Then there was Robin and the discussions they’d had as newlyweds. She’d wanted to start a family right away, but Jake’s fears had blocked those desires. How could he bring a child into this world, only to leave him or her during its formative years? This is what Jake believed—that even if he had a child, he wouldn’t live to see it grown. His father hadn’t. His favorite uncle hadn’t. His oldest brother, Harold, was nearing fifty and experiencing the same heart problems that had taken out both of those men. At forty-five, the next son, Mike, had experienced a heart scare two years ago. That both of these men were sixty to seventy pounds overweight made little difference to Jake. For the McDonalds, matters of the heart took on a whole different meaning and even though Jake and his twin, Johnny, were the health fanatics, the legacy of heart disease and the havoc it could wreak in a young man’s life were never far from Jake’s thoughts. A couple weeks before the aneurysm, Robin had started bugging him again. “Come on,” she’d whined. “You’ll make a great father.” Jake had agreed to think about it, had begun entertaining the possibility. And then, once again, death had come knocking.

I wish you were my dad.

Jake closed his eyes against the memory, while wondering for the umpteenth time if he should tell Dominique what her son had uttered that day he gave him a ride home after tutoring him. “I’m built like my father,” Jake had told him, when Justin had questioned him about his size. And that’s when Justin had uttered the six words that had imprinted themselves on his mind.

She needs to know, Jake thought as he pulled into the driveway of Dominique’s well-landscaped home. But not tonight. This visit wasn’t about having a discussion. Once Jake got behind Dominique’s closed door once again, he didn’t intend for there to be a whole lot of talking.

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