Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (50 page)

She left the kitchen and went into the living room. Betsy followed her.

“I know it's probably a fruitless question, but where did you put your smile, Greta?”

Greta sighed and turned to look at her little sister. She pointed to her cheek. “It's right here on my face.”

“Not the fake smile. It's Old Christmas today. Everyone is here to celebrate with us. Where did you put your real smile?”

“Someone took it to Pennsylvania with him,” Morris said walking in from his room.

Greta scowled at him. “You're eavesdropping again.”

“How am I supposed to learn anything interesting if I don't listen at keyholes?” The sarcasm was gone. There was only gentle humor in his tone. He could still be sharp, but he tried hard not to be cruel. Greta was grateful for that.

“Did you want something,
Onkel
?” she asked.

“Just to tell you that your belated Christmas gifts are coming down the lane.”

“What are you talking about?” Greta moved to look out the living room window. She couldn't believe her eyes. She blinked hard and looked again. Toby and Marianne were walking toward her house.

She started to run outside and then stopped. She turned to look at her uncle. “What have you done?”

“Me? Nothing.”

“I don't believe you.”

“I wrote a letter to a friend urging her to come and visit. It appears she has answered me. Greta, real love, the kind that lasts through this life and beyond is a rare thing. Don't waste it.”

Greta pulled her coat on and walked out to meet Toby. Marianne held Christmas in her arms. When Marianne caught sight of Greta, she put the cat down. Christmas ran past Duncan who lay dozing in the sun and raced up the porch steps. The dog woke with a start and looked around. He spied the cat sitting in front of the screen door and began wagging his tail.

Toby stood with his hands in pockets as Greta embraced Marianne. “I'm so glad to see you, little one.”

Marianne wrapped her arms tightly around Greta's neck. “I'm happy to see you. I brought Toby to visit you because he's been sad and Christmas wants to stay with
Onkel
Morris. I've missed you and
Onkel
Morris, too. Can I go see him?”

Greta released her and managed a smile. “He's inside waiting for you, and Clara's children are playing out in the barn. I know they'll want to see you, too.”

“Wunderbarr.”
She ran toward the house.

They had come for a visit and nothing more. Greta finally gained enough control of her emotions to look at Toby.
She had missed him so much. He looked so wonderful. “How have you been?”

“Miserable. I had to see you, Greta.”

Crossing her arms, Greta stared at her shoes. “Marianne looks good. She must enjoy being with her aunt and cousins.”

“She has, but she missed you and your family.”

“We've missed her, too.” His sister was healing with his family, as he knew she would. He had been right to take her home. Greta was glad she'd had a chance to see that for herself. This time when he left, she could console herself that Marianne was where she belonged.

He gave an exasperated sigh. “I didn't come here for small talk. We started out on a simple short journey together, Greta. That's all it was meant to be.”

“And that's all it was.” He shouldn't have come back. Their break had been hard, but this was harder. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and sob her heart out.

“Our journey was short, but it was only the start of our journey. Greta, I can't accept a life without you in it. I know we haven't known each other long, but I have never known anyone as well as I know you.”

“How can you say that?” She walked away from him.

He caught up with her and stopped in front of her to block her way. “I can say it because it's true. I know how you have struggled to forgive your uncle. I can see how happy you are to be free of that burden. I'm happy for you. I know you are kind, I know you are enormously helpful to others. I know you see helping others as your calling in life. That is a wonderful thing.”

“I told you these things. That doesn't mean you know me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. If he knew her, he would know her heart was breaking at the thought of watching him leave again.

“Greta, I know your family doesn't always understand you. I know you like the color green. I know you like animals. At this moment, I wish I was a cat with a lopped off ear because you would be trying to heal me. What you can't see is that I'm a man with part of his heart lopped off. I lost a piece of it the moment I walked away from you.”

“I'm sorry we hurt each other, but I understand why you had to leave.”

“But do you understand why I had to come back? This isn't something a simple bandage will fix. Only your compassion, only your love can begin to fix what's wrong with me.”

“You were right to leave with your sister. She needs you. Everyone could see that, even my uncle.”

“Yes, I was right to take Marianne back to Pennsylvania, but I was wrong to leave you here without any hope of my return. Without telling you how much you meant to me. Without telling you that I love you. Do you hear me, Greta Barkman? I'm in love with you. I'm not going anywhere until I hear four simple words from you.”

She gazed into his eyes and bit the corner of her lip. Would he stay if she asked him to? Would he leave his sister? Did she have the right to ask him to do that? “I don't know what you expect me to say.”

“I want you to say,
I love you, Toby
, or
I don't love you.
”

“That's it? That's all I have to say?”

“That's it. So choose.”

She spun away. “It isn't that simple.

“It is. It's like a cross-stitching. It looks complicated, but it isn't. Needle in and needle out.
I love you, Toby,
or
I don't love you.
”

Stiffening her spine, she faced him. “I don't love you.”

He took a step back, a look of shock on his face. Greta didn't want to hurt him, but he had given her no choice. He would regret choosing her over his sister forever.

“Okay, now I know that you can tell a lie. Why is it so hard to admit the truth? I'm sorry you feel I don't deserve you.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I never said you didn't deserve me.”

“That's what I heard.”

“You heard wrong.”

“Then I do deserve you.” He rocked back on his heels with a smug grin.

She pressed her fingers to temples. “Stop trying to confuse me.”

“I'm not trying to confuse you. Either I don't deserve your love, or I do. I like those words.”

She was getting angry. “What words?”

“I do. I like the sound of those words.” He stepped forward and took her hands in his. “I would give my life to hear you say those words in front of our friends and family. I deserve to live with the love of a woman God has chosen for me. You deserve to live with the love of a man God has chosen for you. I love you, Greta. We can have a long courtship and get to know each other really well, but we are meant to be together.”

“You can't choose me over your sister.”

“I have already chosen, but, darling, Marianne wants to live here with you and your family. If she changes her mind, she can go back to
Aenti
Linda. She's strong enough to make that choice. I love you, Greta. You are my choice.”

“Oh, Toby, do you really love me?” It was almost too wonderful to accept.

He kissed the back of her hand. “I love everything about you. I love your fingers. I love your cute nose. I love your gorgeous lips. I'm going to find a job and live close by so I can court you as I should. I know I should've asked the first time, but I'm going to ask now. May I kiss you, Greta Barkman?”

Her heart melted into a puddle of joy. “For the record, if you had asked the first time, I would have said yes then, too.”

“Did I mention I love your honesty?”

“No, you mentioned that I know how to lie.”

“Everyone has faults. I can live with that. Will you say the two words that I'm dying to hear?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you ask the question that I've been dying to hear.”

“Greta Barkman, do you take this poor lovesick man to love and to obey, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part?” He leaned close until his lips were only a breath away from her ear.

“I do,” she whispered.

Greta closed her eyes. His tender kiss took her breath away and sent her soul soaring. God had blessed her in more ways than she could count, but she would spend a lifetime giving thanks for every one of them. Especially for this man.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from YULETIDE BABY by Deb Kastner.

Dear Reader,

I hope you have enjoyed Greta's journey. The Christmas season led her to discover forgiveness in her heart. That, in turn, made room for Toby's love to come in and grow.

Forgiving those who have harmed us, physically or emotionally, can be very difficult. I struggle with this as much as anyone, but without finding that strength within ourselves we can remain victims and not victors. Abuse is not an easy topic to discuss, and I certainly did not mean to trivialize it in any way when I wrote this book. The recovery for victims and perpetrators is much more complex than I had room to write about here.

If you or someone you know is the victim of abuse, I urge you to seek help. Reaching out can save a life.

I wish you and your families a safe and happy Christmas season. Let the Light of the World shine in your life and in all you do.

Blessings,

Questions for Discussion

1. Do you believe the family made the right decision in agreeing to allow Morris to move into their home? Could you do so? Why or why not?
   
2. Both Greta and Toby are dealing with issues related to their pasts. How do you feel they helped each other?
   
3. What purpose did you discover for the addition of Christmas the cat to this story?
   
4. Did you learn anything new about the Amish culture in reading this book?
   
5. Did you learn anything new about sheep while reading this story?
   
6. What was the most touching moment in this book for you and why?
   
7. Why do you think Greta and Toby found such an instant attraction to each other? Do you believe in love at first sight?
   
8. How can we, as Christians, help prevent child abuse in our society? Is education the answer?
   

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

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Chapter One

S
ilent 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.