Yuletide Baby
Deb Kastner
A Christmas SurpriseShawn O'Riley is shocked to find a baby girl abandoned at his church on Christmas Eve. He's a pastor and a cowboy–not a daddy! Haunted by family tragedy, he's not sure he can risk his heart to baby Noelle–or to anyone else. But he needs help. Experienced foster mom Heather Lewis was anticipating a quiet holiday. When Shawn pops up at her door, she's happy to show him the ropes of baby care–but isn't prepared for the way he melts the walls around her heart. Can Shawn and Heather give each other the best Christmas gift of all–family and love?Cowboy Country: Surprise babies lead to unexpected love in Texas
A Christmas Surprise
Shawn O’Riley is shocked to find a baby girl abandoned at his church on Christmas Eve. He’s a pastor and a cowboy—not a daddy! Haunted by family tragedy, he’s not sure he can risk his heart to baby Noelle—or to anyone else. But he needs help. Experienced foster mom Heather Lewis was anticipating a quiet holiday. When Shawn pops up at her door, she’s happy to show him the ropes of baby care—but isn’t prepared for the way he melts the walls around her heart. Can Shawn and Heather give each other the best Christmas gift of all—family and love?
Cowboy Country: Surprise babies lead to unexpected love in Texas
“What are we going to do with an abandoned baby on Christmas Eve?”
“I suppose one of us could drive her to San Antonio,” suggested the police officer who’d come to the scene.
“And do what with her once you get there?” Heather asked.
Shawn thought he detected an edge of panic in her voice and discreetly narrowed his eyes on the local foster mother.
Yes, there it was. She was afraid for this baby. So was Shawn.
“I just can’t help but feel this baby was sent to us, to our town, to this church,” he said.
To me. He wasn’t about to say those words out loud, but he was certainly thinking about them.
“If we’re not going to take Noelle to San Antonio tonight,” the officer said, “then what are we going to do with her?”
Shawn took a deep breath and stepped out onto the high wire, knowing there was no net below him. He stared into the stormy blue-eyed gaze of baby Noelle.
“I’ll take care of her.”
DEB KASTNER
lives and writes in colorful Colorado with the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains for inspiration. She loves writing for Love Inspired Books, where she can write about her two favorite things—faith and love. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and broody heroes. Her plots fall anywhere in between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional. Deb’s books have been twice nominated for the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Book of the Year for Love Inspired. Deb and her husband share their home with their two youngest daughters. Deb is thrilled about the newest member of the family—her first granddaughter, Isabella. What fun to be a granny! Deb loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her by email at DEBWRTR@aol.com, or on her MySpace or Facebook pages.
Yuletide Baby
Deb Kastner
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning,
Great is Your faithfulness,
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
Therefore I hope in Him.
—Lamentations 3:22–24
To Alex and Annie Baer.
May God bless your marriage in every way,
and may your love for one another grow stronger
every day. Love to you both, and Izzie, too!
Contents
Cover (#u79a2f7ea-b186-5f0e-9638-3ebdf73fad84)
Back Cover Text (#uc0a4229f-a865-5faa-b784-4ce7e67bc731)
Introduction (#u17385b33-a2f6-55b5-bd01-02d51691922c)
About the Author (#u9a57f2b5-aac8-5972-9fc2-f73331e252d6)
Title Page (#ub199542d-7e65-5146-a93e-25f4cf9498a3)
Bible Verse (#u0d512815-ba72-5b8c-b22f-3b1fdd2eebc4)
Dedication (#ueff9bbff-932e-59ff-b7f7-2b2d99587427)
Chapter One (#ulink_7bca8195-c412-5855-ad79-f619ea95abc6)
Chapter Two (#ulink_3f4dc727-69f1-5edc-a47c-40949f9a2c0c)
Chapter Three (#ulink_5e793b82-8f78-550f-9f13-733855f8cba4)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_705f9b57-e8d3-5f7f-aa08-a1fea21661cc)
Silent night. Holy night.
Pastor Shawn O’Riley pulled in a deep breath, savoring the rich combination of scents. Poinsettias and evergreens.
Christmas.
He relished the deep peace of the now-empty chapel and was grateful for the blessed evening, although he was equally glad it was finished. Christmas Eve for a pastor could be rather stressful, especially for a simple cowboy preacher who worked on the land for a living and pastored the little church part-time. He’d mended as many literal fences for the neighbors as he had spiritual ones, but he loved every second of it—all of it. Especially, on a night like tonight.
Not many knew of all the behind-the-scenes effort needed to pull the more complicated church services together. The children’s nativity pageant had gone off without a hitch—give or take a few easily distracted preschool-aged angels and a donkey who couldn’t stand still long enough to recite his single line. The parents had loved it and the children had enjoyed performing, and that was all that really mattered to Shawn.
Following that had been the Christmas Eve midnight service, which was one of his favorites, starting with beloved carols and ending in the tranquility of candlelight.
All is calm. All is bright.
And it was. The atmosphere couldn’t be more silent and serene. So why did he have a niggling deep in his gut that something was wrong?
He scoffed softly and shook his head. It had been a long week, between preparing some of his animals for the big stock sale coming just after the first of the year and organizing the Christmas Eve festivities. He was overtired, it was as simple as that. There wasn’t any deeper significance to whatever unease he was feeling. If he had any sense he’d stop standing here straining for sounds that didn’t exist and head back to his ranch so he could get himself to bed where he belonged. Settle in for a long winter’s nap, and all that.
Before heading out, all he had left to do was make sure all the lights were off, the candles blown out and the doors locked, and then he could go home.
Alone. To an empty house.
Was that the real reason he lingered?
It wasn’t the first time he would be spending Christmas Eve on his own, and he was sure that it wouldn’t be his last, but for some reason he was feeling it more than usual. He hadn’t spent Christmas with his family since— Well, he didn’t want to think about that.
He shook his head to unsettle the disturbing sense of melancholy. He wasn’t alone. He might be feeling a little lonely, but the Lord was always with him. God had seen him through many a Christmas past.
With a weary sigh, he flipped all seven switches on the light plate, plunging the vestibule into darkness and leaving only the soft flickering of candles beckoning from the warmth of the sanctuary. He’d forgotten to extinguish them.
Shawn grunted and combed his fingers through the short tips of his reddish-blond hair and ran a hand across the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. Just as well that he had to head back into the sanctuary to take care of the candles. It would give him a moment to refocus and shake this unexpected despondency, remind himself that feelings weren’t everything. God was always his comfort and consolation, whether Shawn could feel Him or not.
The light beckoned him. He removed his cowboy hat from his head as he passed through the familiar arch that marked the entrance to the sanctuary. Reverently, and with a catch in his throat, he approached the altar.
He’d been given so many blessings. His health. A little spread of land he was proud to call his own. His six-year ministry at a chapel he adored in a town full of folks he loved. He hadn’t been born in Serendipity, and yet the community had welcomed him with open arms as one of their own.
He had so much for which to be grateful. How could he possibly complain when many people were blessed with far less?
As he reached the foot of the altar, he knelt, his eyes dropping from the large wooden cross centered on the wall to the straw-stuffed manger the children had used during the pageant. He grinned as he recalled squalling Baby Jesus, Eli and Mary Bishop’s newborn son. The little nipper had squirmed so hard the entire manger—
Something moved within the straw.
Shawn blinked and rubbed his eyes. What was that?
He must be more exhausted than he’d realized. For a moment there he was positive he’d seen—
There it was again.
From the manger. Just the tiniest quiver within the stalks of hay, as if a whisper of a breeze had passed over it.
Only there was no breeze in the chapel.
A shiver ran up his spine as he bolted to his feet and took an involuntary step backward. The candlelight was no help, casting shadows across the walls and floor. His heart hammering in his throat, Shawn approached the crèche.
When he leaned in to see what had caused the disturbance, his eyes widened and his breath tugged.
A baby.
A real-live newborn infant, loosely wrapped—not in swaddling clothes, but in a tattered Dallas Cowboys snug-wrap blanket. As Shawn watched, the infant’s face scrunched as if it were about to break into a wail, but then just as swiftly its expression relaxed back into the peace of sleep.
Adrenaline surged through Shawn, erasing whatever fatigue and anxiety he’d been combating moments before. His mind went into overdrive with a brand-new kind of worry. He was fearful to move, even to breathe.
What was going on here? This couldn’t be happening. Not in this little church, in a small town in the middle of nowhere, and not on Christmas Eve. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, but when he glanced back down at the manger, the baby was still very much present.
Real. Alive. And kicking.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled as his mind raced to take in the facts, what few there were. Where was the baby’s mother? Shawn cast a glance around the sanctuary, but there were no additional movements in the darkness. Somehow, the woman had come and gone without him even knowing she’d ever been.
And she’d left behind the most precious of cargo.
He knew he didn’t have any new or expectant moms in the congregation, other than Mary Bishop. To Shawn’s untrained eye, all newborns looked like Yoda, but he was certain this wasn’t the same little guy who’d played Baby Jesus. He’d watched Eli and Mary pack up their little bundle and exit the church an hour earlier.
Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure the baby presently lying in the manger was a little guy.
The infant’s eyes popped open, revealing an unfocused smoky blue-gray gaze. Shawn reached out a finger and the infant grasped it, pulling his hand toward its tiny mouth. Despite all the tension he was feeling, Shawn couldn’t help but smile softly as he slid his large palm underneath the baby’s head and tenderly scooped it into his arms. Babies were blessings from God, plain and simple.
Only, in this case, the plain and simple part of it was a little more complicated. He hoped he was doing this “cradling the baby” thing right. He was hardly an expert on the subject. He was supposed to support the baby’s head and neck—that much he remembered from christenings. With this little one, it wasn’t hard to do. The infant was so tiny it almost fit into one of his large palms.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he murmured gently to the whimpering infant. He rocked on the heels of his boots. “It’s okay, little one. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
He frowned. That wasn’t exactly right. Not that the baby could understand his words, but he was hardly in a position to make a promise like that. There wasn’t one single thing about this situation that was okay.
Where was the mother now? How had she gotten into the church and back out again without anyone noticing her? Had she disappeared for good, or was she lingering around somewhere to make sure her baby was well cared for? Had she picked this chapel for a reason, out of all the places she could have taken the child?
And maybe the most pressing question of all—what was he supposed to do with an abandoned baby on Christmas Eve?
If he wasn’t mistaken, there were safe-haven laws in Texas to deal with the issue of child abandonment, but Shawn didn’t know the exact details. Would a church even be considered an acceptable drop-off point in such a situation? Perhaps allowances could be made, since the nearest hospital was over an hour away? And speaking of hospitals, he should call Delia Bowden, the town doctor, who would no doubt want to check the baby’s health. Also, he would need to call the police immediately, to report what could potentially be considered a crime.
He forced a breath through his lungs. He had people who’d help him through this. That was a good thing. But the question remained—whom should he call first? No matter how he tried to reason around it, he couldn’t get over the fact that whatever motivations had compelled the woman to commit such an act, the distressed mother had chosen to leave her precious baby here, in this church, and not at the police station or firehouse as she might have done.
A myriad of emotions pressed upon him and he struggled to work them out, to untie the knots in his chest. There had to be a reason the baby was here. God didn’t make mistakes, and though it seemed incomprehensible to Shawn, it was abundantly clear to him that he was meant to find this child.
But why?
Threading his fingers through his hair, he murmured a frantic prayer for guidance under his breath. What would the Lord have him do?
Jo Spencer. Owner of Cup O’ Jo Café and second mother to half the town, she had a word of advice to give for any situation under the sun. She’d been a good listening ear and friendly adviser to him in the past.
It was a decision, at least, and a good one, at that. He sighed in relief.
Jo would know what to do in his hour of need. She was the resident expert on everything—and everyone. Shawn was reluctant to wake her at this time of night, but he knew she would want to be part of this. At the very least, she’d help him think through his options, and she’d definitely know who else to call in as reinforcements. She quite literally knew everyone in town. She might even have an idea who the mother was. If there were any women outside the church’s parish who might be pregnant and close to delivery, Jo would know about them.
Shawn’s heart ached for the woman who was desperate enough to leave her infant at a church on Christmas Eve. She must be feeling such a deep sense of anguish. No doubt her circumstances, whatever they were, had been dire.
He shifted and wrinkled his nose as an odd, pungent odor assaulted him.
“Yes, little person,” he said, addressing the baby. “We need to call in the cavalry.”
Along with everything else, Jo Spencer would know how to change a diaper.
He curled the infant into one arm and fished for his cell phone in the pocket of his black slacks. Fortunately, Jo was an active member of the faith community, and her number was on speed dial.
After several rings, a gravelly, sleep-muted male voice answered.
“This’d better be good.” Jo’s husband, Frank, was gruff on the best of occasions, and Shawn highly doubted that being dragged from a dead sleep even remotely qualified for that category.
“So sorry to wake you, Frank, but I’ve got a bit of an emergency here. This is Pastor Shawn, by the way.”
“Yeah, I figured. When Jo’s new-fangled cell phone rang, your picture came up on the screen.”
One corner of Shawn’s mouth rose. He heard a crackle and a thump on the other end of the line.
“Emergency, you said?” Jo didn’t even sound sleepy, though he knew he’d wakened her from the same state that had Frank so grumpy. “What can I do for you, Pastor?”
Shawn released the breath he’d been holding, relief rippling through his muscles as he continued to jiggle his arm to keep the gurgling infant happy.
“I have a baby,” he blurted.
“Oh. I...” It was unusual for Jo to stammer. He’d clearly caught her off guard, and no wonder. “Are congratulations in order?”
“What?” Of all the things he expected Jo to say, that wasn’t it. “No. I mean— It’s not my baby.”
Jo let out a big guffaw. Shawn wondered how anyone could sound so gleeful in the middle of the night.
“Well, young man, you’ll pardon me for sayin’ I’m relieved to hear it. Not that you wouldn’t make a wonderful father, mind.”
“Thank you for that,” he responded, chuckling under his breath. “But I do have a problem. That baby I mentioned—I have it right here. At the church. I think someone abandoned it.” He hated calling the baby an it, but he thought calling Jo was more expedient than taking the time to check to see if it was a boy or a girl.
“Oh, my stars,” Jo exclaimed. “An abandoned baby? Well, why didn’t you say so to begin with?”
Shawn grimaced and the baby startled, wagging his or her little arms in the air and breaking into a weak wail.
“I hear the dear little sweetheart. Is it a boy or a girl?”
Shawn shifted the wiggling bundle to his shoulder and bounced softly on his toes. “I don’t know. I haven’t checked yet. I called you first.”
“And that was exactly the right thing for you to do, my dear. I’ll be over faster than you can say Jack Washington. We’ll figure it out together, you and I. I do believe I’ll also get on the horn with Heather Lewis and see if she can come out and help us.”
“Heather Lewis?”
“She’s a local foster parent. I imagine she’ll be able to give us some perspective on the situation.”
With an inaudible sigh, Shawn crooked the phone against his shoulder so he could pat the infant on the back. Jo had no idea how very much he needed to hear that help was on its way. What he knew about babies was quite literally limited to the christenings he performed. He didn’t have any children of his own, nor did he have nieces or nephews. He’d never actually had to care for a baby before, especially not in the plethora of ways he imagined this little one would need.
Apprehension shot through him like a bolt of electricity, crackling and exploding along every one of his nerve endings. He wasn’t qualified to be in charge of a child. He hadn’t even been successful watching an older kid, much less a newborn. He closed his eyes and saw his younger brother David’s face, red and sweating, his palms pressed against the glass of the car door and his mouth open in a silent scream.
No. Not now.
Pain stabbed through his gut, and he opened his eyes wide, gasping for air.
Please, Lord, let Jo come quickly.
“I can’t tell you what this means to me. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.” And then some.
“No need to thank me, son. That’s what I’m here for—helpin’ people as the Lord sees fit to use me.” He knew she told the truth. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night or Christmas Eve. Jo was happy to be everyone’s go-to woman.
“Hey, Jo?” he asked when the infant’s face once again scrunched, turning from peach to red to an alarming shade of purple.
“Yes, dear?”
“You think you could possibly rustle up a clean diaper while you’re at it?”
Jo chuckled. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll bring supplies. We’re going to manage just fine. Mark my words—everything is going to work out. For all of us.”
What Shawn wouldn’t give to have Jo’s faith right now. He wasn’t quite so certain about how things were going to work out, particularly for this precious child. All he knew for sure was that this long night was about to get longer.
* * *
Persistent pounding drew Heather Lewis from sleep so deep that she thought she was dreaming the noise—or that perhaps the pounding was just the headache that had set in earlier. She groaned and rolled over, covering her head with her feather pillow. With all the excitement of Christmas Eve, she hadn’t managed to get her little brood to bed until late. Exhaustion weighed down every bone and muscle in her body.
Though muted by her pillow, the hammering continued. Rap, rap, rap. Pause. Rap, rap, rap.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright, adrenaline pumping through her veins and bringing her to instant alertness as she thrashed around, trying to release her legs from the blanket she was caught up in.
She wasn’t dreaming about those sharp knocks. They were real. Her mind shrieked in terror.
Run. Hide.
She clutched the neck of her flannel pajamas as her pulse raged through her, her nerve endings screaming and shattering.
Adrian.
No. She shook her sleep-muddled head. Not Adrian.
Adrian was in prison in Colorado, and he had been for years. She had recently returned to her hometown in Serendipity, Texas—far, far away from the nightmare she’d once lived. She was safe.
She tucked her forehead against her knees and gulped for air, a sob of relief escaping her lips.
She was okay. She was okay.
She repeated the mantra even as the pounding on the door resumed.
“Heather?” The voice coming from the other side of the door was a woman’s, and though she sounded urgent, there wasn’t an ounce of threat in her tone.
Heather rolled to her feet and padded to the front door, taking a quick glance through the peephole for final reassurance before opening up.
“Jo?” she asked, surprised to see the boisterous owner of the local café on her doorstep in the middle of the night. “What’s wrong?”
“I tried calling but you didn’t pick up.”
“I’m sorry. I mute my phone at night so it won’t wake up the little ones.” She pressed Jo’s wringing hands. Something had to be seriously wrong for Jo to be here this late, and on Christmas Eve, to boot. “Do you want to come in?”
“Thank you, dear.” Jo followed Heather inside. “I hate to impose on you, especially at this hour, but I’m in desperate need of your assistance.”
“Sure. Anything. Whatever you need.” Heather didn’t hesitate. Growing up in Serendipity, she’d spent many happy hours at Cup O’ Jo Café, leaning on the advice of the ever-wise Jo Spencer. Heather couldn’t imagine why Jo needed her help, but it was a given that she’d do anything she could.
“A baby has been abandoned at the church. Pastor Shawn is quite flabbergasted by the event, as well you can imagine. Seeing as we don’t have a social worker here in town, I figured you were the next best thing, being a foster mother and all. You’ll come with me to see to the little one, won’t you? I already phoned your next-door neighbor, and she’ll be here shortly to make sure your kiddos are looked after while you’re gone.”
“We’re going to the chapel?” Heather was truly ready to do anything—except that. The shiver that overtook her rocked her to the very core. She hadn’t stepped through the door of a church in years, and she never wanted to do so again. Not for as long as she lived. Her stomach lurched with the thought, and the fear was paralyzing.
She opened her mouth to decline, but closed it without speaking, rubbing her lips together as she considered her options. There was a sweet, innocent baby to think about. She’d made a promise to herself that if she was presented with the opportunity, she’d be there for any and all children in need.
But this? She squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed her trepidation, searching for her resolve.
“Give me a minute to get dressed,” she said to Jo before walking back to the bedroom. She needed the time, not just to change clothes, but to decide if she was really up to this.
She slipped into jeans and a blue cotton pullover and stooped to lace her sneakers, her mind still in turmoil.
Could she do it? Would she be able to overcome years of terror and defensiveness to help the little one?
For the baby’s sake, she had to try.
Once her next-door neighbor had arrived to watch the children, Heather and Jo set off. The drive from Heather’s house to the chapel was only a few short minutes, but to Heather the distance seemed agonizingly long. Jo bustled out of her old truck the moment she parked it. Heather held back, clutching her hands together in her lap as she gathered her courage. After what felt like an hour but was probably no more than a few seconds, she forced herself to exit the vehicle. A wave of dizziness immediately overtook her and she grasped at the rim of the truck to keep her balance.
Air in. Air out, she coaxed herself. When these panic attacks hit, her breath came in shallow gasps and she hyperventilated, resulting in the light-headedness she was now experiencing. She was so...angry that she couldn’t control her reactions. It was embarrassing. Humiliating.
“Heather, are you coming?” Jo had made it up to the chapel’s red double doors before she glanced back and realized Heather wasn’t following her. The old red-headed woman’s face instantly crumpled with concern. “What is it, dear?”
Suppressing a shiver, Heather straightened her shoulders and picked up the box of baby paraphernalia from the back of Jo’s truck.
She forced a smile. “I’m sorry I’m being so slow. Don’t worry. I’ll be in right behind you.”
While in essence, that was true, emotionally, Heather was lagging, and she was painfully aware of why.
The chapel is just a building, she scolded herself sternly. If anything, this particular chapel was a place of happy childhood memories. But she couldn’t seem to separate the structure from the experiences in her past. The thought of church—any church—was tainted by the thought of Adrian, who had been a beloved and highly respected deacon. No one had realized that it had all been one big lie.
This guy isn’t Adrian.
Truthfully, she didn’t know anything about the pastor she was here to assist. There was no reason for her to believe Shawn O’Riley would be in any way similar to Adrian, other than being a part of the active leadership of a church. It was wrong to judge all men on a single man’s faults, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. In her experience, men said one thing and did another. And what they did was bad. It was bad. All of her self-preserving instincts were screaming at her to run fast and far away from this situation.
She knew it wasn’t logical. This place, Serendipity’s little white chapel, was the church she’d grown up in, a place of warm memories and happy times. It was where she’d first learned to sing “Jesus Loves Me,” where she’d been told she was His little lamb and that if she became lost, He would cheerfully leave all of His other sheep to come and find her.
Only, when she’d become lost, no one had come to find her, not even the Lord.
And that was just one more grudge to hold against Adrian—one more way in which he’d hurt her. This place, that used to stand for security and love, now just made her anxious and uncomfortable. There was no safety to be found here. Not for her. Nor was there a chance of trust on her part to be given to any man who had a hand in running it. Just the thought of meeting the pastor made her stomach twist.
If she had a lick of sense she’d turn right around and go home. This wasn’t her battle.
If it weren’t for this baby...
But there was a baby. That infant made it her battle. She’d promised Jo she would help, and that alone would have been enough to keep her walking forward. But more than that, she’d made a personal vow that she would help children in need wherever and whenever she found them. She couldn’t make up for what Adrian had done—and she could never fully forgive herself for what she had stepped aside and allowed him to do—but maybe, just maybe, she could help someone else’s child, like this tiny gift of humanity who had apparently been horribly abandoned by the very people who should have loved him or her the most.
She’d help the baby, she’d do whatever Jo needed her to do—and then she’d leave the chapel, and the pastor she had no interest in knowing, behind.
As she entered the church and was greeted by Pastor Shawn, it was all she could do not to recoil from his handshake. Oh, he appeared pleasant enough with his Irish good looks—reddish-blond hair, a kind expression on his face and laugh lines fanning from his light blue eyes. Both his gaze and his smile were welcoming. He was obviously relieved that support had arrived. But Heather knew how easy it was for a man to put on a mask for the world and hide his true nature. A charming smile no longer had the capacity to fool her. Especially not on a preacher.
“Jo. Ma’am.” He tipped his head toward Heather. “Thank you both for coming in the middle of the night.”
“This is Heather Lewis,” Jo said by way of introduction. “She’s our resident expert, seeing as she has a house full of foster children. She also has a professional background in child care, which I suspect will be invaluable to us.”
As small as Serendipity was, Pastor Shawn had probably heard her name, just as she knew his, but up until now they’d had no reason to cross paths. He wasn’t a native of Serendipity and had become the pastor of the small congregation a couple years after Heather had left town for college, where she’d met and eventually married Adrian. And she’d certainly never even remotely considered darkening the door of his church upon her return.
“Thank you, thank you. I’m happy for any help I can get. I couldn’t believe it when I found— Well, here. Come with me and I’ll show you.”
Shawn’s stride was long and confident as he led them up the sanctuary aisle to where a life-size crèche beckoned. Heather’s heart leaped when she saw the tiny infant lying in the manger, swaddled in what looked to be a tattered football blanket. She wondered if the baby had been left that way by the mother, or if the blanket was Shawn’s touch.
“Oh, the poor little dear,” Jo exclaimed, wasting no time in scooping the baby into her arms.
“He fell asleep, so I placed him back in the manger. Or her—I don’t really know yet. It seemed like a safe spot, as close to a crib as I have available. As you can see, I’m way out of my league here.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine how you felt when you discovered the babe,” Jo agreed, kissing the now-squirming infant’s forehead. “And this is how you found him? Er—her? All wrapped up in this blanket?” Jo turned and thrust the baby toward Heather. “Heather, dear, can you help me get this poor little thing’s diaper changed and get the boy/girl thing settled for us? I am already weary of referring to him/her in a double-gender fashion.”
Heather accepted the infant and sat down on the front pew to change the child. It wasn’t the most ideal of conditions, but at this point the baby’s needs and comfort were more important than the propriety of the church setting.
“It’s a girl,” she informed them as she reswaddled the infant, this time in a soft, clean pink receiving blanket she’d brought along in her stash of baby things, leftovers from her previous career as a day-care provider.
“A girl,” Shawn repeated, his gaze tender and his voice full of wonder. “How about that?” From the bemused expression on his face and the way his warm voice dipped in awe, she might have thought he’d never seen a newborn baby before. Maybe it was just the shock of the situation that had thrown him.
“The poor mother,” Jo breathed, placing an empathetic hand over her heart. “I can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now, to have abandoned her own flesh and blood on Christmas Eve, of all times. What kind of circumstances must she be under to prompt her to such an action?”
Heather bit the inside of her lip until she tasted copper. She could easily imagine such a situation—any number of them, actually.
“I agree,” Shawn said in a low whisper so as not to startle the baby. “I was thinking the same thing. It’s awful even to consider.”
“It’s the infant we need to worry about right now,” Heather stated, her tone threaded with pain. “That’s what the mother would have wanted.” She believed the baby’s mother had taken this drastic step for the sake of her child, and her heart flooded with compassion for both. She could do no less for the unknown woman than to make sure her baby was safe and well cared for.
Shawn’s eyes slid to her, then shifted back to the infant. His gaze softened as he stared down at the tiny bundle. “Yes, of course.”
Heather rummaged through the box of supplies and produced a bottle of formula she’d mixed together before leaving the house. While she didn’t have any infants in her care currently, she’d never managed to get off the formula-makers’ sample lists, and she was now glad of it, for the expiration date had not yet passed. “Getting her changed and fed is a good first step, but it’s not going to solve the real problem.”
Shawn brushed his palm over his jaw, which was taut with strain. “Right. We need to call in the appropriate authorities and decide what needs to happen next. I’ll phone the police station first, and then we’d probably better get Delia Bowden on the line to make sure the poor little thing doesn’t have any pressing medical problems.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “What a mess. I really hate having to disturb everyone in the middle of the night, especially on Christmas Eve.”
“It can’t be helped, dear,” Jo reminded him. “I don’t think it’s anything we can wait on. The police will probably want to start looking for the baby’s mother sooner rather than later. She hasn’t had that long to have gotten out of town. We don’t know anything about her circumstances—she might be injured. And while she looks fine to me, we can’t assume sweet Baby Girl here is healthy until Dr. Delia has had the opportunity to look her over.”
Shawn’s gaze narrowed and his lips tightened into a straight line. “If you ladies will stay with the baby, I’ll make the calls.”
He stepped out of the sanctuary, and Jo slid into the pew next to Heather, holding her arms out for the baby. Heather gently transferred the fragile bundle into the older woman’s arms.
“What’s your take on all this?” Jo murmured.
Heather shivered, masking it as a shrug. “I can’t begin to guess. I feel in my gut that something truly terrible must have happened. It’s got to be just horrible for the mother, whoever she is. Wherever she is.”
“When Shawn returns we should all say a prayer for her,” Jo stated with a firm nod that sent her red curls bouncing.
“Mmm.” Heather acknowledged Jo’s suggestion without agreeing to it. Jo Spencer was a woman of faith, and they were in a church, after all, so Heather supposed it only made sense that prayer would be part of the equation. It wasn’t that she had anything against prayer, per se, but it seemed to her like an exercise in futility. Her prayers—not that she’d said many of them lately—seemed as if they bounced off the ceiling and came right back at her. They were certainly never answered.
“I know the police will want to look for her, but I have a feeling she’s not of a mind to be found. Chances are she’s out of Serendipity by now, though she couldn’t have gotten far. Or possibly she’s in hiding.”
Shawn approached, sliding his cell phone into the chest pocket of his shirt. Heather didn’t know how long he’d been listening, but he’d clearly caught Jo’s last statement, at the very least. “Can either of you hazard a guess as to who the mother might be? I’m fairly certain it’s no one here at the parish.”
Heather shook her head. She’d only been back in Serendipity for a few months, and the truth was, she hadn’t been overly social during that time. She preferred to spend all her time taking care of her three foster children, attending the older boy’s sports games, mentoring her little girl’s second-grade class in reading and volunteering for the preschool library day with little Henry. She’d crossed paths with some old friends at the grocery store or the gas station, but she made sure the chats were brief, and any plans to “get together and catch up” were kept deliberately vague. Frankly, she didn’t have much time or use for adult company.
She glanced at Jo for the answer to Shawn’s question, expecting that she would know something, but to her surprise, the older woman was likewise shaking her head.
“It’s the strangest thing,” Jo conceded. “I’m not aware of any women in the area who are bursting at the seams to be delivering a precious little bundle of joy—inside or outside the parish.”
“So probably not a local, then.” Shawn crouched before Jo and wiggled his fingers in front of the baby. The infant grasped his forefinger and pulled it toward her mouth. “She’s a strong little thing. A real fighter.”
“From the looks of things, she’s going to have to be,” Jo responded soberly. Both Shawn and Heather agreed with a nod.
Heather’s heart physically ached for the baby girl. So sweet. So helpless. The world was harsh even to the tiniest and most innocent of God’s creatures.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
“So what’s next?” Heather asked, clasping her hands in her lap. She wanted to scream and rail at the air with her fists, but she knew that wouldn’t serve any purpose. It wouldn’t make her feel better in the long run, and it certainly wouldn’t help the baby.
“I just got off the phone with Captain James. He’s sending Slade and Brody over to meet with us and give us their take on the situation. They should be here any minute now. Oh, and Delia is on her way, as well. She’ll be able to give us a better idea if Baby Girl here needs special medical attention.”
They didn’t have long to wait—one of the blessings of living in a small town. Less than five minutes later, police officers Brody Beckett and Slade McKenna arrived in rumpled uniforms and with sleep-tousled hair. Though they were similar in build, both with the muscular stature of weekend bull riders, Brody was as blond as Slade was dark. Yet their half-asleep expressions matched perfectly. The police station in Serendipity on Christmas Eve was minimally staffed, and Heather guessed the two men were on-call rather than on duty and had been wakened to take this request.
Delia arrived immediately on their heels and went right to work on the baby, fussing over the infant while she checked her with her stethoscope, took her temperature, got her weight with the infant scale she’d brought and looked at her eyes and ears.
“My guess is that she’s about three days old,” Delia said, looping her stethoscope around her neck. “Eighteen inches and six and a half pounds. Someone’s taken adequate care of her and she’s not malnourished, although we’ll need to keep a close eye on her weight to make sure she doesn’t lose any more.”
“Did the mother leave anything else behind?” Slade asked, directing his question to Shawn. “A note, maybe? Something that might clue us in as to why she left her baby in a church?”
Shawn frowned. “I don’t think so, other than that tattered Cowboys blanket I found her wrapped in.” He gestured toward the altar. “She was in the manger, all alone. It completely freaked me out. I’m sorry. It didn’t even occur to me to look around. All I could think about was what I was going to do with the baby.”
“That’s understandable, and probably just as well,” Brody assured him as he and Slade moved toward the crèche. “It may be better that the area was untouched until we got here to investigate.”
“Are you considering this to be a crime scene?” Heather asked, shock skittering through her. How could they even think such a thing? Anger welled in her chest. The mother of this baby, whoever she was, needed someone’s compassion and assistance, not condemnation and a jail sentence.
Slade glanced her direction. “No. Not yet, anyway, though it’s always a possibility. Abandoning a child is a felony in the state of Texas. But we’re reserving judgment until we can piece together what really happened here.”
“What about safe-haven laws?” Jo asked. “Isn’t there anything in the law to protect the mother if it turns out that she can’t keep her child?”
“Technically, Serendipity doesn’t have an official drop site for a safe haven,” Brody explained, his jaw tightening. “We’re just too small. We don’t have a hospital. An argument could be made that the fire station might be considered an alternative, but even that’s kind of iffy.”
“Add to that the fact that the mother might not have known what the laws were, or she may not have been in a reasonable state of mind to be able to sort all that out,” Heather pointed out, feeling a need to champion the unknown woman. Delia had been holding the infant, but now Heather reached for her, coveting the comforting feeling of the baby in her arms. “She could have been thinking only of the baby’s safety. We don’t know what circumstances she’s facing. Maybe she’s poor and can’t feed the little darling. Maybe she was being chased by someone. Or she could be in an abusive relationship.”
Heather’s throat tightened around the words and her stomach lurched at the thought. She struggled for a breath as drops of cold sweat broke out on her forehead.
“Any of that could be true,” Slade agreed. “Then again, she could be a hopped-up crackhead who doesn’t even care that she’s dumped her baby into a stranger’s hands.”
“At a church,” Shawn reminded him gravely. “The mother left her child at a church. Surely that tells us something—it suggests the woman was cognizant of her baby’s needs, that she wanted the best for her. She could have abandoned the baby anywhere. I’ve heard horrible stories of babies left in Dumpsters or parking lots. That’s not what happened in this case. The fact that the mother chose to leave the child here—on Christmas Eve, no less—must mean that she was appealing to our Christian duty to step in and help. Right?”
Heather was surprised to receive help from that quarter. Pastor Shawn was sticking up for the absent mother?
“We shouldn’t speculate until we’ve gathered the facts,” Slade conceded. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“I think I’ve found something.” All eyes turned to Brody, who was crouched next to the manger, sifting through the straw. He withdrew his gloved hand to present a small bundle tied with a dirty red strip of cloth, a seam that looked as if it had been ripped from the bottom of a cotton shirt.
“What is it?” Jo asked as they gathered around.
Brody shifted from a crouch to his knees and set the small bundle on the floor in front of him. Gingerly, he worked the knot in the cloth until it loosened.
“There’s a bit of cash here,” Slade said, sifting the contents. “And a crumpled piece of paper. Maybe it’s a note?” He dropped it into an evidence bag.
“Can you use fingerprints from the letter to identify the woman?” Shawn asked, moving closer to Slade.
“It’s a possibility, but not a great one. If the mom has a criminal record—maybe.”
The men appeared to be more interested in the money as Brody rifled through the bills. Heather’s attention was on the scrap of paper within the clear plastic evidence bag Jo plucked away from Slade. Heather, Delia and Jo all hovered over the mysterious missive.
“What does it say?” Heather asked, scooting closer to Jo as the older woman carefully handled the evidence bag. Heather’s breath caught and held when she laid eyes on the delicate handwriting within the letter. The loops and curls were carefully formed and ornamented, so much so that Heather had the distinct, immediate impression of youth.
“I think we may be dealing with a teen mom,” she speculated aloud.
Jo met her gaze, her eyes warm with a mixture of compassion and sorrow. “Unfortunately, I think you might be right, dear. Though for the life of me I still can’t place any woman in Serendipity who looked to be in the family way, most especially a young lady. Teenage girls these days keep themselves so blooming skinny. I feel sure I would have noticed if one of them had been expecting.”
Heather laid a reassuring hand on Jo’s arm. From the tone of the older woman’s voice, Heather could tell Jo was taking a good deal of the responsibility for the abandoned baby upon herself. The townspeople often joked that Jo was the first to know everybody’s business. In this case, she was clearly calling herself to task for not knowing, likely believing that she could have helped the mother if she’d been attentive enough to spot the situation in time. Heather saw no reason for Jo to take any of the blame.
“It may very well be that you don’t know her at all. It seems to me that, given the circumstances, it’s far more likely that the mother wasn’t a local.”
“Serendipity is hardly the kind of place one just passes through, especially a teenage girl on her own. And on Christmas Eve, no less. This town is miles away from anywhere significant.”
“If she is a stranger, somebody here is bound to have seen her. Or maybe there’s a clue in the note.”
Jo nodded and held up the missive, adjusting the range to support the farsightedness that came with age. “Wish I had my reading glasses with me,” she mumbled, then cleared her throat and began reading aloud. “‘Please take care of my baby. She is not safe with me. Her father must never find out I had her. This money is all I have to give.’”
The note was not signed, but there was a hastily scribbled postscript at the bottom of the letter that caught Heather’s attention. “‘P.S. Her name is Noelle.’”
The men approached just in time to hear the baby’s name. Shawn smiled and reached out to brush the palm of his hand over the baby’s silky black hair. “It’s beautiful. A Christmas name for a Christmas baby.”
Heather stiffened. Shawn was close enough that she could smell his spicy aftershave, and though he didn’t actually touch her, she knew his palm fell just short of the small of her back as he leaned over to murmur nonsense syllables to Noelle.
“Any clues as to the mother’s identity or whereabouts in the note?” Brody asked, leaning forward to see for himself.
Jo shook her head and handed the evidence back to the officer. “Nothing definitive. Heather and I are guessing she’s a young mother and not local.”
“It sounds like she is running away from the baby’s father,” Heather added, then hesitated. That wasn’t quite right. She, of all people, knew how difficult it was to break free from an abuser’s hold on her life. “Or maybe she’s staying with him and she’s just trying to protect the baby from him,” she amended hastily.
“In any case, she’s made it perfectly clear that she’s not coming back for little Noelle, at least not at present. I think we can work off the assumption that she’s gone.” Slade frowned, his brow creasing.
Heather was glad that baby Noelle had so many people here concerned about her future, folks who Heather knew would help this child get a running start at life. That was more than many others had.
“There’s roughly thirty-five dollars here, mostly ones,” Slade informed them, holding out the crumpled wad of cash. “It’s not going to get the child very far.”
Heather sniffed as tears burned in her eyes. The sound evidently caught Shawn’s attention, for he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and his compassionate blue eyes flashed to hers. Their gazes locked for a moment and he seemed to be probing her thoughts and measuring her feelings, all without speaking a word. She shuddered and physically jerked from him, refusing to be taken in by whatever kindness he was showing her.
This wasn’t the time to think of herself, or about Shawn. The baby needed all of their attention. “I believe that was all that the mother had to give.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_27fd1065-1a56-5bab-aa6c-9c6bdc79c2f0)
All that the mother had to give.
Shawn acknowledged that Heather was probably correct, and his chest squeezed with sympathy. He anxiously wondered where the mysterious young mother was and what she must have been feeling to leave her precious baby in the care of strangers.
He would make this right. He had to. Although he couldn’t fathom a reason for it, God must have His reasons for depositing the baby into Shawn’s care. He could do no less than follow this thing through to the end. It didn’t matter that he had no training in infant care or that he hardly even knew which end of a bottle was up. God willing, he’d figure it out.
He’d been having a running conversation with God ever since the moment he’d first seen the small movement in the hay, and he wasn’t about to stop praying now, not when he was facing the possibility of walking a tightrope with no safety net underneath him.
“So the question remains,” he said, knowing even before he asked that he was committing himself to something far beyond his scope of expertise. “What are we going to do with an abandoned baby on Christmas Eve?”
“I suppose one of us could drive her into San Antonio, if we can rustle up an infant car seat somewhere,” suggested Brody, although with the catch in his voice, he didn’t sound particularly warm to the idea.
“And do what with her once you get there?”
Shawn thought he detected an edge of panic in Heather’s voice and discreetly narrowed his eyes on her.
Yes, there it was. The flare in the black irises of her eyes, which were surrounded by a beautiful hazel color. She was afraid for this baby. So was Shawn. They all were. Every person in the room knew what taking Noelle to San Antonio in the middle of the night on a holiday would mean—dropping her into the inhospitable hands of an aloof system where she would have no one to be her personal advocate.
But Noelle had an advocate. Shawn.
“Do we have a legal obligation to make a permanent decision about her situation tonight?” Shawn piped up. Maybe with a little time they could figure out a better plan.
Slade raised his dark eyebrows. “Well, eventually we’ll have to report her to the proper authorities. Texas social services will want to know about her. But that does not necessarily have to happen tonight. If I’m not mistaken, we have somewhere around one business day to bring her to the attention of the state. The fact that it’s Christmas Eve works in our favor, if you’re wanting to hold off a bit. Is that what you want? And if you don’t mind my asking, why? What do you have in mind?”
“Yes, dear,” Jo urged, patting Shawn’s forearm. “Tell us—what’s your plan?”
“I’m not— That is, I don’t have a plan. I just can’t help but feel this baby was sent to us, to our town, to this church.”
To me. He wasn’t about to say those words out loud, but he was certainly thinking about them.
“I agree,” said Jo. “We know our good Lord. He doesn’t make mistakes. Somehow this baby is part of His good and perfect gift to us.”
“Amen to that,” Delia agreed, adjusting the stethoscope draped around her neck.
Shawn’s heart welled even as his stomach tightened. Jo had the extraordinary ability to see the good in everything and everyone, along with the uncanny ability to be able to remind others of God’s hand in their life circumstances.
But how could an abandoned baby be a gift from God?
Shawn acknowledged in his heart that the Lord could turn even the worst of circumstances into blessings, but he was struggling to wrap his mind around it. Whatever God had planned for them and for this child, it was beyond his ability to see.
“If we’re not going to take Noelle to San Antonio tonight,” Slade said, his even tone indicating the statement was a fact and not so much a question, “then what are we going to do with her?”
Shawn took a deep breath and stepped out onto the wire, knowing there was no net below him. If he looked down he knew he would take a mental nosedive, so instead he stared into the stormy blue-eyed gaze of baby Noelle.
“I’ll take care of her.”
* * *
Shawn taking baby Noelle overnight sounded like a reasonable enough plan, at least until four o’clock in the morning came and went and he hadn’t gotten a single moment of sleep. The small gathering of neighbors had loaded him up with suggestions on baby care, wished him well and then gone home to catch a few hours of shut-eye before Christmas morning dawned, where they would celebrate with their own families.
Shawn had mistakenly thought he had everything under control. How hard could it be, really?
Ha! The joke was on him. The Lord certainly had a sense of humor.
He groaned and smothered a yawn. Instead of enjoying a happy snooze with sugarplums dancing in his head as he would have done if he’d gone home alone, he was pacing the hallway with an unappeasably fussy baby.
Holding her close to his heart, he gently patted her back in a slow, steady rhythm. The little bundle of joy wasn’t the least bit happy, and he hadn’t a clue what to do for her. He wished he knew what was wrong so he could fix the problem.
After a bottle of formula and a diaper change, Noelle had initially drifted off to sleep. Shawn had thrown together a makeshift bassinet from a shallow plastic bin and some blankets and placed it by the side of his own bed. All was calm—and bright.
For about five seconds.
No sooner had he laid his head on the pillow than Noelle started to wail. And wow, but the kid had a pair of lungs.
He shuffled through his mental list. Diaper changed. Warm bottle. Patting her back to help her remove any lingering bubbles in her tummy. Swaddled. Multiple attempts at a pacifier, although he’d qualified that as a fail, since he couldn’t even get the baby girl to keep it in her mouth.
Nothing seemed to work. If anything, the more attention he paid to Noelle, the harder she cried, and now she was making little hic sounds when she breathed. He was afraid she was hyperventilating.
Could babies hyperventilate? It frightened him that he didn’t even know the answer to that question.
What if she passed out? What if something was seriously the matter with her? Had Dr. Delia missed something critical when she’d examined the baby?
Noelle scrunched up her tiny face and sneezed. Shawn reached for his cell phone, then stopped and shook his head, laughing at how easily flustered he was getting.
Who was he going to call? Emergency services? And say what?
Hello, can you help me? My baby just sneezed!
“I’m overreacting, aren’t I, little darlin’?” he murmured to Noelle. Her face relaxed, and she quieted, appearing to respond to the sound of his voice. Well, that was good, right? He kept talking. “Let me tell you, sweetheart, I have a brand-new appreciation for the parents of infants. Is this what Eli and Mary are going through every night right now? Huh? You think?”
Noelle sneezed again.
“Uh-oh. I hope you’re not getting sick. Dr. Delia was pretty thorough when she was examining you, and she pronounced you good to go, at least for the time being. But I suppose there’s always the possibility that she missed something. Are you coming down with a cold, little darlin’? Or am I just being a worrywart?”
He chuckled softly when he realized Noelle had stopped crying. When he gazed down at her, he realized she was looking at him expectantly, sucking contentedly on her tiny fist.
“So that was all you needed? A little man-to-baby conversation? Well, I don’t mind talking to you, sweetheart, but wouldn’t it be great if we could table this discussion for now and pick it up in the morning?” From the expectant look on her face, it seemed the answer to that question was no.
Well, if all he had to do was talk, he supposed he could handle that. He was a preacher, after all. Words were his livelihood.
Just not in the middle of the night.
He took a seat on his plush easy chair and kicked back the footrest so he could settle Noelle on his shoulder. He’d heard young parents joking about how their babies had their days and nights mixed up, but he’d never quite understood what that meant.
Now he got it, and got it good.
If nothing else, taking care of Noelle over the Christmas holiday would be a tremendous learning experience for him. After what he’d experienced tonight, he had all kinds of ideas on how to be a better pastor to the parents of newborns in his congregation. Up until this point he realized he’d kind of missed the mark. For one thing, he’d be more sympathetic, and he’d be sure to look for ways to make the transition into parenthood easier. He’d never envisioned the type of sacrifice parents made on a daily—and nightly—basis, and he imagined a strong support system would make all the difference in the world for them.
Noelle gurgled, and Shawn rubbed his fingertips against her tiny back. “What are you here to teach me?” he murmured, offering his heart to God and to the child. “I’m your student now. You’ve got me in the palm of your sweet little hand. So why don’t you tell me, young lady—what am I here to learn?”
* * *
In a more innocent time of her life, Heather’s favorite time of the year had been Christmas. Peace on earth, goodwill to all. She recalled participating in joyful caroling parties with hot apple cider and eggnog afterward. Joining in the throng of busy shoppers as they scurried around trying to catch seasonal deals for their loved ones. The anticipation as she wrapped presents and created pretty, elaborate homemade bows to tie around them. And most of all, she remembered the joy of celebrating God made Man in the person of Jesus. The nativity.
All of that had been part of her best childhood memories.
But her parents had passed on, and all the goodness associated with the season had gone by the wayside during her years with Adrian. Oh, they’d attended their fair share of Christmas parties, but Adrian was in the habit of secretly imbibing on the side. Then afterward, he’d cross town to where no one knew him and hit the bars until he was stumbling drunk.
He despised Christmas, and he’d mocked her attempts to give their house a personal touch for the season. He’d insisted on professional decorators and expensive ornaments, and eventually she’d just stopped trying. She hadn’t even bothered to give any input—it wasn’t like anyone listened to her wishes, anyway. It was just more work for her to do and there was no one but her to enjoy it. There wasn’t much joy in her life to celebrate. Adrian would complain about the twinkling lights and the space it took up and failed to appreciate the tree and Christmas decor for what they represented.
Church services became exercises in deception. So many people loved and respected Adrian, an active leader and deacon in the church. To members of the congregation, she strived to appear to be the happy, faithful wife of a charming man, with a seemingly perfect marriage and not a care in the world.
What a lie. A whole pack of them, as a matter of fact.
Well, no more.
But even though she no longer carried the weight of the lies on her shoulders, the damage they had done to her still remained. Some days it was all she could do to rise out of bed and go about her daily activities. Her foster children—nine-year-old Jacob, seven-year-old Missy and three-year-old Henry—gave her the strength to face life again. Their precious hugs and sweet laughter made even the worst of days bearable.
This year she’d purchased a freshly cut Virginia pine tree from a tree farm. No artificial trees in her house. If she was being honest, it was as much for her as for the children. It filled her heart with great joy to see the children’s excitement as they spotted the perfect tree and hauled it inside. Little hands helped as much as the big ones did.
The tree filled her home with the crisp, refreshing scent of evergreen. She’d helped the kids decorate it with a string of lights and candy canes, and then they’d threaded popcorn and cranberries and draped them over the branches for the final touch. Every cent she made from the state for fostering went straight back into caring for the children, and on the tiny salary she made as a virtual assistant, she was barely making ends meet. It was unfortunate that her finances didn’t stretch nearly as far as she would have liked, and this year, at least, she wasn’t able to afford the shiny new glass ornaments displayed in the window of Emerson’s Hardware, but if her years with Adrian had taught her anything, it was that fancy decorations didn’t make for a better holiday.
Simple pleasures were worth treasuring. She was surviving and taking care of the children, and for now, that was enough. She’d budgeted every spare dime to purchase at least one gift for each of the kids from their wish lists, and it was important to her that she followed another old Lewis tradition, so their stockings were overflowing with tokens of her affection, small and inexpensive though they were.
The scene this Christmas morning was picture-perfect. All that was missing was the pitter-patter of feet and the happy squeal of children.
She didn’t have to wait long before she heard stirring from down the hall. She promptly attuned her practiced ear to the sound. Muffled whispers emanated from the shadowed spot where the hall met the living room.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she called, infusing gaiety into her voice. “Who wants to see what Santa brought this year?”
Heather closed her eyes for a moment and simply savored the lovely sounds of Christmas. Children. Laughing, happy, excited little voices. She allowed the cheerful clatter to penetrate and fill her empty heart and warm her icy spirit.
Her eyes snapped open and her pulse quickened at the sudden shrill buzz of her cell phone. She’d turned the sound back on as she did every morning, but she wasn’t expecting a phone call, especially at this time of the morning and on Christmas Day.
She put a hand to her chest to still her galloping heart. She was sick and tired of her first reaction to the phone or doorbell being a spike of terror. It had been several years now since Adrian had been incarcerated, and still she dealt with this. She’d thought moving back home would help. How long would it take her to relearn the basics, replacing her automatic fear impulses with healthy responses?
“Wait for me, my sweethearts. Don’t go looking in your stockings until I’m off the phone,” she admonished the children playfully. She reached for the phone in the pocket of her bathrobe. It was a long-standing habit of hers to keep her cell close by, even while she was sleeping. Better safe than sorry.
She glanced at the number. She didn’t recognize it, but it was local.
“Hello?” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
“Heather? This is Pastor Shawn O’Riley. I apologize for interrupting you on your Christmas morning.”
“Shawn?” The baby. Heather’s adrenaline spiked along with her anxiety. “Is something wrong with Noelle?”
“No—no,” he answered hastily. “Well, maybe. I’m not sure. I think perhaps it’s just that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been in charge of a baby before.”
Heather pinched her lips and shook her head at the irony. A pastor, a man used to directing others, had in one single night discovered that caring for an infant offered a completely different set of challenges. Even a natural leader couldn’t make a baby do what he wanted her to do.
But there were some men who would try.
She shoved out a breath. Shawn had given her no reason to suspect he might fall into that category. “Can you be more specific?”
“Let’s see...I’ve changed her diaper, fed her, burped her—repeatedly, as a matter of fact. It’s a never-ending cycle, it seems.”
Welcome to parenthood, Heather thought. She’d never had children of her own, but for a while just after graduating from college she’d found great happiness working in a day-care center. In her heart of hearts she’d desperately wanted a baby of her own, but the idea of Adrian fathering any children she might bear had left her frightened beyond words at the prospect of conceiving and bringing a child into her terrifying and hopeless world. She hadn’t dared to have a child, who’d have been immediately put at risk.
“Sounds like you’re doing everything right,” she assured Shawn, forcefully shifting her thoughts to the present. To Noelle.
“I hope so, but I sure don’t feel like it. She’s a little darlin’, but I’m beginning to think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, so to speak. I’ve tried everything. I’ve done bathing, swaddling, attempting to coax her to take a pacifier—which, incidentally, is much more difficult in practice than it looks at first approach.”
Heather chuckled. “It takes some getting used to.”
“Yes, but here’s my problem. The one thing I cannot get her to do is sleep. She’ll only doze off for a few minutes at a time, and even then, it’s only if I’m rocking her in my arms. The moment I try to lay her down on her own, her eyes pop back open and she starts wailing in earnest. Then the whole process begins again.” He sighed deeply.
It sounded as if the poor man was sleep-deprived in a major way. Heather imagined it was hard enough to care for a newborn when there were two parents in the house to tag-team on getting some rest. She had to admire Shawn for taking such immense responsibility on his own shoulders, even for one night. It wasn’t something she would have expected from a single man.
But why was he calling her?
“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat as she waited for his answer.
His groan was one of utter defeat. “No. Not really. I guess I just wanted to hear the sound of someone’s voice, an adult someone, that is—and maybe be reassured that I’m doing everything I need to be doing for Noelle. I don’t want to mess this up. Jo Spencer considers you the resident expert, since you raise foster kids and have worked in day care and everything. I figured you were the one to call. I would hate to think I accidentally overlooked something important that I could have done to make Noelle more comfortable. Anyway, thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”
“Do you have anyone who could come over and spell you for a while so you can get some sleep?” Heather didn’t know why she asked. It wasn’t as if this situation had anything to do with her. Not directly. She wasn’t Shawn’s friend, and she didn’t want to be, thank you very much. But this concern she felt wasn’t truly for his sake, was it? No, it was for Noelle. The sweet baby deserved loving, capable care. And while Shawn seemed to be earnestly trying his best, he was unpracticed at child care even when he wasn’t sleep-deprived. “A friend? A neighbor?”
“No. This is all on me. I wouldn’t want to pull anyone away from sharing Christmas with their families.” He stifled a yawn. “I’m sure I’ll make it...somehow.”
“I can’t leave my foster kids.”
“Of course not.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t expect you to, even if you could.”
“My parents are no longer living, so I don’t have any help from that quarter.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to rationalize her actions to him, but there it was. “I’m single. I have no one else to watch them.”
“Seriously, Heather. I’m not asking for you to go out of your way for me and Noelle. I guess I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t mean to bother you or to put any kind of pressure on you.”
“You aren’t bothering me,” she replied, which was half true. It would be a good long time, if ever, before she was completely comfortable around men—particularly those who claimed to be men of faith. But this was about the baby, and making sure the tiny infant was taken care of could never be a bother.
She squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth—as she’d learned through many, many months of therapy.
Be calm. Relaxed. Composed.
She knew she was going to regret the next words coming out of her mouth, but she’d made a promise to herself and God that she’d help children in need whenever and wherever she found them. It was, in a sense, her penance for all of the mistakes she had made.
And at this moment, that meant she was going to help Noelle.
There was nothing she could do for the two children who’d died instantly after being sideswiped by Adrian’s car as he swerved all over the road in a drunken haze. She couldn’t turn back the clock and keep Adrian from walking out the door on that fateful day, even though she’d known he’d had too much to drink and that he was going to get behind the wheel and drive. She’d only been thinking about herself at the time. She’d wanted him gone, and she’d let him walk away.
She wished she could make things right, but she couldn’t. However, she could do something for the tiny baby who’d been abandoned by her mother on Christmas Eve. She could—and she would.
“I know I said I can’t leave my kids alone in the house, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come over here. I will set an extra plate, and you and Noelle can join us for Christmas dinner. I’m sure the kids would love to have extra guests at the table. I’ll be happy to watch Noelle for a bit while you catch a power nap. Unless you have other plans, that is.”
“No. No other plans. But are you sure I won’t be imposing on you?” Relief was evident in his voice.
“No.” Yes. “Not at all.”
“Well, then.”
Why was he hesitating? Could he hear the tentativeness in her tone?
“Oh, that’s right. You don’t have a car seat, do you?” She slung out a guess.
“That’s not a problem. A car seat isn’t necessary. It’s not an immediate issue, anyway. I’ll have to procure one eventually, I suppose, if I’m going to be the one taking Noelle to the authorities in San Antonio. But today, we can walk.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief and she dragged in a silent breath. He hadn’t noticed her uncertainty, then. Good.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll set an extra plate for you. Come over whenever you’re ready. Oh, and be sure to bundle Noelle up really well. There’s a bit of a chill in the air.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind the extra company?”
No, she wasn’t sure. She would never be sure. Probably not for one single day for the rest of her life. And she wished he would stop asking, or she was liable to give in to her doubts and capitulate.
“I’m absolutely certain,” she reassured him for what she hoped was the last time. “I’m looking forward to seeing that precious little blessing of yours.”
At least that was the truth.
Chapter Three (#ulink_f0863dbd-12c0-5e99-a1e3-5d2e4058d065)
Shawn had never been so uncomfortable in his life. Being the kind and thoughtful woman she was, Heather hadn’t said as much out loud, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was intruding on her personal family time—and that she was only allowing it because he was entirely inadequate to the task of caring for an infant.
From the moment he’d stepped into the house, Heather had swept Noelle into her arms and taken over all of the baby care. How quickly she had put the poor little infant’s world to rights. Heather had also fixed his most pressing problem, insisting he head straight into Jacob’s bedroom for a quick nap.
He’d dropped into a dead sleep but had been wakened shortly after by a phone call from Jo, inquiring how he was faring with Noelle. She hadn’t even sounded a little bit surprised when he revealed he had come to Heather’s house for help. Probably because Jo already suspected how hopeless he’d be with an infant.
Why no one had bothered to inform him that he wasn’t up to the task was beyond him. No one had uttered a single word of warning. Instead, every last one of them had played right along last night when he’d unwittingly offered to care for the infant. No one had laughed. No one had even seemed startled by his hasty proposal. They’d let him dive right off the side of a cliff without testing the depth of the water first.
How could he have known what he was letting himself in for? He was a simple cowboy preacher. He knew ranching and he had the gift of gab. He was a single man and lived alone. His needs were few.
Noelle’s needs were apparently many, or at least they were a mystery to him, and he was clearly lacking in his ability to take decent care of her. At least here with Heather, he could be assured that Noelle would have everything she needed. Though the downside was that he’d have Heather as a witness to see exactly how inept he truly was. He grinned, not bothered by the laughter that was bound to come at his expense—and if there wasn’t yet, there soon would be. Christmas Day wasn’t over. He had a while yet to display the stunning depths of his incompetence.
He didn’t really care if other folks caught a laugh or two over his present circumstances—he was laughing at himself. It was pretty funny, when he thought about it.
Chuckling, Shawn assured Jo that all was well for the time being. It was all good now—because of Heather’s generosity and help. Jo laughed with him and agreed with his assessment of Heather and then promised she’d check in on him later. Shawn tucked his cell phone into his shirt pocket and stretched to get the kinks out of his shoulders. Now that he was awake, he wasn’t sure what he should be doing.
Probably leaving. He didn’t want to take advantage of Heather’s kindness, particularly on what he understood to be her first Christmas with her foster children.
But when he padded back into the living room and spied Noelle and Heather looking so comfortable and contented together in the rocking chair, he couldn’t find it in his heart to break them up. And truth be told, even considering how awkward he felt right now being the third wheel, he wasn’t yet prepared to go off on his own and face another night of single-parent foster-daddy duty.
He shuffled toward the corner of the living room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his blue jeans. He probably should at least offer to do something to help, but he hadn’t the faintest notion of what assistance he could give. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t technically even a guest. He didn’t know where she kept the silverware. His cooking skills were marginal. And though he could probably manage to keep the older kids occupied, he was totally useless with the baby.
“You don’t have to hold up the wall,” Heather commented with a gentle smile, brushing a long strand of mahogany-brown hair behind her ear. “Feel free to sit wherever you can find a free space, although it looks like you may have to move something to find a seat. I usually have a rule about putting away toys before new ones get taken out, but I’m being a little lax today, since it’s Christmas.”
He smiled and nodded to acknowledge her offer, but he was too fidgety to sit down just yet. Besides, standing gave him a better view of the kids. There was nothing like the sight and sound of jubilant children on Christmas morning to raise a man’s spirits.
Crumpled wads of bright-colored Christmas wrap, now ripped and forgotten, lay balled underneath the glittering tree. Heather’s three foster children were busy with their new toys. The boys, nine-year-old Jacob and three-year-old Henry, played together, pushing their shiny cast-model race cars around a plastic track. Seven-year-old Missy held a new doll in the curve of her arm and mimicked Heather’s sounds and movements as she held Noelle. It was a heartwarming sight, especially since just yesterday he’d imagined he’d spend the day as a lonely bachelor.
What a difference a day could make. Here he was, enveloped in the warmth of a child-filled house. He hadn’t realized just how wonderful it would be after having been alone all these years. It filled his heart with great joy to realize how little it took to make the young ones happy. He needed a little bit more of that innocence in his life. If only adults had the same capacity to give and receive as generously as the youngsters.
Heather hadn’t gone overkill on the number or size of the gifts—whether because she couldn’t or she chose not to, but there was no shortage in the amount of joy she’d given her children in what they had received. It was abundantly clear to anyone observing the scene that she knew each of her foster children intimately and was mindful of what they wanted and needed.
Shawn was envious of that quality in her. He apparently hadn’t been able to anticipate Noelle’s needs at all.
It was a good thing for the baby that he wasn’t going to end up being her permanent foster parent. She would no doubt go to a wonderful home with a foster mother like Heather, who had the knowledge and capacity to care for her. All of her needs would be anticipated and met without Shawn’s doltish stops and starts. She was such a sweet little girl, and he was certain she’d eventually be adopted by a nice Christian family with a mom and a dad who loved each other. Maybe she’d have other siblings to play with and a dog and a cat and a yard with a fence.
All he had to offer was the dog and the cat and the yard and the fence—and pigs and goats and horses and ranch land.
Not good enough. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
He shifted his attention back to Heather, who watched over her brood from an old-fashioned wooden rocking chair laden with colorful floral cushions. She hummed a Christmas carol as she rocked. She had a lovely, rich alto voice that enthralled Shawn as much as it did Noelle, purring through his muscles until he felt thoroughly relaxed and yet completely alert at the same time. It was an odd paradox, but true nonetheless.
To his utter astonishment, he discovered that Noelle, who was contentedly curled in the crook of Heather’s arm, wasn’t asleep as he’d first assumed she must be. Instead, she was staring up at Heather, her chubby fist in her mouth and her eyes just beginning to focus on the woman holding her.
What she wasn’t doing was crying. Not wailing, not squalling, not bawling, not even a whimper.
Go figure.
Shawn was amazed by how quickly Heather had made everything right in the tiny baby’s world. He didn’t know if it was because she was experienced in caring for infants or the fact that she was naturally suited to be a mother. Maybe it was a combination of both, but Noelle responded to Heather in a way that made Shawn feel especially incompetent, a fact which, while impressive, grated against his distinctly male pride. He wanted to do it right, get things done the first time and in an expedient manner—not stumble over his every move.
He watched in awe as the baby took a bottle from Heather without a fuss. Adding insult to injury, Noelle fell asleep while Heather was in the midst of patting her back.
Heather definitely must know some tricks of the trade that he didn’t. Or maybe the tiny tyke was plain old worn-out from her self-appointed task of keeping Shawn awake all night. She had to sleep sometime, right?
Just not on his watch.
Shawn shifted his weight and smothered a yawn behind his fist. The catnap he’d taken was a drop in the bucket after the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d had to stay awake, although there was that. It had been quite a few years since he’d pulled an all-nighter. But there was a great deal more to the fatigue weighing him down—like the stress of being singularly responsible for a tiny human life, completely helpless and dependent upon him.
“You still look thoroughly exhausted,” Heather commented. She tilted her chin and blinked up at him with her big hazel eyes that softly glimmered from the lights of the tree. “I think maybe you need to sleep a little bit longer. There’s no rush, you know. I don’t mind watching the baby this afternoon.”
Caught up in her gaze, Shawn’s stomach did a little flip and he barely stanched the urge to clear the catch out of his throat.
“Jo woke me when she phoned to check on Noelle. I attempted to go back to sleep but my mind started spinning with all that’s been going on and that was the end of my nap. As tired as I am, I don’t think I could sleep any more.”
“That’s a shame. Maybe you should have put your phone on mute.” She smiled, though it looked a bit forced. “Well, in any case, you don’t have to stand in the corner. You look like a hat stand—or else like someone put you in time-out.”
Shawn chuckled. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“And probably not the last. Seriously—please come sit down on the couch and take a load off. You make me nervous when you hover that way.” Despite her kidding tone, he almost got the sense that she truly was nervous. But that couldn’t be right, could it? What reason would she have to be nervous around him?
“I don’t even mind if you put your feet up on the coffee table—well, the storage bench that serves as the coffee table—either,” she continued. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s what it’s there for.”
“Not for decoration? It’s a nice-looking piece of furniture.” The bench looked as if it fit with the rest of her decor—not that he was any kind of expert on matters of decorating. The padded corners were a little worn, but it exhibited the same lived-in look as her other furnishings. He liked lived-in.
She chuckled. “No fancy furniture in this household. Decorative would last about a day. With three kids running around, functional is the name of the game here.”
He groaned in delight as the plush cushions on the chocolate-colored couch enveloped him like gentle arms. True comfort. Everything about Heather’s house suggested it was the genuine article. Her entire home expressed her heart—and it was all about the children.
Her home was far more comfortable and welcoming than the more perfectly kept, sanitized houses of some of his congregants, where he found himself tiptoeing around, afraid to stand near the furniture, much less sit on it. He felt ill at ease in too-clean houses. As a pastor, visiting his flock was one of his favorite tasks, but as a cowboy who lived and worked on a ranch with horses and goats and pigs, he wasn’t always dust-and dirt-free. Heather certainly didn’t need to apologize for her furniture. He wished everyone kept a house like hers.
She was literally encouraging him to put his feet up.
Sweet!
All he needed now was a cold soft drink and a football game on television—although of course he’d never suggest such a thing. He’d already probably put enough dents into her holiday without bringing sports into it.
“I can’t believe how worn-out I feel,” Shawn said, running a hand across the stubble on his jaw and belatedly realizing he hadn’t shaved that morning. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t combed his hair before he left, either—and then he’d gone and taken a nap, which could only have served to worsen his already disheveled appearance. He must look like the abominable snowman’s twin brother, and yet Heather hadn’t blinked an eye, not when he’d appeared at the door, and not when he’d shuffled out after his nap. “I don’t know how new parents do it, but I’m certainly too old to try to pull all-nighters anymore.”
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