Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (53 page)
Authors: Brenda Minton
“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.”
Copyright © 2014 by Deb Kastner
ISBN-13: 9781460344132
An Amish Christmas Journey
Copyright © 2014 by Patricia MacDonald
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ⢠are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
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 cowboyânot a daddy! Haunted by family tragedy, he's not sure he can risk his heart to baby Noelleâor 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 careâbut 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 allâfamily 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.”
Books by Deb Kastner
Love Inspired
  A Holiday Prayer
  Daddy's Home
  Black Hills Bride
  The Forgiving Heart
  A Daddy at Heart
  A Perfect Match
  The Christmas Groom
  Hart's Harbor
  Undercover Blessings
  The Heart of a Man
  A Wedding in Wyoming
  His Texas Bride
  The Marine's Baby
  A Colorado Match
*
Phoebe's Groom
*
The Doctor's Secret
Son
*
The Nanny's Twin
Blessings
*
Meeting Mr. Right
â
The Soldier's
Sweetheart
â
Her Valentine Sheriff
â
Redeeming the Rancher
â
Yuletide Baby
*Email Order
Brides
â Serendipity
Sweethearts
âCowboy Country
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 thingsâfaith 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 familyâher first granddaughter, Isabella. What fun to be a granny!
Deb loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her by email at
[email protected]
, or on her
MySpace
or
Facebook
pages.
YULETIDE BABY
Deb Kastner
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.
âLamentations
3:22â24
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!
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 itâall 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 hitchâgive 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 sinceâ 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 mangerâ
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 seenâ
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 wrappedânot 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 neckâthat 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 allâwhat 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 remainedâwhom 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 everythingâand 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 meanâ 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 mentionedâI 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.