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enjoyable and she didn't want to break the mood just yet.  She liked being with Clay, though her reactions to him confused her.  Why did she respond so strongly to him?  Because she was at a crossroads in her life?
    Or was it Clay himself?  His strength, his gentle support, his appreciation of life.  He'd been enthusiastic as he showed her the hot air balloon.  She'd seen it lying in a barn, all spread out.
    As they drove back to Clay's house, she asked, "Is that wicker basket the passengers stand in really safe?"
    "Randy said he's been piloting about ten years.  He's never had an accident.  So I wouldn't worry."
    "I just thought when it comes back down to the ground, it would land hard."
    "Not if it's done right.  Do you think you'll try it?"
    "I'm not sure."
    His quick glance was puzzled.   "You fly in planes, don't you?"
    "Yes.  But they're closed in.  This is open, suspended in midair."
    Clay flicked on his turn signal and passed a tractor rumbling in front of them.  "Did you ever want to be a bird?"
    "Not particularly."
    He chuckled.  "You've never sat on a hill and looked up and wondered what it would be like to soar above everything, to be free to go high and low and see the world from an entirely different perspective?"
    "No.  I've sat on a hill, stared out at miles of sand and dry earth, and wondered what in the world I could do for these people to make their lives easier."
    "You're a crusader."
    "No!  No, I'm not."  She hated when anyone called her that.  It was not meant as a compliment but more as a click of the tongue, as if she and her parents were all Don Quixotes charging at windmills.
    Clay's voice was gentle.  "There's nothing wrong with crusading if that's what you want to do."
    He seemed sincere--sincere enough for her to want to confide her confusion about the direction of her life.  But she couldn't do that.  She had to solve this one herself.
    Shep greeted Paige and Clay at the door when they returned to Clay's house.  He stood on his hind legs, his paws on Paige's thighs.
    "Shep, down," Clay commanded.
    He got a tilt of the head from the dog as if he was asking, "Do you really mean it?"
    Paige laughed.  "It's okay."  She patted Shep's side and scratched around his ears.
    Clay shook his head.  "I don't know what it is with him when he's around you.  He usually follows commands.  I take him to the store and he doesn't bother the customers."
    Paige gave the animal a final pat, and the dog pushed away.  He trotted into the kitchen, heading toward the back door.
    Clay went after him.  "He wants to go out.  We can sit at the table to talk about the games."
    In the car they'd talked about the countryside, music, Doc.  They hadn't gotten around to the Fourth of July.  Paige followed Clay.  "How long have you had Shep?"
    "Since I moved here."
    "I've often wanted to have a dog."
    Clay opened the back door and Shep ran outside.  "Another part of a normal life?"
    "I guess."  Someone to love that would be strictly hers.  She'd always felt her parents belonged to the world, not to her in particular.
    "There are lots of them that need homes.  I got Shep from the SPCA."
    "Did you have a dog as a boy?"
    Clay paused and came over to the table.  "No."  He pulled a chair out and motioned for her to sit.  "As soon as we plan the agenda, we can go for that canoe ride.  Days like this are made for floating in the middle of the lake."
    So many puzzle pieces missing where Clay was concerned.  He was close-mouthed about his background, yet his friendliness was genuine.  "I really know nothing about planning these games.  I mean, I know what a relay race is because we did that in physical education.  But that's about all I know."
    "Think fun, laughter, exertion.  We need something for everyone.  How about a balloon toss?"
    "You bat a balloon back and forth?"
    He laughed and sat down across from her.  "No.  You fill the balloons with water and toss them back and forth to a