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“I swear I’m telling the truth,” she said, crossing her heart. “I grew up with a mother who learned to do a lot on her own. She was really good at it, but she would’ve liked having a man to help around the house, especially with anything heavy. I would’ve put up the mini blinds myself, but by the time they arrived, I was a little too pregnant to feel comfortable standing on a ladder, so they had to wait.”

“If you hadn’t helped me, I wouldn’t have picked out the right present for the wedding,” he said cautiously, as if still worried that she might yell at him. “I’m terrible at choosing ties.”

She shifted until she was facing him, then tucked her right leg under her. “If you’re trying to make me feel that we each contribute the same in the helping category, you’re not doing a very good job, but don’t worry about it. I was making an observation, not complaining. You’ve been very kind to me and I appreciate it.”

He eyed her warily, then nodded. “You’re welcome.”

She chuckled. “I mean it. Maybe if I’d grown up with a father in the picture, I would’ve expected this sort of behavior from a man, but for me it’s a new experience. One that I’m enjoying.”

“Okay. I’ll relax.” He took a drink of beer, then glanced at her. “At the risk of starting trouble again, what happened to your dad?”

“He left when I was born. Stayed with my mother until I popped into the world, then he walked out. She never heard from him again.”

Jim frowned. “Ouch. That had to be tough for both of you.”

Heather shrugged. “She always told me she knew it was bound to happen. He wasn’t the kind of man who could deal well with the responsibility of a family. She said that having a wife had been enough trauma for him.” She paused. “I don’t know what to think. I never knew the man, so I try not to make any judgments. My mom was disappointed, but she never hated him. I suppose the hardest thing for me to deal with was the rejection.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“My father walked out the second I was born,” Heather explained. “It’s difficult not to take that personally.”

“But it wasn’t about you—it was about the responsibility of a family. He would have left any child.”

“I know you’re trying to make me feel better. And you’re not saying anything I haven’t already told myself. But it feels like it was about me. I was the only child involved.”

Jim’s blue eyes darkened with empathy. “I’m sorry.”

It was a polite phrase, yet coming from him it made her feel a little better. Probably because she knew he meant it.

“Thanks. It was a long time ago. I’ve gone through stages when I hated him, when I prayed for him to come home. I’ve thought about trying to find him. My mom always said that she would give me what little information she has if I want to hire a detective or something.”

“Did you?”

“No. I never saw the point. The entire time I was growing up he wasn’t interested in me, so why should I be interested in him now? If he came looking, I don’t think I would be that hard to find, but it has to come from him. I’ve made peace with my past.”

Jim took a long swallow of beer, then set the bottle on the coffee table. He faced front, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. “I wish I could do that,” he said grimly.

“What do you mean?”

He gave a quick jerk of his head. “Nothing.” Then he glanced at her and smiled faintly. “I don’t suppose you’re going to believe that, are you?”

“No, but if you really don’t want me to push, I won’t.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said. “My dad walked out on me, too. I was a little older and I don’t think it was about me, but he left all the same.”

Heather pressed her lips together to hold back all her questions. There was so much she wanted to know. Yet something inside of her whispered that Jim had to tell the story at his own pace. So she remained quietly in place on the sofa and waited.

“I guess my parents were happy,” he said at last. “They fought some and then they made up. I remember things being pretty good between them. When I was about eight, my mom was diagnosed with MS. After that, everything changed.”

Heather’s breath seemed to freeze in her throat. “Multiple sclerosis?” she asked in a whisper.

He nodded.

Heather didn’t know what to say. What could she say? An illness like that put a lot of pressure on a family. Jim had been only eight years old. “You must have been scared.”

“I didn’t understand what was happening,” he admitted. “She wasn’t sick like with the flu, but she was having trouble moving around and doing certain things. Hers was the kind that progressed fairly quickly without many remissions. My dad stayed for two years, then, when I was ten, he walked out on us.”

“He left you?” she blurted without thinking. “Just like that? While your mom was sick?”