Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (58 page)

Heather shrugged and dropped her gaze from his, but he thought he detected sadness in her gaze before she looked away. “I wouldn't know. It might be. Do you regret agreeing to care for Noelle through the holiday?”

Regret?
No, that wasn't the word he would use to describe what he was feeling about fostering Noelle.

Heather's soft-spoken question jarred him to the core. Despite the lack of sleep, Shawn's heart went out to baby Noelle in a way he couldn't even explain. He believed God had His hand in placing Noelle in the manger at his little chapel instead of at the police station or firehouse. Sure, he missed the sleep he would have gotten. But the regret would be a hundred times stronger if he hadn't made the choice to take the baby in.

He shook his head. “No. I'm glad for the opportunity. And I do believe God put Noelle into my life for a reason. I won't soon forget her. She's stolen a piece of my heart. If nothing else comes of this, the experience will give me a better pastoral understanding for new parents in my little parish.”

Shawn didn't miss the way her jaw ticked when he mentioned God. He had a feeling there was a reason why she didn't attend church, but even though he was curious, now was hardly the time to press her on the issue. She was virtually a stranger to him, and yet she'd opened up her home and her holiday to him, and even more important, to Noelle. She had a good heart and acted on her kindness.

She brushed a kiss across the baby's forehead. “I think you're right about her making a difference in people's lives. She's affected me as well, the little dear. I just hope Noelle's mother finds the help she needs. Whatever circumstances led her to giving up her baby, she has to be hurting right now.”

“I've been praying for her nonstop,” Shawn agreed. “We may not know where she is, but God does. He can help her in ways we never could.”

There was that tic again, only this time Heather narrowed her eyes on him. She was clearly scrutinizing him, but for what? What did she think she was going to see in his gaze?

Suddenly uncomfortable, he started to get to his feet, but Heather beat him to it, covering the distance between them in two steps and sliding Noelle into his arms. “I think she's going to sleep for a while, especially since she was so restless last night. If you can hold the baby and keep an eye on the kiddos for me, I'll go see if I can get our supper ready. The ham is probably done but I've got some side dishes to finish. In the meantime, let me pull out some appetizers. I've got a veggie snack tray and ranch dip in the refrigerator, or I can put together tortilla chips and some salsa if you'd prefer.”

Her queries were coming a mile a minute and though Shawn repeatedly tried to answer her rapid-fire questions, he couldn't get a word in edgewise. She appeared to be trembling—both physically and emotionally. He didn't have a clue what had caused this sudden alteration in her mood. Was it something he'd said?

If Heather was flustered, Shawn was now doubly so. All his pastoral training deserted him in a flash. Something about Heather set him off-kilter in a way visiting with his parishioners and hanging out with his neighbors normally did not.

He shifted Noelle so she rested on his shoulder, careful to keep a hand curled around her neck to give her extra support. Silently he took a mental step backward and scanned his recent conversation with Heather, filtering it for clues as to where he'd gone wrong. Somewhere along the way they'd taken a detour.

His reference to the Almighty was bothering her—of that much he was certain. Beyond that, he couldn't say, although he sensed it was more than just the one thing that had gotten her so upset. He made a mental note to back off speaking about anything religious for now, although he acknowledged that was going to be difficult for him to do.

It wasn't so much that he was a preacher with the deep desire to press his religion on everyone. The only truth he wanted to preach was how he lived his life. That was his faith message, much more so than the words he spoke. His real problem was that since he didn't have a family, his pastorate pretty much summed up his life. Try making nonreligious conversation over that. He didn't even have any notable hobbies to speak of, other than his ranch and the animals he kept, and he doubted the ins and outs of his pig-breeding program would interest her.

He belatedly realized she'd suddenly stopped hammering him with questions and glanced up to see her waiting with an expectant look on her face, one fist propped on the delicate curve of her hip as she waited for his response.

He cleared his throat and stared back up at her. He was absolutely lost. Heat started at the tips of his toes and crept all the way up to his ears. What had she been talking about?

Oh, yeah. Right. Food. Appetizers. Vegetables or chips.

“Either one would be fine,” he answered, stammering over his words. “Whatever works for you works for me. I'm easy. When I was a kid, my mama used to say I'd eat anything as long as it wasn't moving.”

She chuckled. “Well, I think I can promise you that.”

He swallowed, knowing he needed to acknowledge her teasing, but his amusement had dissipated the moment his mother's face flashed through his mind. Regret stabbed his gut, thinking of his mom—his dad.

And David.

Holidays were especially difficult for him, but he didn't like to dwell on it. He pressed the blackened, charred ruins of his family memories to the back of his thoughts and forced a smile for Heather's sake. “Whatever you and the kids would rather have.”

She nodded crisply. “I'll put the vegetable tray out, then. The kids all like the carrot sticks. Would you like me to turn a game on the television while you wait? I'll try not to turn the volume up too much so it doesn't wake Noelle, but I definitely want to hear what's happening, especially with the Texas game. I'm a die-hard Longhorn fan.”

“You like college football?”

“Doesn't everyone?” She sounded genuinely surprised. “I've been a fan since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Shawn didn't know why it shocked him to discover that about her, but it did. It wasn't as if Heather was the first woman who'd expressed an interest in football. He'd been to countless Super Bowl parties in mixed company. But Heather's voice held an excited, nearly fanatic died-in-the-wool tone, and he sensed a kindred spirit, college-football wise.

“I'm a Baylor fan, myself.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I'll forgive you this once. But only because I'm feeling especially generous, today being Christmas and all.”

They shared a laugh. Shawn felt better, and for the briefest moment, the tension in Heather's expression dissolved. He caught a glimpse of the true beauty in the woman, which until that moment had been hidden behind the mask of whatever burdens she silently carried. He didn't know what troubled her, but he knew those burdens were there. His breath caught as her hazel eyes, green irises shadowed with flames of burnt orange, locked with his. Her gaze shifted, turning anxious, and then he saw it all—those things of which she had not spoken.

Love. Loss. Pain.

His throat bobbed as he searched for words of comfort, anything to let her know that he got it. He might not know the details, but he didn't have to know what or who had hurt her to sympathize with her.

But before he could speak, the doorbell rang.

* * *

Heather's breath returned with a fevered gasp as the peal of the doorbell severed the magnetic draw of Shawn's gaze. Her adrenaline-shocked pulse hammered relentlessly as waves of panic washed through her. She closed her eyes and concentrated on evening out her breathing. Meanwhile, she fought the anger and resentment that rose to the surface, unwanted and uninvited, knowing stress would only make her reaction more pronounced. Fighting the anger, at the circumstances and at herself, was hard. She hated that she had no control over when and how these episodes occurred. Her panic attacks weren't always rational, nor were they necessarily based entirely on emotion. Sometimes they just appeared out of nowhere, for no good reason whatsoever. She'd been warned it might happen, yet she still couldn't get used to having such strong physical responses she couldn't control.

For the first time in many months, it wasn't initially or even primarily the doorbell that had startled her. She couldn't have been more stunned than she was to find the first thing that popped into her head when she closed her eyes wasn't the nightmare of being chased down by Adrian.

Confusion reigned, and she knew it showed outwardly in the flush of her cheeks. But how could she not be perplexed as she frantically sorted through her feelings? She was absolutely floored to find that among the myriad of emotions she was currently experiencing, fear was surprisingly low on the list.

When Shawn had looked at her, she felt as if he'd really
seen
her—glimpsed into her heart at the woman hiding deep within. That should have scared the socks off of her.

It hadn't. Shawn hadn't frightened her, at least not in the way she'd been accustomed to in the past. He'd thrown her for a loop. She suspected he'd seen more of her than she wanted, and that was cause for panic. But he hadn't frightened her.

What
had
happened? These days, she was always so careful not to let her guard down. Not ever. Most especially not with men. Shawn was a pastor, but that was hardly a recommendation to Heather. It certainly didn't procure any kind of confidence in him. She didn't trust church leaders as far as she could throw them. For all she knew, Shawn was the worst kind of charlatan, profiting off unsuspecting folks in the name of God.

And yet—there was something different about Shawn. There had been no judgment in his gaze, only compassion for whatever he read in her eyes. Not many men in Heather's life had ever bothered to look beyond the shell of her physical appearance. Any outward beauty she possessed was a curse, and the have-it-all-together woman she presented to the world was a counterfeit. She sensed that Shawn had not only seen that which she strove to keep hidden, but had somehow reached out to her and touched her inner person.

That rattled her more than any physical contact ever could.

“Don't move,” she snapped a little more harshly than she intended. “You've got the baby. I'll get the door.”

Relieved to be away from Shawn's probing gaze, she rushed forward and swung the front door open wide, forgetting even to check through the peephole to see who it might be. That
moment
with Shawn had shaken her up to the point where even her common sense had rocketed out of her reach. She supposed it was also possible that she wasn't as concerned over who was at the door because she was bolstered by Shawn's presence in the house, but she wasn't ready to go down that path, even if it was only in her mind. The last thing she needed or wanted was to be dependent on a man—for anything. And she would certainly never depend on a man to make her feel safe.

Besides, facts were facts. Adrian was in prison, and he was going to be in there for a good long time. She had nothing to fear, though her psyche sometimes forgot that. Maybe she was finally getting used to the truth. Maybe eventually she could put all her fear behind her and move on with her life.

“Merry Christmas, my dears,” Jo Spencer exclaimed the moment the door was opened. The stout redhead stepped inside the foyer without waiting to be invited. Her arms were laden with parcels—a plate of cookies and several festive gift bags.

“Comin' through,” shouted a scratchy voice from behind Jo as her husband, Frank, entered the house. “Jo brought me along to be her packhorse,” he grumbled. “Where do you want all this stuff?”

Like Jo, Frank had his arms full, mostly of canvas bags with the Sam's Grocery logo on it, filled with what seemed to be baked goods and baby clothes.

“Head straight back to the kitchen, Frank,” Heather instructed with a chuckle. She didn't take the least bit of offense to Frank's curtness. Few in Serendipity did. He was a lovable old man for all his guff. “I haven't set up the table for the meal yet, so you can place all your parcels there.”

“Chance and Phoebe told us to make sure to wish y'all a happy Christmas, as well,” Jo continued, ignoring her husband's griping. “Naturally all the stores around here are closed for the holiday, so we've got nothing new to offer you, but Phoebe dug through a few boxes of their baby things and managed to find a few pieces to help clothe Noelle. Nothing pink, I'm afraid, seeing as their youngest is a boy, but they found a few one-pieces and such in green and yellow that I think will do nicely.”

Heather's heart welled, as did the tears in her eyes. Her throat constricted, and she found herself at a loss for words.

Her nerves snapped to attention when Shawn's voice came from directly behind her. “That's very kind of y'all to think of us on Christmas day, and especially to go out of your way to help out baby Noelle.”

“Nothing exceptionally out-of-the-ordinarily kind about being neighborly,” Jo said, bustling around the table, removing a couple of glass casserole dishes and a cherry pie from the pile of bags. “Did you remember to grab the whipped cream, Frank?”

The old man snorted. “What do you think? You only reminded me about it three times before we left.”

“So in other words you're tellin' me you forgot it, then?” Jo chuckled and bussed Frank's scruffy cheek.

“No, old woman, I'm tellin' you that you're a nag.” He reached into one of the canvas bags and withdrew a large tub of whipped topping, then tossed it to Shawn without warning.

Heather was impressed by Shawn's quick reflexes. He caught the bucket easily with just one hand and with a single smooth move deposited it into the freezer.

“You see there, son?” Frank continued, wrapping an affectionate arm around Jo's ample waist. “You'd better be a hundred and ten percent certain before you go and tie the knot, 'cause this is what you'll have to put up with.”