Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (61 page)

“I'll manage,” he said. The corner of his lips twitched with strain.

“I'll help,” Heather assured him, even though it went against the grain to make the offer. She had enough on her plate without getting more involved in Shawn's drama, but even though she didn't feel entirely comfortable with him, who else would be there to help him prepare his living situation for Noelle, if not her? “It's really not that complicated. We'll need to cover all the open electrical outlets and put child-locks on the cabinets. You'll definitely want to move any harmful chemicals out of the reach of little hands and make sure any medicine bottles and firearms are well-protected.”

“I'm not a hunter, so I don't have any weapons in the house. And I'm as healthy as a horse, so I don't have any prescription medicines around.”

“Any over-the-counter painkillers? Vitamins? Antacids?” Heather probed. “They're all dangerous if ingested by an infant. Childproof caps are all well and good, but they certainly aren't fail-safe.”

Light dawned in his pale blue eyes, along with a flash of panic. “Oh, yeah. Right. I didn't think. What if I... That is... I don't want to miss anything.” Shawn stroked his face, drawing Heather's attention to the strong line of his clean-shaven jaw. He was taking this very seriously, she had to give him that much. It made her want to reassure him.

“You won't. I remember how overwhelmed I felt when I first brought my three kids home. Just remember you aren't alone. I'm here to help, just like I've been since Noelle came into our lives. Just a phone call away, day or night.”

“You will never even begin to comprehend how much that means to me,” he replied, brushing a kiss against Noelle's dark hair.

“Oh, I think I do,” Heather murmured. She couldn't help but smile at the admittedly adorable picture Shawn made, his expression as helpless as the baby in his arms.

“Is it all right if we stop at a discount store before we leave San Antonio? I'm going to need to buy a crib and a car seat immediately, and then you can help me make a list of the other supplies I'll be needing.”

Heather chuckled. “Put diapers at the top of that list. Lots and lots of diapers.”

The neighbors who'd visited on Christmas Day had provided enough diapers, bottles, packages of formula and changes of clothes to get Shawn and Noelle by for a while, but Heather knew there would be numerous challenges in the days ahead, and she knew she would be able to help, even if it pained her to do so.

“Diapers. Right.” Shawn made a face. “Guess it goes with the territory.”

“Give it a week,” she advised. “Soon it'll come second nature and you won't have to think about it.”

He didn't look convinced, but the glow in his eyes exhibited his resolve. He was clearly going to make a go of it on willpower alone, if nothing else.

“We can make a quick stop at Emerson's Hardware once we get back into Serendipity. They carry all the baby-proofing items we'll need. Right now Noelle is too small to get into too much mischief, but it's only a matter of time before she'll be crawling around your house. You'll need to evaluate with an eye to what a baby might get into or be harmed by. Glass furniture, sharp edges, potentially hot surfaces, even the toilet bowl. That kind of thing.”

“And that will be the purpose of my visit, as well,” Maggie added. “Simply to ensure Noelle's long-term well-being—not that I have any doubts, mind you. I already have a really great feeling about this particular matchup.”

Shawn glanced down at Noelle and a smile played at the corners of his lips. “Blessed by the Almighty's hand.”

“Perhaps,” Maggie agreed mildly. “It certainly looks that way.”

“I don't know why He picked me.”

That statement was somewhat enlightening. Was that what this was about? Shawn having some kind of guilt complex because he'd been the one to find Noelle? Was he doing this because he thought God had somehow ordered the circumstances, practically depositing Noelle in Shawn's lap? How long would that conviction last—and what would it mean for Noelle in the aftermath?

“In any event, I assure you it's not my intention to judge you or your home in any way except to make suggestions on how to keep Noelle safe and sound. I hope you'll consider me your partner in this.”

“Safe and sound,” Shawn repeated with a nod. “My primary goal.”

Heather's stomach turned over but she managed a light laugh despite her misgivings. “And surrounded by love. Don't forget your main concern as a foster father will be to love her.”

His eyes widened on her, his shock evident. “I didn't forget,” he assured her. “Loving Noelle—well, that's just a given. It's not going to slip my mind or anything. I don't have to work on that part.”

“No, I don't think you do,” Heather agreed, and she was astounded to find she actually believed him. This guy was quite literally putting his life on hold for this child. Perhaps there was good in the world after all.

Chapter Five

S
hawn jammed a pitchfork into a bale of hay and tossed it into the nearest stall, then repeated the process for the three stalls down the line. His Shetland sheepdog, the Queen of Sheba—Queenie, for short—followed at his heels, barking. It was a little more complicated to pitch hay and carry feed with an infant strapped to his chest, but he hadn't figured out what else he could do with Noelle while he worked, and the animals had to be fed.

Morning and evening, he and Noelle were out in the barn doing chores.

In addition to his three horses, he owned a brood of chickens, seven stubborn, lawn-mower-worthy goats, six sows—and at the moment, a dozen piglets. It didn't pay to own a boar, so he just borrowed one from the neighbors when the time was ripe.

He loved his work as a pastor, but ranching was in his blood. And while he didn't have time to care for a herd of cattle, his pigs and goats brought in a tidy hobby income and he had plenty of opportunities to ride and rope and mend fences helping friends, neighbors and congregants with their stock. Still, on a regular daily basis it was fairly lonely work. He actually liked having human company, even that of a little human. Over the week since he'd officially become a foster father, he'd learned to adapt all the components of his busy lifestyle to the baby's needs.

It was a mild day, and he'd bundled Noelle in long-sleeved terry-cloth pink pajamas, complete with footies. His kid was cute. Adorable. His breath crammed into his throat every time he looked at the little darlin'.

He had just finished slopping the pigs when Heather's silver SUV turned into his long driveway. He waved to her and she returned the gesture with a jerky nod.

Shawn's breath caught. There it was again. That gut
feeling
he had—as if something was amiss between the two of them, only it was all on Heather's side and he didn't know why. Had he done something?

“We have company, baby darlin',” he informed Noelle, who noisily sucked her fist in response. He grinned and tossed the feed bucket into the barn, hurrying to help Heather get the kids out of the car.

“I'm glad you brought the kiddos along with you,” he said as she rounded them to her side. “I think they'll like the ranch.”

“It was your idea, remember?” she reminded him with a dry chuckle.

“I know, right?” he agreed, joining his laughter to hers. “I figured it would be easier for you to bring them along than try to find alternate care for them.”

“Easier for me, perhaps,” she agreed, “but I'm not going to guarantee it will be easier for you. These kids are a handful and a half.” She didn't sound as if it bothered her—only that she believed it might bother him.

Shawn didn't think it would be a problem. He liked kids, and they usually seemed to take to him. He'd gotten along with Heather's kids on Christmas Day just fine. He knelt to the children's level. “I have a surprise for you. Do you want to see what it is?”

Missy immediately nodded and slipped her tiny hand into his, her smile eager and trusting. Little Henry looked from him to Heather and back again, seeking direction on whether or not it was okay to go with this man. He stared at Shawn with wide brown eyes, his thumb in his mouth, and then opted to crawl into Heather's arms instead of taking Shawn's other hand.

Jacob's demeanor was also less than enthusiastic. He frowned and slinked back at Shawn's words, shifting his attention from Shawn to the barn to his shoes, but not before Shawn thought he glimpsed the hint of interest in the boy's eyes. Shawn prayed silently for the poor kid. He imagined Jacob had been through a lot in his young life. It was no wonder he was hesitant.

He knew firsthand what it was to be a young man with no one to depend on but himself. After they'd lost David, Shawn's mother hadn't been there at all, and his dad had been mostly out of the picture with his drinking habit. At least Jacob had Heather now. She provided the love and stability Shawn had never had as a child. For whatever reason, Heather had dedicated herself to these three foster kids, and they were blessed to have her. He hoped they'd someday realize what they had.

“Come with me and we'll grab a baby bottle out of the barn,” he said, regaining his feet and pointing toward the large red structure.

“You keep your baby formula in the barn?” Heather asked, her voice an even mixture of astonishment and horror.

Shawn laughed and shook his head. “Not exactly. Although, come to think of it, I imagine Noelle will be ready to eat pretty soon here, too.”

“Too?”

Shawn raised his eyebrows and flashed Heather what he hoped was a mysterious grin. “It's easier for you to see what I'm talking about than for me to try to explain. Why don't you all follow me and I'll show you what I mean.”

He led the way into the shadow of the barn, scooping up the bottle he'd prepared off a shelf just inside the door, and then glanced over his shoulder to make sure Heather followed. She was just behind him, holding three-year-old Henry on one hip and tugging a reluctant Jacob along with her opposite arm.

“Have you spent any time on a ranch? Do you like farm animals?” Shawn asked, directing his question at nine-year-old Jacob.

The boy shrugged noncommittally and didn't quite meet his gaze.

“Horses?” Shawn prodded. “Goats? Chickens? Pigs?”

“Piggies!” seven-year-old Missy exclaimed, tugging on her blond ponytail and twirling on her toes like a tiny ballerina.

“Piggies it is, then,” Shawn agreed, his grin widening. At least the little girl seemed excited about her day. He'd have to work on the other two.

Heather wrinkled her nose. “I was raised on a ranch here in Serendipity, but I can't say taking care of the animals was one of my favorite chores.”

“No?” Her statement caught Shawn off guard, and he shuffled to a stop, tossing a look over his right shoulder to see if she was teasing him. Her lips were pinched together in a straight line that accentuated the crease in her eyebrows. She was far too young to have the kind of worry lines she displayed.

He had to admit his surprise. He would have pegged her for an animal lover. She had that sensitive nature about her. She was a small woman with a delicate physique, so it wasn't as if he expected she would go all-in for heavy ranch labor, but for some reason he'd supposed she would enjoy spending time around the animals. In fact, he'd banked this whole day on that assumption. “So you're not a fan of farm animals, then?”

“No, not really. Is that a terrible thing to say? I was incredibly jealous of my older sister, Havanah. All she had to do was wash dishes every evening, while I was responsible for getting up at the crack of dawn every single day to milk the dairy cow. Rain or shine, hot or cold, in school or on summer vacation, three hundred sixty-five days a year.” She scrunched her lips in distaste.

Shawn chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

“Considering I am not, never have been and never will be a morning person? Yes. Definitely
that bad
. It wasn't the milking I minded so much, or the cow, for that matter. Hershey, our milk cow, was my confidant. Free therapy to go along with the benefits of calcium.”

“And chocolate milk?” he teased.

She chuckled. “I wish. It's been a long time since I thought about my life back then. Those were definitely the good old days.”

He laughed. “You are far too young to have ‘good old days.'”

“Well, thank you, but you're wrong about that.”

Her eyes met Shawn's, and for the briefest beat he had a glimpse of her vulnerability—and her pain. She did look older than her age, but only in the depths of her gaze. He suspected she'd seen too much, lived too hard.

She shook her head and scoffed, and the moment passed.

“Listen to me going on as if my high school years were something special. I had as much teenage angst as anyone—as Hershey well knew.” Her laugh was forced and unnatural, but the sigh that followed after was real enough. “I couldn't stand the daybreak part of the equation. Some mornings I wanted to pelt something at those roosters when they started their annoying crowing. Ugh. Country living definitely has its pitfalls.”

He'd never thought of it that way. He liked the roosters and God's brilliant sunrises. He saw happiness in the start of a new day, where she observed the drawbacks.

Everything positive in his life that made it the joy it was centered around country living. The seven years he'd spent in the city going to college and seminary were the longest of his life. He'd enjoyed school, but he missed the clean air, the hard work—and the animals.

Where ranching was concerned, he supposed it didn't hurt that he was a morning person. He'd never thought twice about rising before dawn to care for the stock. He would be up even if he didn't have to be. It was easy for him. Enjoyable.

But not so much for Heather. He got that, and he felt bad that he'd already evidently brought back unpleasant memories for her. He didn't want to make it worse. But what were they really talking about? He could feel in his gut that there was much she was not telling him, and whatever the subtext was, it had little to do with small-town living or even getting up in the morning. He wished he could read between the lines, understand what she was
not
telling him.

The fact that she'd come back to live in Serendipity after moving away for whatever reason was telling in itself. She obviously didn't dislike sprawling ranch land enough to stay away—although the fact that she lived in town and didn't own a cow that needed daily milking might have been a factor, as well. Yet now she was caring for children. As he had learned with Noelle, children ran on their own timetables. What made that more palatable to her than the timetable of ranch life?

He wondered if he'd made a tactical error inviting her into his barn. Baby-proofing the house was one thing. Stomping around with the animals was quite another.

Maybe she'd think his operation was lame, or worse, it would remind her of not-so-happy days. He hesitated, rethinking his options, but in the end, he plunged into the shadow of the barn, passed the three horses and then turned left into a stall that was...
otherwise
occupied.

No horses here.

The children would like his surprise, he was certain of it. And whether or not it was precisely what she would have chosen, he suspected Heather would be pleased with the outcome, simply because he expected it would include seeing her kids all bubbly and full of joy.

Inside the stall, lounging on a fresh bed of hay, were a plump mama sow and twelve little black-and-white-spotted piglets. Just a few days old, they were only just beginning to sprout hair. Most of them were grunting and rooting for their mother's milk, but one little piglet, the tiniest of the bunch, was consistently squeezed out, no matter how often he attempted to dive into the middle of the fray.

“See this little fellow here?” Shawn asked, dropping to his knees before the pigs and scooping the runt into his hand. “His big brothers and sisters aren't letting him have a turn for a meal. How fair is that? We're going to help him out a little bit so he can grow big and strong like his siblings.”

Missy cheered, clearly delighted with the idea. Both boys leaned in to see what Shawn was going to do next. He was happy all the kids were interested, but his eyes were on Heather's reaction.

“You're feeding the runt of the litter?” She squatted down beside him. Even though the hay was clean and freshly tossed, she didn't actually kneel in it. He noticed how carefully she chose her footing, despite the fact that she was wearing cowboy boots that looked as though they'd seen their fair share of use. She'd spent the past several years in the city—a country girl who'd possibly been displaced a little too long? Was that why she was so uncomfortable with her surroundings?

Shawn forced a grin and winked at her, hoping to ease the tension between them. “I figure everyone ought to try to help the weak ones among us.”

Heather gave a surprised gasp and her hazel eyes widened on him. It was the oddest look, and it made him uncomfortable.

“That's so...wonderful,” she murmured.

Shawn lifted a brow. It was just a pig, after all.

Or were they no longer speaking of barnyard animals? She was staring at him as if he'd just said he was single-handedly conquering world hunger. He couldn't mistake the admiration shining from her gaze, and for some reason it simultaneously choked him up and revved up his ego, which was going to swell to the size of Texas if he didn't avert his eyes from the smile softly forming on the curve of her mouth. Her lips didn't need gloss or color to shine—just happy thoughts.

“Do you want to do the honors?” he asked Missy, pressing the bottle into the little girl's hands. Anything to get his mind away from the myriad distractions of Heather's outstanding facial features.

Eyes. Lips. Straight, narrow nose. Good grief. He was getting carried away.

The seven-year-old gripped the bottle tightly, her small, pink tongue pressing out from between her lips as she concentrated on aiming the working end of the container at the piglet's snout. What a cute little darlin' she was.

The girl. Not the pig. Well, the pig was kind of cute, too. And the other children, including his precious Noelle.

Okay, the woman was pretty decent, as well.

Aaand there he went again.

“I named him Hammie,” he told Missy as the piglet rooted for the nipple.

Heather snorted. “Hammie? Really?”

Heat crept up Shawn's neck. “All right. I'll admit that's not the most original name I could have come up with.”

“Of course it is. H-Hammie. For—” The end of her sentence was cut off by another sputter of laughter. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her eyes. “And I suppose you've also got Bacon and Pork Chop somewhere in this bunch.”