"Hi."

"Hi," he echoed.

He looked up at her, waiting to see what she wanted.

Caitlin dropped to the floor beside him.

With a little effort she managed to imitate the position he had

taken.

"I just wanted to look in on you, Jake, to see what you were doing."

"Playing," he replied solemnly.

There was just a touch of disgust in his voice.

Anyone could see what he was doing.

He ignored her and continued playing.

But after a minute he stopped.

It was no use.

The magic was gone from his figures.

He laid them down and slanted a glance at her.

"Are you really going to be my mother?"

"Yes, if you want me to."

She repeated her earlier qualification.

Did he?

It was not unlike walking on a tightrope wearing combat boots.

She had absolutely no feeling if she was still on the wire or off it,

about to plummet to the ground.

She peered at his face.

"Do you?"

The thin shoulders jerked up and then down.

"I don't know."

Yes, he did, she realized.

He was a child hungry for a mother's love.

But something was stopping him.

There was pain etched into the innocent look in his eyes.

"Because if you're my mother, I might like you."

She picked up one of the figures and pretended to examine it.

It was a fierce-looking warrior, the upper part of his body encased in

a pair of eagle's wings.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yeah."

He took the figure from her.

The way, she wondered, that he wanted to take his father from her?

"'Cause then you'll go, just like she did. Celia," he explained.

"My mom left me."

His lower lip protruded in a slight pout that he was trying to

control.

"Oh, honey, I won't-" Something within her hesitated.

Don't make promises you can't keep.

He looked so upset.

Could she promise him she wouldn't leave him when Graham had made it

clear that she would?

But Jake was far too young to understand complex agreements between

adults who had allowed their lives to get so tangled.

He understood only loneliness.

As did she.

Her heart reached out to his.

"I won't leave if you don't want me to."

Doubt still clouded his face, but he looked as if he wanted to believe

her.

Badly.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Caitlin nodded, unable to say anything further because of the lump in

her throat.

She took a breath, steadying herself.

"So it's okay if you want to like me."

She reached out and touched his dark, silky hair, curving her hand

along his face fondly.

"I promise I'll never hurt you."

He looked at her just the way his grandmother had.

Just the way his father did.

As if he could see something that was just beneath the surface.

Something most people couldn't see.

"Okay. I'll think about it."

But the sunny smile that rose to his lips told Caitlin he already had.

And made his decision, as well.

She held up the figure she'd picked up from the floor.

"What's this one called?"

"That's Talking God."

Encouraged by her interest, he picked up the other figure and held it up for her inspection.