Chapter 8

“Too bad you don’t have one,” Chrissy whispered as the two of them peered over the crib at the angel from demon that lay on the worn sheet. “You’re a natural.”

Ian reached for the graying baby blanket and tucked it around Emma’s shoulders. “I’ve always wanted a kid. It’s not in the cards yet, I guess.”

They backed out of the bedroom that, from appearances, served as mom’s room, baby’s room, storage room, and laundry room. “Well, it’s too bad Jordan isn’t interested then. ‘Cuz that guy could sure use the help, let me tell you.”

“Oh?” Ian prompted, in the most unbelievably fake nonchalance he’d ever heard. Even to his own ears, it had been such a desperate sound he might as well have been shouting: “Tell me more!”

“Yeah. Kid’s autistic, you know? Sometimes he’ll get started and nothing short of heaven’s pity will set him straight again.”