Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (66 page)

Jo looked up from the register when the bell rang over the door and bustled out to greet them, her red curls bobbing with the same energy that radiated from her friendly smile. There was no sign of Noelle, but with Jo at the helm, there was no immediate cause for concern. Curiosity, perhaps, but not concern.

“Now, Pastor, I told you it wouldn't be a problem for me to drop Noelle by the church when I was finished with her.”

Shawn swept off his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. “I was afraid if I waited until you tired of her you might not ever give her back. Besides, we were just down the road from here.”

“We?” Jo's gaze flitted from Shawn to Heather and a wide smile spread across her face. “Ah. I see. I'm glad you two are spending time together.”

Heather's face suffused with heat. Jo was jumping to all the wrong conclusions here. She'd just as much as proclaimed loud enough for half the restaurant to hear that she was seeing a couple where there were actually two single individuals with a brood of foster children between them.

“You all out for a day at the park or something?” Jo laughed as Henry pressed his nose and palms flush against the glass of the pastry case. “Looks like somebody is hungry for a cookie.”

“I promised them a treat,” Shawn said.

“We've just come from Dr. Delia's office,” Heather explained. “Missy fell and hurt herself. Got a little gash on the head.”

“Poor dear. Is she okay?”

“Delia glued the cut,” Shawn said, his tone incredulous. “I didn't realize doctors don't sew you up with stitches anymore—at least not with a wound like this. Delia said she might end up with a small scar from this little incident, but three princess stickers and the promise of a cookie and I think she's forgotten her big owie already.” He barked out a dry laugh. “Kids. What are you going to do with them? What kind of cookies did Phoebe bake today?”

“Chocolate with chocolate chips,” Jo said, reaching in to retrieve the cookies. She removed five rather than three, and after handing out the treats to the kids, she offered the remaining cookies to Heather and Shawn. “Trust me, y'all don't want to miss these, and you two look like you could use a little pick-me-up. Chocolate cures all ills, you know.”

Heather glanced at Shawn. A muscle ticked in the corner of his jaw and his mouth tightened with strain. She doubted chocolate would do anything to help what was ailing him—whatever it was.

“I'm a little remiss not to have asked where Noelle might be,” Shawn said, scanning the café for his foster daughter.

Heather followed the trail of his gaze. The inside of Cup O' Jo would come as a surprise to anyone not formerly acquainted with it. The café, like all of the buildings on Main Street, had a nineteenth-century feel to its exterior, like something straight out of an old Western movie. Cup O' Jo's even boasted a hitching post out front.

But the inside of the café was a different ambiance altogether. Open and friendly, it was decorated in a contemporary, modern-coffee-shop style. Individuals hunkered over the computers lining the back walls. Several families and small groups enjoyed an early dinner. It was
the
popular spot for folks to gather in Serendipity. Chance Hawkins served up the best home-style food in Texas.

Jo threw her hands up and cackled in delight. “Why, I can't get that baby out of the back room. Chance and Phoebe are so taken with her I wouldn't be surprised if they decided it was time to start working on growing their own family again. Let me get them for you.”

She hustled to the serving window and leaned her head and shoulders into the kitchen. “Chance. Phoebe,” she hollered, making Heather laugh. With Jo's voice she could have stayed right where she was. She didn't need to be at the serving window to be heard. “Pastor Shawn is here for his daughter.”

It warmed Heather's heart to hear Noelle referred to as Shawn's daughter, but Shawn didn't look altogether pleased by the reference. The crease between his eyes deepened.

Phoebe, brandishing a spatula in one hand, was the first out of the kitchen. Her blue jeans and light green pullover were dusted with flour, and she had a wide streak of white on her nose, as if someone had purposefully dabbed it there. She was quickly followed by Chance, a rugged-looking cowboy with a white apron draped haphazardly around his waist. He held the baby in the crook of his arm and was murmuring nonsense to her. She clutched his thumb and kicked at her swaddling.

“She's a strong little thing,” Chance said as he deposited her into her foster father's arms. “I bet she'll be a real handful when she gets a little older—and you probably don't even want to think about her teenage years. Sweet darlin'. You're gonna be needing a baseball bat to fend off all the boys.”

Shawn blanched, but no one other than Heather appeared to notice that, or the tightening of his jaw.

“It's hard to believe Aaron was ever that small,” Phoebe said of her now school-aged son. “And Lucy is graduating from college this year.”

“We're getting old,” Chance teased, his dark eyes gleaming as he brushed Phoebe's hair in a familiar, affectionate caress.

Squealing, she wriggled away from him and wielded her spatula like a weapon. “Speak for yourself, mister. I've got a few good years in me yet.”

“All right, then, I guess I'll hold off on trading you in for two twenties.”

“Take that back, you!” Phoebe swatted at Chance, who easily ducked out of the way.

“Make me,” he said, laughing and dodging around her.

Phoebe perched her hands on her hips. “Don't tempt me. You know I can.”

Chance grinned at Shawn. “You see what I have to put up with, Pastor?” He nodded toward Heather and winked. “So much to look forward to, you know?”

“I don't see you wearing any chains around your neck forcing you to stay,” Jo admonished her grinning nephew. “You wouldn't change a single thing about your life with Phoebe and you know it.”

“No, ma'am, I wouldn't, and that's a fact.”

“There, then, you see?” Jo crowed, delighted that the conversation had turned in her favor. “The married state is a great place to be, no question about it.”

Once again, heat flared to Heather's face. Subtlety definitely wasn't one of Jo's prime virtues. Shawn's flushed cheeks signaled that he hadn't missed the not-so-delicate intimation, either.

“I've got to be going,” he said, backing toward the door.

“But you came in my car,” Heather protested.

“I'll walk. My truck is at the chapel, along with Noelle's car seat. See y'all in church on Sunday.” He planted his hat on his head and tipped it, then was gone without another word.

“Well,” said Jo as the four of them stood staring at the empty doorway.

Well
, indeed. That was beyond awkward. Heather felt as if she needed to say something to explain Shawn's odd behavior, but how could she when she didn't understand it herself? Who knew what ran through a man's mind?

Clearly something was stuck in his craw. The only question was
what
?

Or maybe
who
?

Had she inadvertently done something to offend him?

The familiar sensation of panic trickled down her spine before she mindfully pressed it away. Shawn wasn't the kind of guy to react spitefully. If he had a problem with her, he would talk to her about it, not hold it over her head and leave her wondering.

As if intruding on a private moment, Chance and Phoebe awkwardly excused themselves to return to the kitchen. No doubt they felt the tension in the air, so thick a person could slice it with a knife.

Heather tried for a smile and missed the mark by a mile. “I ought to be going, as well. Let me just round up my kids and we'll be out of here. Oh.” She suddenly remembered Shawn had not paid for the cookies. “How much do I owe you for the treats?”

She reached for her wallet but Jo waved her away. “Don't you dare even think about it, dear. The cookies are on me. Poor Missy deserves a little TLC after having such a scary day. Besides, my dear,” she said, nodding toward the door where Shawn had just made his rather overdramatic exit, “I think you have more pressing matters to deal with.”

“Yes, I certainly do.” Heather didn't question why Shawn's odd behavior would be her problem. He was always there for her when she needed him, so how could she not step forward when he needed help? First, she needed to figure out what to do with her kids, and then she'd find a way to help Shawn.

“Let me feed the children a good meal for you,” Jo suggested, almost as if she'd known the direction Heather's thoughts would be taking. She gave Heather a friendly pat on the back and turned her toward the door. “Go. Don't worry about your young'uns, they'll be happy as little larks here at the café. Take care of your man. I think he needs you right now.”

Heather wasn't worried about her children as long as they were in Jo's care. Shawn wasn't her man, but she didn't bother to correct Jo.

Because she agreed with her on the most important point of all.

Shawn needed her.

And she would be there for him.

* * *

After leaving Cup O' Jo's, Shawn didn't bother returning home right away. It was tempting to return to the ranch. His first inclination under stress was to go out riding. Sitting in the saddle and cantering across fields was his favorite form of prayer. But he had the baby to think of, and he still had a sermon to finish, so he went back to the chapel instead.

After the great deal of excitement he imagined Noelle must have had being passed around to all his doting neighbors, he figured with a diaper change and a bottle she'd be down for the count, and he was right. In less than ten minutes the baby was sound asleep. He settled her in her car seat, which he often used to haul Noelle around with him both inside the building and in his dual-cab truck.

His unfinished sermon, scribbled on a yellow legal pad, was taunting him, but after sitting at his desk for five minutes without writing a single word, he gave up. He couldn't keep his mind on his message—he couldn't even get it there in the first place.

He needed to refocus or else he wasn't going to have two words to share with his congregation come Sunday morning. Scooping up Noelle's infant seat, he carried her into the sanctuary, where he flipped on only enough lights to illuminate the altar. He approached and knelt reverently, his gaze lingering first on the cross and then on the sleeping baby.

Had it only been a few weeks ago that this sweet little darlin' had come into his life? Right here, in this very sanctuary, his world had been forever changed. By Noelle, and by the woman who'd come to his and the baby's rescue—Heather Lewis.

He remembered how helpless he'd felt when he'd heard Noelle cry for the first time. Now that he'd been with her for a while, he could distinguish between her cries—whether she was wet, hungry or just needing a little attention.

And hurry up with that bottle, Foster Daddy.

The smile that had claimed his lips when he regarded his baby girl disappeared when he thought about the future. He'd received a troubling phone call earlier in the day, just before the one from Heather that had sent him rushing off to help the family.

The news had him all in knots. Then all that combined with the incredibly helpless feelings he'd experienced at not being able to do anything to fix Missy's injury, other than taking her to the doctor. He hated feeling as if he couldn't do anything to help.

He was a mess, and the only thing he could think of to do was to give it all to the Lord and seek His guidance. How could he lead his congregation into faith and good works if he was struggling just to plant one foot in front of the other? This was getting way beyond him. Maybe he ought to step down for a while or take a sabbatical, do a little cow-poking and spend some time on the range, under the stars.

What did God want of him?

“I'm listening,” he said aloud, acknowledging his need for the Almighty.

“Good, because I'm fairly certain I have something to say.”

Shawn jerked to his feet, his heart hammering. He'd thought he was alone in the chapel. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the glare created by the lights above the altar, but he couldn't see into the shadows.

Yet he didn't need to see to know who was there. He recognized that rich, warm feminine voice almost as well as his own.

“I didn't expect an answer,” he said with a chuckle.

“No, I don't suppose you did. I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“That's okay. I'll live. Did you need something, Heather? Has something happened with Missy?”

“Missy is fine. She's taking supper with the boys and Jo Spencer.”

Shawn cast about for a reason Heather might be here at the church but came up empty. The only time he'd ever seen her in the chapel was the night he'd discovered Noelle. He'd gathered from talking to her that church wasn't really her thing—thanks at least in part to Adrian. So it was unlikely she'd dropped by to pray.

“The doors of the church are always open,” he said, sweeping his arm out in a welcoming gesture. What else could he say?

His statement was met with a dry laugh. “Funny you should say that.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I have this thing about churches. You can probably chalk it up to one of those doesn't-make-any-sense emotions, like many of the others I'm slowly working my way through. Feel free to laugh at me if you'd like.”

How could he possibly make fun of her for her confusion when his own thoughts and emotions were so ruffled?

“You know I won't do that. Go on.”

“It's another by-product of my time with Adrian. I'm slowly working on my own personal relationship with God, but for some reason church buildings continue to give me pause. I must have stood outside for five minutes trying to talk myself into the courage to come into the chapel tonight.”