“You’re supposed to be playing, not sitting,” Grandma called out.

Raylen started to get up, but his boot got tangled in the edge of the quilt. When he fell, he took Liz down with him. They landed with her snuggled up beside him as if they’d been napping on the quilt.

“That was on purpose,” Dewar yelled from the back porch.

Raylen moved to a sitting position. “I’m so sorry. I’m usually not clumsy.”

Liz moved away from him and sat up. “Forgiven. Accidents happen. What are you playing today?”

Raylen raised his broad shoulders in a shrug. “Whatever they want me to play, I guess. I was just going to sit down here and visit with you until they all get here.”

Grandma stopped playing the dulcimer and guffawed. “Don’t be judgin’ him too quick. He might be a little clumsy today, but he can make a fiddle do everything but tell you a bedtime story, and honey, he’s mighty smooth on his feet when it comes to dancin’.”

Liz raised a dark eyebrow. “Oh, really. Care for a contest?”

Raylen cocked his head to one side—just like he did that summer when she was fourteen and she’d thought it was so cute. “Are we talking about fiddlin’ or dancin’? Want to show me what you’ve got? You can play my fiddle and I’ll go in the house and get an old one.”

She stood up. “Mine’s in the truck. You told me if I play an instrument to bring it. You were serious, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was, and yes, I’ll take you up on that contest. Want to bet on it?” he asked.

“Not until I see what you’ve got,” she teased.

“Then you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Raylen grinned.

Jasmine piped up from the edge of the quilt where she was settling down to listen. “Raylen is the one that can play all of our instruments. I swear he could string up a stick with balin’ wire and make it spit out a beautiful song. You might want to rethink challenging him to a contest!”

“I’ll try to hold my own.” Liz stood up and went to her truck for her fiddle. When she returned, Rye had handed Rachel off to Austin and picked up the guitar. Raylen had tuned a fine-looking fiddle. Colleen had a banjo strapped around her neck. Gemma picked at the Dobro. Dewar had a mandolin in his arms, and Maddie had a harmonica up to her mouth.

Liz tightened the strings on her fiddle, positioned it on her shoulder, and ran the bow down across them. She shook her head, made a few adjustments, and tried again. That time she was ready to play. Grandma raised an eyebrow at her, and Liz nodded that she was ready.

Rye struck up a chord, and they all fell in to begin the backyard concert with “Red River Valley,” and followed that with “Bill Bailey.”

Grandma stood up when they finished “Bill Bailey” and kissed Grandpa on the forehead. “Okay, honey. I’m goin’ to sit this one out and we’re goin’ to have a fiddlin’ contest. Liz, you know ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’?”