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that,” Jane argued. “Michael gave her at least a few of them.”
    “Maybe,” Caroline said. “But I was the awful one. And because of that, my life—and Mom and Dad’s —was awful. I’d give a lot to be able to go back and change the person I was then.” She sighed wistfully. “Jane, be so glad you weren’t like me. Be glad you didn’t kiss everyone—that you’ve waited this long for—”
    “For what?” Jane asked. “For my own little run-down house? For the opportunity to be the family babysitter? For the privilege of being the subject of Mom and Dad’s fast every month?”
    “No.” Caroline reached across the table and squeezed Jane’s hands. “For a heavenly mansion, children of your own, and a sacred love—like Mom and Dad’s. I know you’ve waited a long time, but don’t ruin it now.” Caroline’s voice grew quiet. “Don’t make the mistakes I made.”
    * * *
    “Bye, sweet boy.” Jane bent over Andrew’s car seat and gave him a quick kiss. She ducked out of the van, and Caroline slid the door closed.
    “Thanks,” Jane said, giving her sister a hug. “This was a lot of fun—like the old days.”
    “I needed it as much as you,” Caroline said as she climbed into the driver’s seat of her minivan. “Remember your promise.”
    “I will.” Jane patted the pocket of her jeans where the ad lay. “I’m going to search for my cereal,” she quipped.
    Caroline started the car and rolled down her window. “Just remember that the sugary stuff may taste good, and it’s fun to find a prize in the box, but it’s the fiber and whole grain that sustain you over time.”
    “That’s what I’m going for,” Jane assured her. “And I’m betting that someone looking for a mother for his children has got to be a Wheaties kind of guy.”
    Caroline shook her head. “Not Wheaties— Life. ” She smiled as she backed out of the driveway. “It’s eternal life you’re after, and don’t settle for anything less.”

Chapter Five
    Paul stifled a yawn and forced his bloodshot eyes to focus on the email on his computer screen. Just send it , he thought, his hand hovering over the mouse. It was after midnight and he’d been sitting here for two hours, trying to write an impossible letter, a ludicrous request to someone unlikely to respond anyway. It had been too long, and it wasn’t as if he were about to apologize—even now. If anything, Pete owed him an apology . With that thought, pride demanded that he pull his hand away, but the arrow remained poised over the send icon.
    I shouldn’t have to do this.
    A sudden, unexpected surge of anger coursed through him as he looked at his wedding photo on the desk. He was furious with Tami, though he knew it was wrong—terrible of him. How dare she leave him to do this alone. How dare she abandon him and their children—two helpless infants, barely hanging onto the brink of life themselves. And what kind of wife dictated who should raise them when she was gone?
    When he was gone too.
    It was a terrible thing Tami had asked of him, and for a moment Paul hated her for it and refused to feel guilty. Guilt would come later, he was certain. The therapist they’d hooked him up with at the hospital had tried to tell him as much.
    Paul took a sip from the soda on his desk and again recalled that awful day—the first of many he’d endured without Tami.
    The counselor had started with, “My name’s Collin. I work here at Swedish, and I’ll be available to help you through the difficulties of the coming weeks.”
    Paul shook Collin’s extended hand and read the words grief counselor below his name on his hospital badge.
    “Here’s a pamphlet I recommend you read.” With his free hand, Collin pulled a paper from his coat pocket. “It lists the stages of grief a person goes through after a traumatic event in his life. As long as you’re moving continuously through these emotions we don’t tend to worry, but if you feel like you’ve become stuck