Joanne sat next to Lucas, stroking his wet hair while murmuring soft prayers.

For several minutes, nothing broke the quiet except the steady thrum of rain against the vinyl canvas.

My shoulders slumped as a wave of terrible embarrassment and sorrow began washing over me.

Perhaps I had let my desperate grief run wild and dragged my traumatized son through an impossible fantasy.

I looked down at Lucas, wondering how I would ever find the words to heal his broken heart after this false hope crumbled.

Then Lucas suddenly raised his chin toward the tent opening.