A Snowy Delivery For Christmas (Ornamental Match Maker Series Book 20)

by Marisa Masterson

  Pathetic wails from the crate caused her to shout Mrs. Klaussen’s name. Still, no one opened the door. As she stood in front of it, Josephine shivered at the cold that seeped from beneath it. Were the windows open in Mrs. Klaussen’s rooms also?

  A face peered down at her and a deep voice called her name. She swung her head upward to see Mr. Peale leaning over the banister. Taking a step away from the closed door to see him better, Josephine opened her mouth to ask him about the Klaussens. The sharp protest from the box cut off her words.

  “What made that noise? Sounds like a kitten being strangled.” In the dim light of the hallway, she made out his raised eyebrows. Her teeth chattered now and made an answer difficult. “I f-f-found th-th-the—”

  Holding up a hand, he stopped her explanation. Leaping down the steps two at a time, the long-legged man raced down to the box. His muttering made no sense.

  “This explains the gift. How did she know I’d need them? I can’t figure that out.” He paused and looked to Josephine for an answer. She shivered and shrugged her shoulders, confused by his rambling. “Doesn’t matter. I’m glad I have them. Earlier I thought Mrs. Klaussen had lost her mind. Now—” He smiled with satisfaction and Josephine’s stomach tingled in that odd way it did whenever Mr. Peale threw a kind word in her direction.

  Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the fur lapels. The fog of her breath hung in the air. “Wh-why is it so c-c-cold?” she managed to get out.

  Peale scrunched his forehead before speaking. “Must be something wrong with the furnace. Mr. Klaussen calls it Old Faithful. Hope I won’t have to rename it tonight.”

  Lifting the loud baby, box and all, he climbed the stairs slowly. As cold as she was, Josephine still grinned at the contrast to his fast descent moments before. When he reached the top step, his confused voice reached her. “Come on. We need to take care of this noisy guest.”

  He was inviting her into his rooms! Thrill and a feeling of decadence raced through her at the thought. Control yourself. He’s taking care of a baby, not seducing you!

  By the time she reached his floor, Josephine glimpsed Mr. Peale disappear into the second door on the right side of the hall. She moved to stand at the door, peeking inside.

  “You have your own bathroom?” The sight of gleaming white porcelain caused her mouth to gape. While it was only a toilet and sink, the thought of more than one washroom in a house boggled her mind.

  He grinned at her as he left the room carrying a small stack of towels topped by a washcloth. “The previous landlady allowed me to put it in, as long as I paid for it. Beats keeping a pot under the bed.”

  Her face reddened at his reference to a chamber pot. She’d never heard anyone speak quite this boldly about bodily functions. Ducking her head, she hoped her lack of response would end the conversation.

  Shoving the towels at her, he carried the peach crate through another door. She followed him into a small kitchen. It also had a white porcelain sink, this one with a larger tub and a section molded into the metal for draining dishes. On the counter, a small hot plate sat next to a dull silver teapot.

  “Put the kettle on and make a cup of tea to warm you up. I can still hear your teeth chattering.” He ran water over his hands. After a few moments, he gave a satisfied grunt and filled the basin he held.

  Grabbing a bar of soap, he placed it on the table next to the basin. “Now to unwrap our visitor.”

  Pulling back the stained towels, careful hands lifted out the small infant. It blinked unfocused eyes. With a gasp, Josephine exclaimed, “I’ve never seen such a tiny baby!”

  Mr. Peale frowned. “It does look like this one came a bit early. See the coating of white still on her skin in spots. My brother had that when he was born. He was an early baby, too.”

  The naked baby shivered as the man and woman stared. Mr. Peale carefully moved her to the basin and immersed her legs and bottom into warm water. The pitiful cries stopped and the infant stiffened in shock.

  “Shouldn’t you put more of her into the water?” Josephine expected him to at least lower the baby until her shoulders were in the water.

  He shook his head. “See that stump tied with string on her tummy. That’s her cord and it can’t get wet. It needs to dry up so she can form a belly button.”

  The cord looked wet, confusing her. “Why does it seem so moist if it’s supposed to dry up?”

  Holding up the baby’s head with one hand, Mr. Peale soothingly ran a cloth over the baby. She noticed that he ignored the soap and used only water to bathe her small limbs.

  “This one’s cord is like that because she’s brand new. I’d bet this is her first bath.”

  As the wet rag touched her face, the baby complained and then started shivering again. “Hold up a towel and be ready to take her.”

  He looked at Josephine, waiting for her to act. She stared at the stack of cloths and then at his smiling face. The news that someone abandoned a newborn on the steps confounded her.

  “Come on, Miss Withers. Let’s get this little gal dry.” She nodded, the movement clearing her mind so she could act.

  As he lifted the infant out of the basin, she wrapped the linen around her. “Now, take her,” he instructed. Obviously, he’d realized Josephine had never been around babies.

  Unfolding a towel on the table, he took the infant out of her arms and laid her on the table. “Watch how I dry her so you can do it next time. She has lots of little folds and they need to be softly dried so she stays healthy.” The infant lay unresponsive as if the bath had exhausted her.

  “Is she alright? She seems, well, lifeless.” Worry laced her voice.

  “Tea kettles steaming. Pull it off,” he advised. “Take a jar from that second cupboard and fill it half-way with hot water.”

  She obeyed his odd instructions. Once she’d filled the jar part way, he pointed at the icebox. “Grab a bottle from inside and put it into the water. This little one will feel better once she gets something to eat and a dry diaper.”

  Inside, Josephine saw 4 bottles standing on the top shelf of the icebox. She expected to see a milk bottle. Instead, four baby bottles with black nipples waited for her.

  After placing one of the bottles in the water, she turned to give him an odd smirk. “Why would you have baby bottles in your icebox?”

  “Mrs. Klaussen gave them to me as a Christmas present. She told me to wait to open them. When I opened the package instead of waiting, I got quite a surprise. Thought the old lady had lost her mind.” He chuckled softly as he maneuvered a dishtowel under the baby and tied it over the small hips. “That woman must have the second sight to know I’d need those bottles of milk.”

  Not knowing what to say, Josephine silently watched him fold a dry towel closely around the infant. He tucked it first one way and then the other, amazing her. “Where did you learn to swaddle a baby?”

  “From my wife, after our son was born.”

  Pain. It gripped him whenever he thought about his son. Caring for this surprise visitor brought back warm and happy memories. Strange, tonight he remembered good times with his son. He hadn’t been able to do that since receiving word of the deaths.

  Tenderly cradling the swaddled baby, he pointed to the bottle. “It should be warm enough. Normally, I’d put a drop of it on the inside of my arm. That can’t be hot enough to need that, though.”

  She lifted the dripping bottle. Using the baby’s damp towel, Miss Withers wiped the bottle and handed it to him with a shy smile. He shook his head at her. “Why don’t you feed her while I work on stoking the furnace?”

  “Uh, I, um, have never fed a baby.” She reddened.

  Del wasn’t sure why he found her blush so attractive. His wife had been bossy and earthy. She’d never blushed to his recollection. How he could be attracted to his wife’s opposite bemused him. The desire he experienced now that he was near this woman proved it was a fact.

  Gesturing for her to follow, he moved to his sitting room. Lifting a
quilt from the back of the sofa, he draped it over his padded rocker. “Have a seat, Miss Withers.”

  Then he snorted. “Seems since we’re getting to know each other, we might use first names. I’m Del, by the way. In case you’ve never heard my first name.”

  He supposed it wasn’t mannerly to suggest he use her name. After all, he’d heard somewhere that society types expected a man to wait until the woman invited him to call her by her first name. No matter, she’d have to accept him the way he was.

  After her pause, she blushed again—very prettily, he thought—and said, “I’m Josephine,” before she ducked her head shyly.

  Once she’d settled into the rocker, Del placed the baby in the crook of her arm. Wanting to keep them warm, he folded the quilt around her and tucked its edges under her thighs. As he pulled his hands away from her body, it was his turn to blush. Not because he touched her. No, he blushed at the thought that he wanted to go on touching her.

  “Okay, Josie,” he began and met her surprised eyes when he used the nickname. Ignoring her reaction, he continued, “Keep her head like that and kind of rub the nipple over her lips to offer it to her.”

  With stiff uncertainty, Josephine traced the baby’s bottom lip with the rubber nipple. The newborn’s eyes opened and her mouth rounded to suck. “There you go. Gently place the nipple in her mouth. Yes, just like that,” he coached.

  “Look at Peaches take to that bottle. You won’t have trouble feeding her now.” He laughed. At that moment, he realized that he’d chuckled and laughed more in the last half-hour than he’d done in the entire year.

  Josie—he wouldn’t think of her any other way--relaxed back against the spindles of the rocker. The beginnings of contentment showed around her mouth as it eased. “Why Peaches? It seems like an odd name.”

  He reached a finger toward the nursing infant and ran a finger over the fine, dark hair covering the small head. “I’ve never been given a crate of peaches for Christmas. This little one arrived in a peach crate so the name seemed right.”

  She watched his finger. As his hand lifted, he briefly thought Josie would lean into his arm. Almost like she wanted him to touch her. Then the spell broke when Peaches choked.

  Fear radiated from Josie. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he soothed, “Just take the bottle out and lift your arm a little higher. She drank too fast is all.”

  Peaches began snuffling and rooting her face into Josie’s arm. “She’s telling you it’s time to feed her again.” As the baby suckled, Josie’s shoulder lowered and softened under his hand. For a brief moment, he allowed his hand to move to her quilt-covered back. He rubbed gently, drawing a sigh from her.

  The sigh set off warning bells. Things could get out of hand. He quickly pulled away and crossed to the door.

  She spoke softly, halting him. Gesturing her head toward the hearth, she asked, “Could you light the fireplace before you go?”

  “Sorry. Mrs. Klaussen warned me not to use it. Some problems with the chimney.” Why did he feel like he’d failed as her champion by not lighting the logs laid in the brick fireplace? Something about Josie made him feel like an eighteen-year-old rather than a twenty-eight-year-old man.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced to the cellar. He needed to provide warmth for Josie and Peaches. In a mere hour, they’d become his to take care of, he decided.

  Darkness and a musty odor greeted him in the cellar. There should be a light glowing through the small window in the furnace’s iron door. Nothing.

  Grabbing up the matches stored nearby, he struck one and searched for the lamp kept near the door. Seeing it, he reached out and then gasped. He’d forgotten the match. It singed down to his fingers.

  Starting again, he struck another match and used it to light the kerosene lantern before replacing the glass chimney. Carrying it to the furnace, he hunkered down and opened the unexpectantly cold metal door. Coal was piled inside. Returning to the matches, he struck one and squatted again in front of the furnace door. Extending the flame, he prepared to pull back quickly when the coal caught fire. Instead, the flame sputtered and went out as soon as it touched the coal.

  This time, Del brought the container of matches with him. Hunkering down, he lit one after another. A dozen spent matches surrounded his feet. The coal had won and he had lost. No heat tonight.

  Thoughts of another furnace five blocks away flitted across his mind. The white Cape Cod with its happy blue trim might be their only hope for warmth.

  He hadn’t planned on returning there. Of course, spending one night in the place didn’t mean he was moving back.

  Blowing out the lantern, he hung it behind the door on the cellar’s stone wall and left. Rubbing his cold hands together, he ascended the stairs rapidly, moving to keep warm.

  Back in his sitting room, Josie smiled at him. “The baby’s asleep. There’s more milk.” She held up a bottle that was still three quarters filled. “I guess she’s full since she stopped eating.”

  Del should have known better. Even so, he asked, “Did you burp her?”

  Josie’s proud look vanished, concern replacing it. “I was supposed to burp her? How do I do that?”

  Comforting her with a gentle shush, he extended his arms. She rose, laying Peaches into them. A lightning storm of feeling raced through him at the brush of her arms against his. Something about this woman definitely moved him in a way no one else had for a long time.

  Adjusting the baby on his shoulder, he patted and rubbed the tiny back. “Since she’s asleep, it might take longer. I keep patting and rubbing until the bubbles leave her tummy. Sucking on the nipple gives a baby gas.”

  His prim and proper Josie blushed at the mention of gas. Why had he thought of her as his Josie? He had no rights to this spinster.

  A belch, almost like a pop, left the tiny body. Both adults laughed and the tension in the air disappeared. He handed the baby back to Josie and helped her sit again.

  Wrapping the quilt around her shoulders, he explained the situation. “Stay in the quilt for now. The furnace is a lost cause, I’m afraid. There’s no flame. No embers, even. The coal refuses to light.”

  In the yellow electric light, he glimpsed her face pale. “What will we do? Can we risk the fireplace?”

  With a resigned sigh, he straightened his shoulders. “No. We’ll go to my house.”

  Chapter 3

  Josephine tied a white knitted scarf securely around her neck and over her mouth. She’d offered to carry the baby inside her coat. With one look at her worn and thin velvet coat, Del tied the baby inside a sort of sling resting next to his own chest. His heavier coat nicely covered both of them, and Peaches slept through the entire process.

  Both she and Del carried a suitcase. In addition, she had a canvas bag slung around her neck and under one arm. As she moved, baby bottles rattled inside it.

  When he’d told her to pack a bag, she’d balked. “It’s bad enough to be alone here with you, even if no one knows the Klaussens are gone. If I arrive at your house carrying a suitcase, what will your neighbors think?”

  He flashed her a toe-curling grin. It was a suggestive look. It hinted at the seduction his neighbors might suspect. “The best part of going now is that most everyone’s asleep, Josie. Stop worrying.”

  She’d shoved her concerns aside and packed enough clothes for two days. She wondered, as she packed, who had taken her cardigans. It added to the mystery. Why had Mrs. Klaussen gifted Del with baby bottles and why did the coal refuse to burn?

  Outside, the snow had accumulated since she’d pulled the peach crate inside. At least two inches now covered the previously bare ground. After he locked the door, Del caught sight of her boots while bending to pick up his bag.

  “Are those the best you have? Your feet won’t stay dry.”

  How to react? The bossy tone irritated her. His question embarrassed her. She chose to be annoyed.

  She managed to look down her nose at the much taller man. “My feet ar
e none of your concern. Just lead me to this warm house you’ve promised.”

  Giving her a short, tight nod, he moved off the steps and headed up the street. His long stride soon left her behind, struggling to keep up with him.

  Did I anger him so much that he’s trying to get away from me? Will I be left alone on snowy night?

  None of that fit with the man she knew. Still, she didn’t know him well.

  As her mind worried and her legs hustled to keep him in sight, Del stopped and waited for her to catch up. He watched from a corner on the main street of their small town. Even from a distance, she saw a wide smile on his handsome mouth.

  When she reached him, he hunched his shoulders and gave her an idiot’s grin. “Sorry, I should have taken it slower. You mentioned a warm house. Mine won’t be warm since I’ll have to light the coal in the furnace.” He looked ashamed. “All I could think of was getting there to start the furnace so you and Peaches will be able to warm up after this walk.”

  A tightness inside Josephine relaxed. He didn’t want to get away from her. This caring man was just who she’d believed him to be. It was why she’d been drawn to him for months now. Had watched for him every time she entered or left the rooming house.

  “If you slow down, we can talk.” He’d started to walk again. Slower this time, pacing himself with her shorter steps.

  At her mention of talking, he turned his head to give her an intrigued look with one dark eyebrow raised. “What do you want to talk about?”

  She forced herself to keep walking while she spoke. “For starters, why do you live with the Klaussens if you own a house?” She’d wanted to ask the question since the moment he announced they were moving to his house.

  She glanced quickly to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his reaction. Del silently plodded on through the gathering snow. If possible, it seemed to fall heavier as they walked. The snowflakes were very small. She knew the storm would continue since large flakes were the sign that snow would soon stop.