she’d changed her mind about teaching him how to handle Jake. Sipping great coffee, Peter studied the menu, his gaze wandering to Jessie turning eggs and sausage on the grill, scooping orders onto plates and delivering them to customers. Compassion, efficiency and a great cook wrapped in a very pretty package. He couldn’t help wondering why she was still single.
Finally, she stopped in front of him. “Have you decided what you’d like?”
“Is Jake in the back?”
“Yes. He’s napping.” Her eyes looked pinched as if she could use a nap, too.
“Can I have some more coffee down here, Jess?” a deep voice boomed.
Jessie jumped as if she’d been caught playing hooky, grabbed the coffee pot and hurried to take care of the demanding customer.
Sipping his coffee, Peter watched her tend the grill, serve customers, hand out checks and clear away dishes from the counter without missing a beat. She headed his way with the coffeepot in hand.
She filled his cup. “Do you know what you’d like?”
“I’ll have number nine on the menu. How long will Jake sleep?”
“Judging by how tired he was, at least a couple hours.” She moved along the counter filling customers’ cups.
Peter sighed. At this rate, it would take him all morning to make plans with Jessie to play with Jake.
“You picked the wrong time to try to talk to her.” The hefty man with thinning hair on Peter’s right took a final bite of toast.
Peter gave the man a look to discourage his interest.
“She’s got her routine down to an art form,” the man said. “And she doesn’t like to be interrupted.”
The look hadn’t worked. Peter felt a little on the cranky side for lack of sleep, and he was only too aware he was wasting valuable time away from his research.
“I’m Jessie’s uncle Harold.”
Great. He’d been rude to her uncle. Peter turned to the man wearing a white shirt and tie and stuck out his hand. “Peter Sheridan.”
Harold wiped his fingers on his napkin before he shook Peter’s hand. “I know who you are. So does most of Noah’s Crossing. Your name was on everybody’s lips at church fellowship this morning.”
What were they doing? Praying for him, too? That couldn’t be good, could it?
“How long are you staying?” Jessie’s uncle asked.
“I need to head home tonight.”
Harold pushed his empty plate away and held Peter’s gaze. “Jessie’s been through some real tough times. We almost lost her in a bad car accident a couple years ago. Then her sister died. Little Jake means the world to her and her folks. I hope you’re not planning to bring more heartache to that family.”
Peter sighed. He should have guessed Jessie’s accident had been life-threatening. It probably explainedher limp, too. And gave added credence to Clarissa’s decision to take personal leave and come home for her baby’s birth. What if she hadn’t? If she’d stayed in New York, maybe she would never have told her family about Jake, either. “I want to be a father to my son, that’s all.”
“Commendable. How you planning to do that from Madison?”
Peter narrowed his eyes. Jessie’s uncle or not, he wanted to ask the man what business any of this was of his.
Jessie set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of Peter that smelled as good as it looked. “Uncle Harold, can you handle the cash register until Aunt Lou gets here, please?”
Peter glanced to the empty spot where Lisa had stood.
“Where’s Lisa?” Jessie’s uncle asked.
“She’s not feeling well.”
Harold gave a nod. “Morning sickness.”
Busy clearing Harold’s used dishes, Jessie snapped her head around. “Lisa’s pregnant?”
“That’s what Lou says.”
Jessie frowned as if the news was anything but joyful. “But little Denise is only nine months old.”
“Surprises happen, Jess.”
Shaking her head, she hustled away with the dishes.
Peter was surprised by Jessie’s reaction to the news of a baby on the way. The
Finally, she stopped in front of him. “Have you decided what you’d like?”
“Is Jake in the back?”
“Yes. He’s napping.” Her eyes looked pinched as if she could use a nap, too.
“Can I have some more coffee down here, Jess?” a deep voice boomed.
Jessie jumped as if she’d been caught playing hooky, grabbed the coffee pot and hurried to take care of the demanding customer.
Sipping his coffee, Peter watched her tend the grill, serve customers, hand out checks and clear away dishes from the counter without missing a beat. She headed his way with the coffeepot in hand.
She filled his cup. “Do you know what you’d like?”
“I’ll have number nine on the menu. How long will Jake sleep?”
“Judging by how tired he was, at least a couple hours.” She moved along the counter filling customers’ cups.
Peter sighed. At this rate, it would take him all morning to make plans with Jessie to play with Jake.
“You picked the wrong time to try to talk to her.” The hefty man with thinning hair on Peter’s right took a final bite of toast.
Peter gave the man a look to discourage his interest.
“She’s got her routine down to an art form,” the man said. “And she doesn’t like to be interrupted.”
The look hadn’t worked. Peter felt a little on the cranky side for lack of sleep, and he was only too aware he was wasting valuable time away from his research.
“I’m Jessie’s uncle Harold.”
Great. He’d been rude to her uncle. Peter turned to the man wearing a white shirt and tie and stuck out his hand. “Peter Sheridan.”
Harold wiped his fingers on his napkin before he shook Peter’s hand. “I know who you are. So does most of Noah’s Crossing. Your name was on everybody’s lips at church fellowship this morning.”
What were they doing? Praying for him, too? That couldn’t be good, could it?
“How long are you staying?” Jessie’s uncle asked.
“I need to head home tonight.”
Harold pushed his empty plate away and held Peter’s gaze. “Jessie’s been through some real tough times. We almost lost her in a bad car accident a couple years ago. Then her sister died. Little Jake means the world to her and her folks. I hope you’re not planning to bring more heartache to that family.”
Peter sighed. He should have guessed Jessie’s accident had been life-threatening. It probably explainedher limp, too. And gave added credence to Clarissa’s decision to take personal leave and come home for her baby’s birth. What if she hadn’t? If she’d stayed in New York, maybe she would never have told her family about Jake, either. “I want to be a father to my son, that’s all.”
“Commendable. How you planning to do that from Madison?”
Peter narrowed his eyes. Jessie’s uncle or not, he wanted to ask the man what business any of this was of his.
Jessie set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of Peter that smelled as good as it looked. “Uncle Harold, can you handle the cash register until Aunt Lou gets here, please?”
Peter glanced to the empty spot where Lisa had stood.
“Where’s Lisa?” Jessie’s uncle asked.
“She’s not feeling well.”
Harold gave a nod. “Morning sickness.”
Busy clearing Harold’s used dishes, Jessie snapped her head around. “Lisa’s pregnant?”
“That’s what Lou says.”
Jessie frowned as if the news was anything but joyful. “But little Denise is only nine months old.”
“Surprises happen, Jess.”
Shaking her head, she hustled away with the dishes.
Peter was surprised by Jessie’s reaction to the news of a baby on the way. The
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