jason, Tami and Julie sat in the Street's living room.

"Mitchell will be home shortly," Joanne told them as they settled in and Julie went straight for the bowl of Chex Mix Joanne had left out on the coffee table.

"Save room for dinner," Tami Taylor warned her.

"So how do y'all like living in Dillon?" Tami asked her. "Y'all came from San Antonio? Must be a big change."

"It's been an adjustment," Joanne said. "For all of us, but I like it well enough. Mitchell loves the store. I keep busy volunteering with the PTA and the community association."

"Well, since we might move here one day, I'm wondering what the schools are like?"

"Can I go play outside?" Julie asked, clearly bored by the conversation already.

Coach Taylor and Jason were in the front yard, and Joanne didn't want the girl interfering with their session. "Sure, honey," Joanne told her. "Why not go in our backyard? There's a swing set out there."

Julie disappeared, and Joanne answered, "The schools aren't quite up to my standards, but they aren't bad, and I can't imagine they're any worse than Yellow Field's." When the words were out, she realized they must sound insulting and pretentious, and she wished she could restate. But Tami seemed un-offended.

"That's what I figured. Luckily, Julie reads a lot. She always supplements her education at home." She took a sip of the glass of sweet tea Joanne had poured her.

When the session was over and Mitchell arrived and they'd settled down to dinner, Tami Taylor directed and carried the brunt of the conversation. Coach Taylor, who had been very confident and well-spoken on the field, was rather quiet over dinner. He made some football-related small talk with Mitchell, but then concentrated on his food. It struck Joanne that he might be considerably more introverted than she had initially realized. Not shy, exactly, but not very social. Fortunately, he had his wife to be his mouthpiece. When Joanne noticed that Mitchell was charmed by her, she envied Tami her easy extroversion, her skilled sociability, and also her gorgeous hair and sweet southern smile.

Joanne had hoped Mitchell and Coach Taylor would speak more to one another, maybe forge a friendship so Mitchell would not be jealous of Coach Taylor's likely place in their son's life, but it was Mitchell and Tami who talked most to one another – about their shared alma mater, about a professors they had both had for statistics, about the traditions. Coach Taylor looked like he was growing bored. He was staring off at the hutch while sipping his beer. Julie and Jason had already been excused and had gone outside to play together. To Joanne's relief, though, Coach Taylor finally spoke, "Is that the Army of Northern Virginia at the Second Battle of Manassas?"

Joanne had no idea what he was talking about until she realized he was looking at the painting that was to the left of the hutch.

Mitchell followed his gaze. "Yes. Are you a Civil War buff?"

"Not really," Coach Taylor said, "But I did go through a Civil War phase when I was a boy."

"Don't all boys?" Mitchell asked. "I think I still have the little soldiers I painted in a box in the garage somewhere."

"Tami threw mine away," Coach Taylor told Mitchell.

"I did not," she insisted. "They got lost in the last move."

"Uh-huh," Coach Taylor said, "along with my Pee Wee trophies." He returned his attention to Mitchell. "I minored in American history."

"Me too," Mitchell said. "Majored in business, but minored in American History."

"I thought you double majored in physical education and early childhood education?" Joanne said. That seemed like a lot – two majors and a minor. "And played football?"

"Gut majors," Coach Taylor answered. "Jogging and finger painting. What made you want that painting?" he asked Mitchell.

The men began to talk a bit about history, and Joanne was glad to see them connect. She invited Tami back to the living room and left the men to talk. As they walked, Tami put a hand at her side and winced.

"Are you okay?" Joanne asked her.

"Bad cramp," she said. "May I use your restroom?"

Joanne directed her to its location in the hall and returned to the living room. She was just about to settle onto the couch when she heard Tami Taylor's panicked voice, crying for her husband.