“Joy? Are you all right?”
The smile overspreading her face should have told him everything, but he wanted—he needed—to hear her say it.
“Yes, my love. I am well—thanks be to God.”
O’Dell came closer. A tiny bundle lay in the crook of Joy’s arm.
“Our baby?”
“We have a son, Edmund.”
O’Dell reeled at the news. He plunked into a nearby chair. “We have a son!”
Joy laughed. Her laughter was full and free, filled with promise and with hope. With love.
“Come and see your son, Papa.”
O’Dell scooted the chair as close to the bed as he could, and Joy turned back the corner of the blanket. Within its folds lay a red, wrinkled little man, whose black eyes were wide—looking but not yet seeing, searching but not yet finding. The babe’s mouth opened a little, and he emitted a single squawk.
“What!” O’Dell was entranced. He stared at the tiny face with a hunger he’d never known.
“May I . . . May I hold him?”
“Of course.” Joy pushed herself up in the bed and lifted the baby with practiced ease. “Put out your arms, Papa Edmund. No, together. Like this.”
O’Dell received the blanketed bundle and was amazed at how light it was as it rested in his arms—and yet how shaky his arms were under its negligible weight. He leaned toward the child and studied him as he had never studied any human creature. “He is so . . .”
O’Dell could not find the right word. Sporting a flattened nose and a smattering of black hair on the top of his head, the infant was neither comely nor beautiful—not that O’Dell could boast of previous encounters with newborns. No, he had nary a single experience with which he might compare this one. And yet . . .
“Yes? He is so?”
“He is so . . .” Again O’Dell struggled to put into words how the ruddy, crinkled face and wizened dark eyes affected him.
O’Dell looked up and into Joy’s face. “He is a miracle.”
There. He had found the right word.
And it was the best, the most apt descriptor, for O’Dell was in awe.
Joy smiled her approval and caressed the dark hair that crowned the baby’s head. “What is our son’s name, Edmund? Oh, and Merry Christmas, my darling.”
O’Dell shook his head. “I beg your pardon?”
“It is Christmas morning, dearest. Our son is born on Christmas Day.”
“Christmas! I-I suppose I have been preoccupied.”
Joy’s laughter rang in the room and in his heart. “You have been preoccupied? That is rich.”
He grinned. “I take your point. So Christmas? His birthday will be Christmas?”
“Yes, Edmund. From here forward.”
“And our little miracle will require a name?”
“Um, yes. I believe it is customary to name one’s children.”
They laughed and O’Dell knew his heart had never been so full, so enriched and content. “My father’s name was Matthew. I did not know him well; he died when I was still a young lad. However, he was a good man—a good husband and father.”
“Ah! Matthew is a Biblical name meaning Gift of God. So, Matthew O’Dell?”
He tried it, too. “Matthew O’Dell. I like it. He is certainly our gift from God. What about a middle name?”
“I leave it to you, Edmund.”
O’Dell studied the babe in his arms. The child’s eyes had drifted closed, but in sleep, the babe’s little lips remained parted. His tiny chest rose and fell in a soft, regular rhythm.
Matthew. My son! Matthew O’Dell, I could watch you forever, O’Dell found to his surprise.
Ah, Lord! How I thank you for this great gift, this son.
O’Dell looked up at Joy. “Perhaps something from your side of the family?”
She nodded.
O’Dell looked at their son and then back at Joy. “What do you think of Matthew Thoresen O’Dell?”
Still smiling, Joy closed her eyes against the sting of sudden tears. She blinked away the moisture. “Thank you, Edmund.”
Her husband’s dark eyes studied Joy with an intensity that warmed her. He took her hand. “No, thank you, my darling Joy, for the most precious Christmas gift I have ever received.”
He placed their joined hands on the sleeping infant. “My son, you are Matthew Thoresen O’Dell—a gift to us from God, our Father. We commit to raise you well, nurturing you in the love and admonition of our Lord. May you know and serve the Savior all the days of your life. Amen.”
“Oh, amen! May it be so, Lord.”
The End
~~**~~
Books by Vikki Kestell
~*~
A Prairie Heritage
One family . . . steeped in the love and grace of God, indomitable in their faith, tried and tested in the fires of life, passing forward a legacy to change their world. The compelling saga of family, faith, and great courage.
Book 1: A Rose Blooms Twice
(A free eBook available from most online book retailers.)
Book 2: Wild Heart on the Prairie
Book 3: Joy on This Mountain
Book 4: The Captive Within
Book 5: Stolen
Book 6: Lost Are Found
Book 7: All God’s Promises
Book 8: The Heart of Joy (A Prairie Heritage Addendum)
Girls from the Mountain
Book 1: Tabitha
Book 2: Tory, November 2017
Nanostealth
Book 1: Stealthy Steps,
Book 2: Stealth Power
Book 3: Stealth Retribution
About Vikki
Vikki Kestell’s passion for people and their stories is evident in her readers’ affection for her characters and unusual plotlines. Two often-repeated sentiments are, “I feel like I know these people,” and “I am right there, in the book, experiencing what her characters experience.”
Vikki holds a Ph.D. in Organizational Learning and Instructional Technologies. She left a career of twenty-plus years in government, academia, and corporate life to pursue writing full time. “Writing is the best job ever,” she admits, “and the most demanding.”
Also an accomplished speaker and teacher, Vikki and her husband Conrad Smith make their home in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
To keep abreast of new book releases, sign up for Vikki’s newsletter on her website, connect with her on Facebook, or follow her on BookBub.
Faith-Filled Fiction™
http://www.faith-filledfiction.com/
http://www.vikkikestell.com/
The Heart of Joy: A Short Story (A Prairie Heritage Book 8) Page 8