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

by Brenda Minton

  This time she was the one who needed his help. She pressed his number and waited, her breath in a knot.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Heather. Are you and the kids going to meet me at the ranch later to help me feed the animals?”

  “Missy had an accident,” she said, cutting right to the chase. “She hit her head and she’s got a big gash on her forehead. I tried using direct pressure, but I can’t seem to get it to stop bleeding.”

  “It probably needs stitches,” Shawn surmised. “But don’t worry, honey. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s serious.”

  “I know you’re right, but it looks awful.”

  “I’m at the church now. Get the kids buckled up in your SUV and I’ll be right there. I’ll drive you to see Delia.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t even had to ask for his help. She’d simply shared her problem, and that was enough to prompt him into action on her behalf.

  Now was not the time to wonder why calling Shawn had been her first impulse after she realized she didn’t have the doctor’s number.

  “Jacob, grab your coat, and get Henry’s while you’re at it. Just to be on the safe side, we’re going to take your sister to the doctor.”

  The boy nodded and ran for the jackets. Heather wrapped Missy in a quilt and continued to apply direct pressure to the girl’s forehead as she led the kids outside to her SUV.

  “Jacob, why don’t you sit in front? Pastor Shawn is coming to drive us over to the doctor’s office. I’m going to sit back here with Henry and Missy, okay?”

  It was only after she’d managed to get Henry buckled into his booster seat that she realized she needed to make room for Noelle, but when Shawn arrived a few moments later, he was alone.

  “Where’s the baby?” she asked as Shawn climbed behind the wheel.

  “Jo Spencer has her. Apparently ‘Auntie Jo’ wants to show her off to all of her customers today.”

  Heather expected that statement to be accompanied by one of Shawn’s frequent and heart-stopping grins, so she was surprised when the corners of his lips turned down. That wasn’t like him.

  “How’s our little patient doing?” he asked, glancing in the rearview mirror as he started the engine.

  Hmm. Maybe that was all it was. He was worried about Missy. But something niggled in the back of Heather’s mind, and her gut feeling was that there was more he wasn’t saying.

  “It’s quite a large gash. The bleeding has slowed some but it hasn’t stopped yet. She’ll probably have a nice scar to remember this day by.”

  “How’d it happen?”

  “Certain little monkeys were jumping on the bed when they weren’t supposed to be.”

  “And one fell down and bumped her head,” Shawn added.

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s why you need to listen to your mama, kids,” he admonished. “She knows what she’s talking about, and she’s trying to keep you safe.”

  “Now you sound like a preacher,” she teased, and the back of his neck grew red. “Or a father.”

  He shot a look over his shoulder that Heather had a hard time identifying. Almost as if she’d—well, not insulted him, exactly, but definitely called him a name he didn’t want to hear.

  Which was what? Preacher? Father?

  Nothing new there. No startling revelations. Shawn was both pastor and parent.

  Shawn pulled the vehicle up in front of Delia’s office before she had the opportunity to question him about his odd reactions. He was out and around the vehicle, opening the door for her before she’d even had the opportunity to get unbuckled.

  “Come on, little lady,” he said, scooping Missy into his arms, careful to keep her wound covered. “Let’s go see Dr. Delia and get you all patched up.” He was incredibly gentle for a man his size, and once again Heather marveled at his kindness.

  And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Missy gazed up at Shawn as if he were her knight in shining armor. In a way, Heather supposed he was, quick to come to their rescue when she’d called him.

  Missy reached up and placed her little palm on Shawn’s whisker-roughened cheek, and Heather’s chest could barely restrain the swelling emotion. Such an innocent display of love and trust—and Shawn, she knew, wouldn’t betray that trust. Ever.

  Delia greeted them at the door and immediately ushered them to the back room, where she instructed Shawn to place Missy on the nearest bed. She made quick work of examining the girl. Shawn didn’t leave Missy’s side, and the little girl clutched his hand.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Delia assured them. “No signs of a concussion, and the wound itself is superficial. I’ll clean it up and we’ll use some glue and a butterfly bandage to seal it up tight.”

  “I like butterflies,” Missy inserted, looking hopeful.

  Delia laughed. “Well, Missy, I’m afraid the bandage isn’t actually a butterfly, but I’ll bet I have some princess stickers around here somewhere.”

  Missy’s excitement immediately turned to fear when Delia dabbed the wound with an alcohol swab.

  “It hurts. It hurts,” she wailed, fresh tears brimming in her bright green eyes.

  Heather hated this part of motherhood—the part where she had to put on a brave face for her children when she was quaking inside. Shawn, however, didn’t flinch.

  “I know it hurts, darlin’,” Shawn told the girl, pressing his palm against her cheek. He didn’t try to dismiss her pain or marginalize her fear. No wonder he was such a good pastor. “You’re being such a brave girl. I think cookies are called for after this, don’t you? Just let Dr. Delia get you all glued up and I’ll take you over to Cup O’ Jo’s for a treat. All of you,” he added, his eyes on Jacob.

  Heather wanted to hug him for including the boy, who was still huddled in on himself in guilt. She probably would have launched herself at Shawn, if it weren’t for Delia being in the room.

  The doctor worked quickly, cleaning and gluing the wound, then covering it with gauze and tape. “Keep the wound clean with soap and water,” she advised, “and call me if you see any signs of infection—redness around the gash or oozing from the wound. Otherwise, come back in a week for a quick follow-up.”

  Delia allowed each of the kids to pick out a sticker from a bucketful of choices, but she allowed Missy to have three, since the little girl couldn’t choose between princesses. She liked them all, so she got them all.

  Heather was relieved that Missy was all patched up and the accident had resulted in nothing more than a gash that could be fixed with a little glue. Missy seemed to have forgotten that she’d been the one on the doctor’s table at all. She was the first one out the door, racing down the clapboard sidewalk with her brothers right behind her, heading toward Cup O’ Jo’s on the corner.

  The only one who looked as if he’d been negatively impacted by the day’s events was Shawn. As long as he’d been in Missy’s line of sight, he’d been all smiles and strength, but now he looked as if he’d swallowed something bitter and was fighting to keep it down.

  She followed Shawn out of the doctor’s office and couldn’t help but admire the view of the cowboy preacher replacing his straw hat and loping along after the children, but she wondered at his distracted mood. She caught up with him and laced her arm through his, half expecting resistance. He glanced at her, surprise evident in his gaze, but he slid his hand over hers and slowed to match her pace.

  “No more monkeys jumping on the bed,” he teased, but his attempt at a smile was faltering at best.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” She applied pressure to his arm, stopping him before he could enter the café.

  “I—” he started, then stopped and shook his head. “No. It’s nothing. The kids are waiting for their cookies, and I’m sure Jo is plenty ready to be done with baby duty. She’s had Noelle all day.”

  Heather highly doubted the truth of that statement. Jo Spencer
loved babies above all things. She wouldn’t be in any great hurry to part with darling Noelle. But Heather knew a brush-off when she heard it, so she reluctantly turned loose of his arm and allowed him to enter the café.

  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.