Jamie by Lori Foster Page A

paying—or rather, trying to pay—the monthly bills. I was stressed, and Cory kept crying even though I did everything in my power to get her to stop. She wasn’t even six months old yet, and I was so worn out that I thought I’d just die. Then a song came on the radio and I started singing to her, dancing. My brain sort of relaxed. I relaxed. And then... Cory relaxed.”
    Gently placing the ice pack against her leg, Jamie asked, “Don’t most moms sing to their kids?”
    Wow. Faith caught her breath as the cold about stopped her heart. Luckily, his question gave her something else to focus on.
    â€œSure. I sang to her all the time. But this was the first time that I deliberately lightened my own mood. And it worked.”
    â€œSo she felt all this as an infant?”
    â€œAbsolutely. From then on, I paid attention to her mood swings, and they often reflected my own. Whenever something bothered me, rather than dwell on those emotions, I’d think about how much I loved her, how precious she is to me. I counted my blessings instead of looking at the problems.”
    â€œBut the problems were still there.”
    â€œOf course. I just didn’t let them interfere between my daughter and me. I watched the birds out the window, looked at photographs of loved ones. I’d sing and dance, watch cartoons, or read an amusing book. And eventually I figured out how to put one emotion aside to concentrate on another.”
    With one hand, Jamie held the ice pack in place. With the other, he tipped up Faith’s chin. His eyes were dark, probing her thoughts even before he said, “What about lust?”
    The question surprised her so, that Faith blinked twice before croaking, “What?”
    â€œYou’re a grown woman, Faith. I know you’ve felt it. When you dated, when men visited.” He dropped his hand and leaned away from her. “If your daughter knows your feelings, how did she react to that?”
    Faith shook her head. She couldn’t tell Jamie that other than family and the occasional friend, men didn’t visit her. Before finding Jamie again, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt lust.
    â€œShe’s an innocent child. Her concept of feelings doesn’t extend to something like... desire. It’s not in her understanding. She would interpret it another way, maybe as ... I don’t know. An intensity of caring or something.”
    â€œLike wanting coffee?” Jamie asked, and Faith considered smacking him.
    â€œYes, like that. She’d equate it with wanting, but not in a sexual way. Hate, lust, fury, and most other strong, adult emotions aren’t in her repertoire. She’s a child, so the way she interprets things will always be slanted with what she knows.”
    Appearing very dissatisfied with her explanation, Jamie pushed to his feet. “So this special ability of yours is self-taught out of necessity, as part of an altruistic mother’s love?”
    Coming out of nowhere, his sarcasm lashed against Faith. She glared at him. “Yes.”
    â€œIt’s not just a means to dupe me?”
    Throwing up her hands, Faith stressed, “I don’t want to dupe you. I want to help you.”
    â€œSo I can help your daughter in return—but naturally you can’t give me details?”
    Because she couldn’t, Faith shrugged. “That’s about it.”
    Jamie stepped away. “And I’m supposed to take your word on ... faith?”
    â€œDon’t be nasty. This situation is hard enough on us both as it is.”
    â€œFine.”
    Faith thought he let that go too easily, but she wasn’t sure what to say. He went to the counter, poured a cup of coffee, and returned with it, the moonshine, the cloth, and the ointment.
    It was an odd mix, and Faith eyed his approach, asking hopefully, “Is the coffee for me?”
    Jamie glanced at her as he seated himself. “Sure. If