Chapter One On her knees on the bathroom floor, Hannah Raymond viewed parts of the toilet that were never meant to be seen at such short range. Her stomach rolled and heaved like a tiny canoe being swept down a raging river. The tile felt icy against her knees, yet beads of perspiration moistened her brow. Closing her eyes in an effort to hold back the waves of nausea, Hannah drew in several deep, even breaths. That seemed to help a little, but not enough. "Oh, God," she prayed silently, "please, oh, please, don’t let me be pregnant." No sooner had the words crossed her lips when she lost what little breakfast she’d managed to down that morning. Her monthly period was late. Over two months late. But that could be attributed to the stress she’d been under these past several weeks. The stress and the grief. It had been nearly four months since Jerry’s death. She ached to the bottom of her soul for him, and would, she was convinced, until the end of her life. She’d loved Jerry for six years, had planned her entire life around him. They were to have married soon after the first of the year. Now there would be no wedding because there was no Jerry. Grief caught her once more in a stranglehold of pain and she squeezed her eyes closed, battling the tears, as well as the