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guide him? How did he learn to love himself or others if he didn’t have people who loved him show him how? How would he love Jake? “I have a hard time imagining growing up like that. I’m related to half of Noah’s Crossing.”
    “Lucky you.”
    She glanced at his serious face and somehow wantedto make him feel better. “I’m sure you’ve made your parents proud.”
    “Yes,” he said quietly.
    Too quietly. He’d had such a lonely, awful childhood, Jessie’s heart ached for him. But was his childhood the reason he wanted his son? Even if he had no time for him?
    He didn’t have a wife. No girlfriend either if he’d been honest about not having time for relationships. But he must have somebody besides his absent parents. Somebody he was counting on for help. “You said you don’t have time for relationships, but you must have somebody. ”
    He raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “Why are you so interested?”
    “Because of Jake, of course.”
    “You need somebody to vouch that I won’t be a bad influence on the boy? Is that it?”
    “Do you have anybody who would do that?”
    Jaw clenching, he settled back in his seat and focused out the windshield again. “Scott and Karen Kenyon.”
    “Friends?”
    “He was my college professor and has been my friend and mentor ever since. Is that a long enough relationship for you?” He sounded a tad irritated.
    Maybe she was finally getting somewhere. “Have you called to tell them about Jake?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Do they have children?”
    “They’d make great parents, but kids aren’t in the cards for them,” he said sadly.
    She couldn’t help empathizing with them. But a jolt of fear chased away her empathy. Did he want his friends to raise Jake? “They can’t have children?”
    “They have enough on their plates without kids to worry about.”
    This wasn’t adding up. If his friends didn’t have time for children, he couldn’t count on them to help him with Jake, could he? “I don’t understand.”
    He rubbed his chin. “Scott was diagnosed with ALS—you probably know it as Lou Gehrig’s disease—almost two years ago.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Neurological diseases are my specialty.” He crumpled the bag in his hands. “I never dreamed the battle would become personal.” No mistaking the passion in his voice now.
    How could she not admire his dedication to his friend? She couldn’t imagine the pressure he must feel to save him. “How is he doing?”
    “The disease is taking its toll. But we’ve developed a promising experimental drug. We’re hoping it will help Scott.”
    She glanced at him. “I’ll pray for you and your friend.”
    His eyes rounded, then narrowed as if he didn’t know how to respond.
    “You don’t believe in prayer?” she asked.
    He dropped his gaze. “I believe in research.”
    Jessie focused on the wet road again. “It seems to me research and prayer would go hand in hand.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Well, you’re looking for answers to heal people. Who better to ask for help than the Great Healer?” She could feel him studying her.
    “I never thought about it that way,” he said.
    She wanted to tell him maybe he should. After all,the idea of life without prayer was as foreign to her as life without family.
    “Does God hear your prayers, Jessie?” he asked softly.
    She bit her lip. “I honestly don’t know anymore.” Because if He did, Peter Sheridan wouldn’t be here threatening to take Jake away.

Chapter Four
    T he rain had stopped by the time Peter peered uneasily up the gravel drive to the small Cape Cod where Jessie’s dad waited. Fumbling to unhook his seatbelt, he turned to watch Jessie make a game of unfastening Jake from his car seat, her movements gentle and caring. In spite of her distrust of Peter, there was such a warmth about her, especially when she interacted with Jake.
    Could he ever be the kind of parent who showed his son he cared with every move? Given his lack of a role