Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for ChristmasHer Montana ChristmasAn Amish Christmas JourneyYuletide Baby

by Brenda Minton

  “I’ve named all my animals,” he admitted, wondering just how silly he must look to her. His ego shriveled. “I know that sounds kind of dumb, but it helps me keep them straight in my mind. Otherwise the goats just blend into a mass of spots and I don’t know who’s been fed and who’s still hungry. Although with the goats, they are always hungry.” He chuckled at his own joke.

  “I would imagine so,” she said, smothering a laugh with her palm. “I seem to recall our goats eating anything and everything. Grass. Clothing. Shoes.”

  “Right? The goats keep my grass nice and trimmed, but I’ve got to watch them or they get into mischief.”

  “Me feed Hammie?” Henry asked, lisping the words around the thumb he hadn’t bothered to remove from his mouth before he spoke. “Me do it. Me want to feed the piggy.” He’d gone from a simple “May I” question to downright insistence in less than one second.

  “Sure you can, big guy,” he said, trying to counter the sudden turning of Henry’s emotions. The boy looked as if he was about one step short of a tantrum. Shawn wasn’t quite sure what to do with a three-year-old, and he shifted his gaze to Heather for help.

  “It’s ‘May I,’” Heather corrected, her voice equal parts firm and soothing. “Missy, will you please allow Henry to have a turn?”

  Shawn prepared himself for Missy to have an equally volatile temper. Seeing the gentle way she cradled the piglet in her arms, he expected her to have some trouble sharing this experience, but the little girl immediately nodded.

  “Guess so,” she said, sounding only a little bit disappointed.

  “I’ll tell you what, Missy,” Shawn said, not liking the way his own heart dipped upon hearing the little girl’s reluctance to give up the task, “you and your foster brothers can come over to visit the piggies whenever your mama says it’s okay.”

  He helped the two children facilitate the transfer of the piglet and bottle between hands. Heather shifted sideways to come between Missy and Henry, ready to lend a hand if necessary. A whiff of roses reached Shawn’s nostrils, a startling contrast to the sharp tang of barn smells. He struggled not to lean in toward Heather and discover whether the scent was coming from her shampoo or her perfume. Either way, it knocked his socks off. Way better than the smell of horses.

  “Jacob?” He didn’t want to press the boy, but he also didn’t want him to feel left out. “If you’d like a turn then you’re up next, after Henry.”

  Jacob grunted and shook his dark head. “That’s okay. I don’t want to.” He scowled, and for a moment Shawn thought he was about to let loose on all cannons. Then he shrugged and turned away from the adults. “No, really. Let Missy and Henry feed it. No big deal.”

  Jacob sounded as if he wasn’t having any fun at all, and Shawn’s heart gave a little tug for the boy, who not only carried wisdom beyond his years in his gaze but also had to step up to the plate for his younger “siblings,” displaying a maturity quite remarkable for his age.

  “I can see what a good foster brother you are, looking out for Missy and Henry all the time,” Shawn said, laying a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “Your mama must be very proud of you.”

  Jacob shrugged his hand away, trying to look as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other what anyone thought, but when he shook his dark hair back, Shawn could see his blue eyes were alight with pleasure from the commendation.

  “I depend on Jacob for the big jobs,” Heather assured him.

  The boy stubbed his toe into the ground, his hair falling across his forehead.

  “He’s the regular man of the house. I couldn’t do without him.”

  Shawn didn’t have to be particularly observant to see how much Heather’s praise meant to Jacob. Pride was flashing there in his eyes for everyone to see. His shoulders straightened and he stood up a good inch taller, his gaze full of strength and determination. He was the man of the house.

  Shawn grinned, but he was sad for Heather. Jacob was a good boy, but he was nine. He couldn’t be protector and provider for her or his younger foster siblings, and he shouldn’t have to be. Shawn understood more than most the weight of responsibility that came with caring for a sibling. He wondered how Heather carried such a burden, and if she sought God for help. Even if her relationship with the Lord was rock-solid, being a single foster mother to three children would be tough for any woman.

  “Got to watch over the little ones,” Jacob stated with a resolute nod. “Otherwise they won’t have anyone.”

  Heather absently brushed Jacob’s black hair off his forehead with her fingertips. “See? That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re a good boy, and you know better than anybody that you kids need to stick together. I’m so proud of you, Jacob. You children mean everything to me.” She sniffed, and Shawn thought she might have brushed a tear aside with a casual flick of her hand.

  Jacob colored and made a big production out of stooping down to pet Queenie, who barked with a high-pitched yap that startled Noelle. Shawn gently bounced her with the palm of his hand, coaxing her back to sleep. Queenie nipped at the boy’s heels with the natural instinct of a herding breed. Shawn noted the glassy appearance of Jacob’s eyes, and he hid his smile. Heather was clearly not the only one sniffling over the emotional discourse. Even Shawn’s throat felt a little rough with emotion.

  Time to take the conversation in a new direction. The last thing Shawn wanted was for Heather to burst into tears. Even in his pastoral duties, he never had been good at handling a crying woman. And she wasn’t the only one he was worried about.

  He well remembered what it was like to be nine years old and having to man-up against his father’s perpetual drunkenness and his mother’s absence from his life. He knew the last thing a young boy like Jacob would want would be to be caught with tears in his eyes, especially since Heather had just singled him out as being the man of the house. At least with Jacob that title was an honor and not a curse.

  “You know, it sounds like I’m the exact opposite of you.” Shawn pulled Heather’s attention toward him so Jacob would get the heat taken off him and have a moment to pull himself together.

  Henry’s attention had already wavered, and the piglet rolled out of his lap and onto the hay. Missy had wandered off to follow Jacob and Queenie, leaving poor Hammie to squeal and squirm.

  “Really? How’s that?” Heather asked, taking pity on the piglet. She scooped it up and cradled it in her arms, much as she did when she was holding Noelle. The woman had nurturer written all over her, from her body language to her expression to the soft, sweet gaze in her eyes.

  “This baby pig is outright adorable,” she commented. “Look at him. He’s wagging his little tail just like a happy puppy.”

  He’d mistakenly thought she wouldn’t want a turn holding Hammie, seeing as she was so skittish around the barn. She wouldn’t even put her knees into the hay—and yet she was willing to cradle a pig?

  Shawn didn’t understand women, and he was especially thick where Heather was concerned, but he was happy to relieve Henry of the bottle and pass it to her, especially since Henry was now completely distracted and caught up playing with Queenie, just as the other children were.

  “We were discussing ranch chores before,” he explained. “You mentioned you never much liked the early-morning rooster calls and the need to get up and milk the cow, whereas I’ve always found great solace in taking care of the animals. Granted, I didn’t enjoy mucking stalls any better than any other boy or girl of my acquaintance,” he said, gently adjusting the angle of the bottle in Heather’s hand so Hammie had better access to it. Babies and pigs were slightly different in that respect. “But I didn’t mind getting up in the early hours. I still rise before the sun—and probably would even if I didn’t have stock to attend to.”

  It was true that he hadn’t ever talked to his animals the way Heather apparently had as a teen—not out loud, at any rate—but he suspected more than one of the cows and horses from his childhood had known the secret pain of hi
s teenage heart. Hadn’t he spent many hours in the saddle as a child trying to escape the reality of his life? “I’ve always found it rather peaceful, out there all alone in the barn, just me and the animals. You know?”

  He paused, shook his head and laughed at himself. “What am I saying? Of course you know—from personal experience. Like I said, we’re opposites.”

  “We may not be as different as you think. Granted, there are things I’d rather be doing at that time of day,” she acknowledged. “Like catching some extra z’s, for example.” Her lips tipped up at the corners, but amusement didn’t quite reach her gaze. “It wasn’t that I hated it, exactly. I’ll admit there’s something to be said about having had regular chores growing up. Ranch work taught me responsibility at an early age, which is never a bad thing. And I learned that sometimes it was necessary to perform my duties even on those days when I wasn’t real keen on it. Those lessons have served me in good stead now that I have to work for a living. You can’t exactly call your boss and tell him you don’t want to go to work today because it’s too early and you don’t feel like it, right? I work at home as a virtual assistant, so some days I have even more of a challenge motivating myself to get the job done. And that’s before getting into what’s involved in being Mama to these busy, energetic children. They don’t ever take a day off. I definitely can’t decide to walk away from my obligations with them, nor would I want to.”

  Her gaze shifted back to Jacob and the corners of her lips dropped into a frown. “Perhaps I should have given the idea of buying a ranch more than a passing thought when I moved back to Serendipity. It occurred to me, but I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. My little house is relatively easy to keep clean, or at least as neat as a home with three children can be, but it would have been nice to have something more physical to offer my kids, especially Jacob. I think he could use something challenging to dig into. He’s got so much energy, and I’d like for him to have something positive and constructive to do with his free time.”

  A thought occurred to him, but he wanted to be able to discuss it with Heather before sharing it in front of the children. He wanted to offer her the opportunity to bring the kids over on a regular basis to interact with the animals and learn ranching skills—if the idea appealed to Heather.

  “Kids, I’ve also got kittens. Two doors that direction,” he said, pointing to a corner on the other side of the barn. “Little gray tabbies. Only a couple of weeks old. You ought to go take a look.”

  “Look, but don’t touch,” Heather amended. Shawn appreciated how she was always on top of the parenting thing. He wasn’t certain he had that same ability. Observing Heather at work was better than a college course in parenting skills.

  Jacob took Henry’s and Missy’s hands and led the way across the barn to where Shawn had indicated. He smiled when he heard their mutual exclamations of delight. Even Jacob sounded excited at the furry find.

  Heather smiled, as well. Still in a crouch, she shifted her weight so Hammie was more safely entrenched in her arms, then lost her balance and fell forward onto her knees in the hay. A lock of her glossy brown hair escaped from the low clasp of her ponytail and fell over her forehead. Her arms were full trying to restrain the wiggling piglet, so she tweaked her chin and blew at the stubborn strand in an unsuccessful attempt to get it out of her eyes.

  Without pausing to give it any real thought, Shawn reached forward to brush her hair behind her ear for her. His fingertips barely grazed her temple, but she tossed the bottle and jerked backward as if he’d physically slapped her, her heels raising dust and hay from the ground. She lost her air in an audible huff when her bottom hit the solid floor of the stable. Hammie squealed and squirmed out of her grasp.

  “I’m so sorry. I—” Shawn stammered. Heat rose to his cheeks as he scrambled to his feet and reached for the woman sprawled across the hay in an undignified heap with one hand, cradling Noelle with the other. His arms and his expression pleaded with Heather. “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to—”

  Heather shook her head violently and scuttled backward until her back met the stable door. She inhaled again, another audibly terrified sweep of air. Her hazel eyes were wide and glassy. She was staring straight at him, but it was almost as if she were looking through him. Shawn had the distinct impression it wasn’t his face she was seeing.

  His breath felt glued to the inside of his lungs and anxiety banded around his chest.

  Lord, help me. What had he done?

  She reminded him of a frightened doe cornered by a mountain lion. That he was the mountain lion in this scenario made him sick to his stomach. She was frozen in place and yet visibly quivering, ruffling Shawn to the core of his being.

  He became intensely aware of his every movement, afraid he was going to make things worse. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender so she would recognize he was no threat to her. He waited silently as she visibly took control of her thoughts and her breathing. Gradually, the bright beacons of alarm faded from her gaze. Slowly, she released her clenched fists and uncoiled herself from her defensive position, wobbling slightly as she regained her feet. She snatched Hammie from the floor and held him close to her heart, whispering comforting nonsense syllables to the tiny, wiggling piglet. Shawn suspected the reassurance was more for her than it was for the pig.

  He searched his mind for the right thing to say but came up blank. He sensed that they were at a defining moment in their dubious friendship.

  If he said the wrong thing now, she’d be out of his life so fast his head would spin. And then where would he be? As selfish as it sounded, he was absolutely positive he wouldn’t be able to be a good foster father to Noelle without Heather’s assistance.

  But never mind how it might affect him. His primary concern right now was how Heather was feeling. What had happened in her past to make her have that marked and painful of a reaction to his touch?

  And how could he help?

  Whatever it was, it must have been horrible. It had to have been a man who had hurt her at some point. Fury rose in Shawn’s chest. He wanted to grab whoever had done this to her by the collar and shake him senseless. Tension rippled through his body, and he had to force himself to relax and not clench his fists.

  Deeply aware of how any violence in his actions would look to her, he jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, waiting for her to make the first move. He was glad the children were two stable doors down so they weren’t witnessing their foster mother’s distress. He was certain they would have picked up on the fact that she was shaken to the core. Kids were sensitive that way.

  “I, um—” Her voice wobbled. She ran a hand down her face, then pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I imagine you’re probably wondering why I completely freaked out on you just now.”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” he corrected gently.

  “No? What would you call it, then? I just made a complete and total spectacle of myself in front of you. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

  “Heather.” How could he comfort her without touching her? “I don’t want you to worry about me. You have absolutely no reason to feel embarrassed. None whatsoever. I’m not judging you at all—I promise. I care. I really do.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. He stood absolutely stock-still as she cautiously took his measure. After an extended pause, she nodded and then reached a tentative hand toward his forearm. Her fingers quivered and she tightened her grip. “You’re right. I know this about you. I do.”

  “You know…what about me?” he asked, not certain he was following her train of thought. In fact, he knew he wasn’t keeping up to the recoil of her emotions. She’d gone from scrambling away from him to resolutely touching him. “I don’t, um— That is—”

  Stammering was not helping this situation, but he felt as if his tongue was in knots. Deep down, he experienced an agonizing physical yearning to wrap his arms
around her and protect her from whatever it was that had her so rattled. It took every bit of his strength of will not to do so, and only because he knew that would be the absolute worst possible move he could make right now.

  His mere touch had her both physically and emotionally somersaulting away from him. If he tried to hold her in his arms—well, that would only make things worse. He wasn’t going to do that to her. He wouldn’t do that to anyone, but Heather wasn’t just anyone. He couldn’t explain it any more than he could explain where his faith in God came from, but he felt differently about Heather than any of the other women of his acquaintance, present or past. She was special, somehow, and he was attracted to her. But she was a package deal, three kids included.

  Which was all the more reason for him to be mindful of his actions. He needed to tread extra carefully where Heather was concerned. He was hardly adequate as a foster father to Noelle. He’d never measure up to the challenge of three more needy children. They deserved an experienced hand to guide them, and he was not it.

  Her eyes dropped to the piglet in her arms. “You don’t understand why I’m acting so skittish,” she finished for him.

  He shrugged and bent his head until he could capture her gaze once again. “I’m a good listener.”

  “Right. Because you’re a pastor.”

  “No. That’s not why. Or at least, that’s not all of it.” How could he explain that his reaction to her distress had less to do with him being a pastor and a great deal more with him being a man? If he tried to convey that his feelings at the moment went beyond Christian charity, he was fairly certain he would send her running for the hills as fast as her legs could carry her. Yet he knew conversations about faith made her uncomfortable. If she felt that he was only there for her as a spiritual leader, he knew instinctively that she would clam up rather than explain her problems and fears to him.

  He didn’t know how much she would actually share with him, if anything, but the barn was hardly the place for a serious conversation. Much better that he invite her back up to the house, where she could sip a cup of coffee and compose herself.