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heat and rain and mud and I love it.  Nothing...absolutely nothing can replace football."
    She said softly, "It's not only the game, is it?  As star quarterback, you received an awful lot of attention."
    His smile was smug.  "Girls couldn't wait to go out with me."
    "But were they going out with you because you were the star quarterback or because you were Ben Hockensmith?"
    The smugness faded along with the smile.  "What difference does it make?"
    "You tell me."
    He was quiet.  Finally he admitted, "I guess I was more important when I was quarterback."
    "Do you want people to like you for that reason?"
    Ben shifted restlessly in his chair.  "I don't know.  I just..."
    "Just what?"
    He stared pensively at the leg that wouldn't work as well as he wanted it to.  "When I first had the accident, everybody was there.  With flowers and cards and...just there.  Then I went into rehab for a month and it was like everybody forgot I existed.  And when I came home, I was a semester behind in work and everybody acted like the accident never happened.  Like they didn't care anymore.  My old friends...they're just not around now."
    Her heart went out to him and she wanted to ease the loneliness and abandonment he felt, yet she didn't know how.  "Ben, I don't know what to tell you.  Change is hard for everyone.  And people do get sidetracked."
    "I have one friend, one, who still calls and comes around."
    "Then he's a real friend."
    "But I want to play football with the guys, hang around the sports store."
    She heard the catch in his voice.  "I understand how you must feel.  But, Ben, you have to start over."
    He raised his head and his eyes were shiny.  "I don't want to start over.  I want it all back."
    She leaned forward.  "You have to look ahead, not back."
    "Now you sound like that counselor you sent me to.  She doesn't understand squat."
    Paige held his gaze.  "Have you given her a fair chance?"
    "Talking about it isn't going to change it.  She wants me to take these tests."
    "What kind of tests?"
    He lifted one shoulder halfheartedly.  "I don't know.  Bunches of questions that are supposed to show what I like and what I don't."
    She nodded.  "Interest surveys.  They're not exactly tests.  They'll show where your strengths and weaknesses are, what you might be good at.  If you take them, it might give you direction."
    Ben pushed at his cane with his right foot and shoved it closer to his chair.  "I know what I'm good at.  Football."
    Paige stood and went around her desk.  She leaned against the front.  "Will you do me a favor?"
    His expression was wary.  "What?"
    "Do the interest surveys."
    "It's not gonna do any good," he mumbled.
    "Just take them and see what they say."
    He surveyed Paige speculatively.  "Okay.  As a favor to you.  You've been okay with me, Dr. Conrad.  You're straight and don't feed me a line  that everything's going to be fine."
    She had to be honest with herself and her patients to treat them effectively.  That had been her big problem in Africa.  She hadn't been honest with herself.  Compassion and honesty had gotten rolled into one until neither was clear. 
    But she had to forget that for now.  "I want everything to be fine for you, Ben.  But you've got to look ahead, not back."
    He shook his head dejectedly.  "I don't see how."
    She had to make Ben open his eyes to new possibilities, but she didn't know how.  She'd bet her stethoscope Clay Reynolds did.
                                                                 ****
    Paige glanced at Clay as he drove Sunday afternoon, admiring his profile.  His bone structure created strong, defined lines.  His jaw especially was insistently masculine.  He had a way of setting it when she asked him questions he didn't want to answer. 
    He was relaxed today.  She knew why.  He didn't think she'd mention Ben again.  He was wrong, but the early afternoon had been