“I’m very tired, but I’m thinking very straight,” she said. “Peyton needs some time with his father, and he’s going to have it.”

Faced with defiance, Peyton’s uncle was unable to fake civility. He glared at them as the corner of his mouth twitched.

“If you’re thinking of raising your voice, think again,” Nurse Buck said as she opened the door and held it open for him. “Remember to sign out as you leave.”

Uncle Julian tried to give the nurse a condescending smile, but he had to look up to do it, which rendered the effect more comical than threatening.

Nurse Buck rolled her eyes as he left. “You all keep it quiet, and I’ll see if I can give you an extra hour,” she said, winking at Peyton’s mother. She looked Peyton up and down. “You’re wet.”

“She’s right—you are wet,” his mother said, finally able to focus on something besides battling his uncle.

“Yes, ma’am. I was on a fishing trip when I just felt like I needed to get back here. I kinda jumped in the river.”

The nurse raised an eyebrow. “You kinda jumped in the river?”

“I definitely jumped in the river.”

Nurse Buck reached into a drawer and pulled out a hospital gown. “Put this on and leave your clothes outside the door. I’ll get them dried.”

“Bless you, Ida,” his mother said. “You’re an angel in uniform.”

“Wish I could talk you back into one.”

“Maybe one day.”

The nurse checked his father’s temperature and pulse. “About the same.”

“We’ll be grateful for that much,” Peyton’s mother said.

Nurse Buck was about to leave the room when she stopped in the doorway, turned, and said, “You stay strong now, Katydid, and let me know if you need anything.”

As the nurse closed the door, Peyton stepped into the bathroom and changed, then stacked his wet clothes outside in the hallway and pulled up a chair. “Why does she call you Katydid?”

“Didn’t you know your mama’s a spy? That’s my secret code name when I parachute behind enemy lines.”

“I’m trying to picture you in combat boots, jumping out of a plane,” he said with a frown.

“You don’t think I could pull it off?”

Peyton reached over and gently tugged at the string of pearls around his mother’s neck. “You’re way too girly to be a spy. And way too honest.”

She brushed at his hair with her fingertips. “You need a haircut.”

“You always think I need a haircut.”

“Do I? I’m sorry. I never wanted to be one o’ those naggin’ mamas.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not. I just like to give you a hard time so you’ll have to earn that Mother’s Day corsage every year.”

She held his chin in her hand and sighed. “I see so much of him in you—your daddy, I mean. You’re tall like him. Same broad shoulders. Same high cheekbones and strong jawline. Same silky hair.”

“Different color though.”

“True. I guess you reached way back yonder to some ancestor with dark hair and eyes. My whole family’s fair. Marshall’s hair used to turn nearly blond in the summertime, back when we lived on Tybee and spent so much time at the beach. You can still see little flecks of gold in it.”