unbelief.’”
Faith seemed so simple when Mom talked about it. Jessie blew out a breath. Why did she find it so difficult?
When nobody answered the door at Jessie’s home, Peter drove to the diner. He was anxious to see Jake. He sure hoped the little guy had forgiven him for lettinghim fall last night. Peter was jazzed about taking him to play at the children’s park he’d seen near one of the schools. With Jessie’s supervision, of course. He didn’t trust himself to go solo, and he doubted she would, either.
But who would have guessed he’d have to wait in a long line of chattering people to get into Jessie’s Main Street Diner to see his son? Finally edging inside the noisy place, enticing smells confirmed Jessie’s food was a lot better than the late, so-called dinner he’d eaten near the motel last night. Probably the reason she had so many customers standing in line.
The young woman he’d seen behind the counter yesterday—Lisa—gave him a nod of acknowledgment from her post at the cash register.
He broke from the line. “Is Jake in the back room?”
Lisa frowned. “You’ll have to talk to Jessie about Jake.”
Peering over people’s heads, he spotted Jessie alone behind the counter and headed for her.
A big guy threw out his arm to stop him. “You’ll have to wait in line like everybody else, buddy.”
Peter glanced around as customers closed ranks, preventing him from reaching the counter. “I’m not here to eat,” he tried to explain to the scowling crowd.
“Then you’re in the wrong place,” the big man supplied helpfully.
Peter turned to Lisa, who glanced away. Didn’t look as if he’d get much help there, which made him wish he hadn’t been so pushy with her yesterday when he’d demanded to see Jake. He glanced at the bright, butterfly-patterned curtain that, no doubt, hid his son from him. He’d need a tank to cut through the wall-to-wall customers between him and the curtain.
It didn’t look like he had a lot of choices. He could either start a riot or wait his turn and talk to Jessie at the counter. He settled in for the duration. How long could it take?
Unfortunately, twenty minutes later, the bell over the door still tinkled nonstop, chatter bounced off the old tin ceiling tiles like Ping-Pong balls and Peter still waited in line. The only change was that the delicious smells rising from the grill made his stomach growl with hunger. Maybe he’d have breakfast after all.
Behind the counter, Jessie looked pretty and cheerful in a denim skirt and pink T-shirt with a matching kerchief tying back her hair. She moved as fluidly as a well-trained dancer going through her paces, her limp barely noticeable. She interacted with many of her customers as if they were longtime friends. They probably were.
The tall, unfriendly guy Peter met coming out of Jessie’s back room yesterday eyed him from his seat at the counter. Whatever the guy’s relationship with her was, the way he looked at her told Peter he wanted it to be more. But Jessie’s demeanor said “just friends.” Funny how much that insight pleased Peter.
Finally, a woman vacated her red vinyl stool.
Being next in line, Peter claimed it, catching Jessie’s eye as he sat down.
A frown chasing away her smile, she cleared away the dishes in front of him.
“Good morning,” he said, noting the wariness in her blue eyes. She wasn’t wearing even the touch of makeup she’d worn yesterday. He had the fleeting urge to reach out and touch her smooth, inviting skin. What would she do if he did?
“Coffee?”
“Black, thanks.”
She grasped the coffee pot and filled his cup, her hand shaking enough to slosh a little on the counter.
He hated that he made her nervous. “Thank you. Rough morning?”
“You could say that.” Without meeting his eyes, she whipped a menu from its holder, handed it to him, then moved on to the next customer to fill his cup.
Not exactly friendly. He hoped that didn’t mean
Faith seemed so simple when Mom talked about it. Jessie blew out a breath. Why did she find it so difficult?
When nobody answered the door at Jessie’s home, Peter drove to the diner. He was anxious to see Jake. He sure hoped the little guy had forgiven him for lettinghim fall last night. Peter was jazzed about taking him to play at the children’s park he’d seen near one of the schools. With Jessie’s supervision, of course. He didn’t trust himself to go solo, and he doubted she would, either.
But who would have guessed he’d have to wait in a long line of chattering people to get into Jessie’s Main Street Diner to see his son? Finally edging inside the noisy place, enticing smells confirmed Jessie’s food was a lot better than the late, so-called dinner he’d eaten near the motel last night. Probably the reason she had so many customers standing in line.
The young woman he’d seen behind the counter yesterday—Lisa—gave him a nod of acknowledgment from her post at the cash register.
He broke from the line. “Is Jake in the back room?”
Lisa frowned. “You’ll have to talk to Jessie about Jake.”
Peering over people’s heads, he spotted Jessie alone behind the counter and headed for her.
A big guy threw out his arm to stop him. “You’ll have to wait in line like everybody else, buddy.”
Peter glanced around as customers closed ranks, preventing him from reaching the counter. “I’m not here to eat,” he tried to explain to the scowling crowd.
“Then you’re in the wrong place,” the big man supplied helpfully.
Peter turned to Lisa, who glanced away. Didn’t look as if he’d get much help there, which made him wish he hadn’t been so pushy with her yesterday when he’d demanded to see Jake. He glanced at the bright, butterfly-patterned curtain that, no doubt, hid his son from him. He’d need a tank to cut through the wall-to-wall customers between him and the curtain.
It didn’t look like he had a lot of choices. He could either start a riot or wait his turn and talk to Jessie at the counter. He settled in for the duration. How long could it take?
Unfortunately, twenty minutes later, the bell over the door still tinkled nonstop, chatter bounced off the old tin ceiling tiles like Ping-Pong balls and Peter still waited in line. The only change was that the delicious smells rising from the grill made his stomach growl with hunger. Maybe he’d have breakfast after all.
Behind the counter, Jessie looked pretty and cheerful in a denim skirt and pink T-shirt with a matching kerchief tying back her hair. She moved as fluidly as a well-trained dancer going through her paces, her limp barely noticeable. She interacted with many of her customers as if they were longtime friends. They probably were.
The tall, unfriendly guy Peter met coming out of Jessie’s back room yesterday eyed him from his seat at the counter. Whatever the guy’s relationship with her was, the way he looked at her told Peter he wanted it to be more. But Jessie’s demeanor said “just friends.” Funny how much that insight pleased Peter.
Finally, a woman vacated her red vinyl stool.
Being next in line, Peter claimed it, catching Jessie’s eye as he sat down.
A frown chasing away her smile, she cleared away the dishes in front of him.
“Good morning,” he said, noting the wariness in her blue eyes. She wasn’t wearing even the touch of makeup she’d worn yesterday. He had the fleeting urge to reach out and touch her smooth, inviting skin. What would she do if he did?
“Coffee?”
“Black, thanks.”
She grasped the coffee pot and filled his cup, her hand shaking enough to slosh a little on the counter.
He hated that he made her nervous. “Thank you. Rough morning?”
“You could say that.” Without meeting his eyes, she whipped a menu from its holder, handed it to him, then moved on to the next customer to fill his cup.
Not exactly friendly. He hoped that didn’t mean
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