Giving Thanks for Baby

He’d so monopolized every moment, getting upset when she wanted to spend time with her friends, that she’d eventually let the friendships fade. She didn’t even know how to get hold of any of her old college gang.

She needed to link up with others who were in the same boat.

Single and lonely.

She frowned. She wasn’t lonely. She had Aidan. She just needed someone to talk to.

What was the name of that online group Kelly mentioned?

The Kingdom Room.

Heart pounding with anticipation, she went to the Web site. She hesitated a moment before bolstering her courage and registering. After filling in the blanks and choosing a screen name, she was in.

For an hour she lurked, reading the posts from the last few days. Men and women both conversed about various aspects of being single. A few mentioned their children. Nothing overly personal or uncomfortable here.

Okay, this was doable.

She wasn’t looking for a romantic encounter, just friends to understand.

With a deep breath, she jumped into the current thread of conversation, hoping to find someone out there to connect with.

Yet, a little voice inside her head taunted her—only more hurt would be her reward.

Chapter Two

By Tuesday morning Scott’s e-mail in-box was bursting.

He stared at the amount of posts. What was going on?

After booting up the computer when he first walked into his office, he’d gone in search of some tea. Setting his mug of Earl Grey on the marble coaster on his mahogany desk, he slipped into his fabric-covered chair.

Normally, he took a moment to let the soothing hues of blues and brown in the office soothe his mind before turning his thoughts to work. But the staggering number of e-mails held his attention.

He clicked into the in-box and began to scroll through the e-mails. They were all addressed to Called2serve. A dawning realization clenched his gut as he read the posts. Someone, Naomi he was sure, had registered him to The Kingdom Room and added him to their e-mail loop.

He didn’t have time for this.

His father had called just as he was leaving the apartment he rented in a private residence east of Main Street. The phone call had been strange. His father had asked if Scott would say a few words at his parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. Scott could hear the emotion in his father’s voice and it left Scott feeling off-kilter.

Joseph Crosby had always been as solid as a hundred-year-old oak tree and just as unbendable.

His father was a family practitioner in Richmond. He’d had a long career and a great reputation. Everyone knew Doc Crosby. Candice Crosby was a star in her own right as a skilled surgeon. Scott and his sibs never lacked for medical care.

Scott’s sister, Elise, followed their father into medicine and was now a pediatrician. Her husband was a contractor and had built their home as well as Scott’s two brothers’ homes.

John and Kyle Crosby had veered from medicine and both became lawyers. An honorable profession according to their father.

And then there was Scott. The quiet one. The underachiever. The assistant pastor.

Another e-mail popped up.

Scott shook his head to clear his thoughts. He really didn’t have time for an Internet singles group. He needed to focus on organizing the upcoming Thanksgiving Day dinner for the homeless.

But curiosity got the better of him; he couldn’t help quickly scanning the e-mails before deleting them. Some were interesting threads of conversation regarding the holidays and the difficulty of being single when so many people seemed to expect couples at gatherings.

One post in particular grabbed his attention.

Hi, I’m new here and am hoping to connect with others who might understand. I’ve been divorced for a short time, but the marriage was over long before the official decree, I just didn’t know it. So I’m starting over in a new city and between work and my baby, I don’t have time to make friends. I’d been married since my second year of college. It’s strange to be alone, especially as the holidays approach. I do have some family, but they have their own lives. I don’t want to be a burden. Any suggestions? Is the emptiness I feel just the lack of a spouse? Is it normal? Will it pass?

Momof1

Scott sat back. These answers couldn’t be found online or anywhere else on this earth. Naomi may have added him to The Kingdom Room for her own reasons, but God obviously had reasons, as well.

Scott didn’t believe in coincidences. The Momof1 needed a guide to lead her to the truth. To the fulfillment she craved.

Only doing it via the Internet seemed so…cold and distant. So unlike God.

But in an age of electronic devices…God met people where they were. And Scott would serve any way God wanted him to.

Scott closed his eyes. Lord, give me the words You would have me say.

A moment later, he began to type.

It was late in the night on Wednesday when Trista remembered to check her e-mail. The past couple of days had been hectic. The senior Benson had been pleased with the work she’d done on a small claims case that had settled well and had informed her he wanted her on a new case that was a complicated land issue between the county and their client.

So she’d spent every spare moment she could studying the land laws of Virginia and specifically their county.

Now that Aidan had gone to bed, she propped her feet up on the coffee table, squirmed into a comfortable position on the secondhand sofa and fired up her laptop.

Whoa! These Kingdom Room people had a lot of free time. She couldn’t believe the amount of e-mail in her in-box.

She started with the first response from her post and slowly made her way through the quagmire of words. Some made her laugh, others she didn’t know what to make of.

One man sent her his picture and asked for a date. She quickly deleted that. It creeped her out that some one would ask for a date without knowing anything about the other person. For all the guy knew, she could be a serial killer.

Several women said she was nuts to be feeling anything but glad to be single. Those posts made Trista wonder what had happened in their marriages. She and Kevin hadn’t been very happy together, at least not the last few years, but she still missed having someone to talk to at the end of the day. Someone to share the ups and the downs with.

There were suggestions of places she could go to meet people, mostly exotic locales. Yeah, right! She had a baby to take care of, she couldn’t go gallivanting all over the world.

Books were recommended on dealing with divorce and single parenthood. Links to support groups were offered. A few commiserated on the emptiness and loneliness of finding themselves single after so many years of marriage.

Several said they’d be praying for her. She rolled her eyes at the clichéd sentiment. If only life’s problems were fixed so easily.

“What did you expect?” she asked herself aloud. This was a Christian Web site. These people believed in the power of prayer. It certainly couldn’t hurt to have them praying for her.

Trista wrote back to a few ladies that she felt a connection with, giving a brief glimpse into her life, yet careful not to reveal anything too personal.

A person just never knew who she was actually “talking” to online. Hadn’t she just seen a news show about online predators?

Then one e-mail snagged her interest.

Momof1

Has your family said that you’re a burden to them? If not, don’t assume that’s how they feel. One way of finding connections would be to join a women’s group in your area. As to your question about emptiness…people are not only physical and emotional beings with a need for food and companionship, but humans are spiritual beings with a need for God. How is your relationship with Him?

Called2serve

Trista stared at the screen. It wasn’t an unreasonable question that Called2serve asked. Presumably everyone on this site would believe in God. And it wasn’t that she didn’t believe in Him. It was just…where had God been when she was growing up and needed Him?

That was a question she was afraid to ask because she might find out she was right. She wasn’t worth God’s time.

Scott had thought he’d scared off Momof1 when a day had passed without a reply. But there was a message from her in his in-box on Thursday evening. He clicked on the post.

Called2serve

You ask how my relationship is with God. I’m trying to discover that amid all the turmoil of my divorce.

Momof1

Compassion filled Scott’s chest. He couldn’t imagine the pain of divorce. The death of a marriage. The shattered dreams.

The only experience he had with matters of the heart had been Sylvia. They had met during high school in the choir at church and shared a love of music and God. At least he’d thought they had until she’d walked away from him and the life he’d offered.

Her rejection had hurt, but had faded quickly after he’d entered seminary. Since then, he hadn’t met anyone whom he wanted to let into his heart.

He offered Momof1 what solace he could even though he felt very inadequate.

Thursday night.

Momof1

I don’t know the circumstance of your situation, but I do know God loves you. His comfort and peace are gifts He wants to give you.

Called2serve

Friday Morning.

Called2serve

How do I receive these gifts?

Momof1

Friday night.

Momof1

There’s nothing complicated about it, even though we’d like to think there is. Open your heart and mind to Him. Ask Him silently or aloud to show you His love, to come into your life. He so longs to. Then you wait and watch. He’ll reveal Himself. Sometimes in small ways, sometimes in big, dramatic ways. But you’ll know. And you’ll feel the peace and comfort like a gentle blanket of protection.

Called2serve

Trista entered The Kingdom Room on Friday night to discover a chat room was now available. She’d decided to stop corresponding with Called2serve since the direction of their conversation was heading into waters she wasn’t ready to navigate. Asking God into her life?

She was too afraid He’d say no.

It took a moment to acclimate to the format of the chat, but soon she was in on the discussion of the latest blockbuster movie. She hadn’t seen it, but asked if it was worth the time and trouble to go since she wasn’t into action films.

She was surprised to see Called2serve enter the room. But Called2serve didn’t acknowledge her, instead wrote that he wanted to see the movie and planned to go on Sunday afternoon.

Several other people who hadn’t seen it yet said they too would make a point of seeing the movie over the weekend at their local theaters and then the discussion could resume.

All she could commit to was a quick, I’ll think about it.

That earned her a smiley face from Called2serve.

For some reason that silly little yellow icon on her computer screen made her laugh.

Saturday morning arrived with a fresh fall of snow. Outside, a soft blanket of white covered the town of Chestnut Grove and a crisp freshness in the air brought anticipation of a cold winter. Scott stomped his snow-covered boots on the dry pavement beneath the awning of The Reading Rainbow Palace, downtown’s newest bookstore and café.

Inside the double doors, warmth seeped beneath the collar of his coat. He quickly shed the down parka, draping it on a peg bolted to the wall alongside a dozen others.

The place was hopping with mothers and children vying for spots near the center rise where a woman in a green vintage dress sat waiting. In her hands, she held a book and a puppet.

Hanging on to his backpack, Scott made his way to the counter and ordered a cappuccino with double whipped cream. Soon he was settled at a table off to the side where he pulled out a fiction book and began to read, the voices of the crowd fading into white noise.

A jarring knock against the table interrupted his flow. He glanced up and met the gaze of a beautiful, brunette woman with the most intense, bright-blue eyes he’d ever seen. She smiled apologetically as she maneuvered a jogging stroller to the corner before unstrapping an infant from the seat. The baby, dressed snugly in a powder-blue jumpsuit, had the same dark hair and vivid blue eyes as his mother. His chubby legs pumped as she held him face out.

The woman stood and stared at the crowd, indecision written plainly across her oval face. Scott didn’t blame her for hesitating before venturing into the sea of bodies taking up every available space on the carpeted floor. The only vacant chair sat across from Scott. He waved a hand to garner the woman’s attention.

She flicked her gaze at him, clearly unsure if she wanted to give him her attention. Scott indicated the chair. She bit her lip for a second before pulling the chair out and plopping down in it.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

The woman turned her gaze toward the storyteller. Scott turned his attention back to his book, but now the words wouldn’t hold his interest. His gaze kept straying to the woman sitting across from him. He hadn’t seen her in church.

He liked the way her dark ponytail hung low at the nape of her neck in a sleek way. The high arch of her cheekbones and forehead gave her face sharp lines that were softened by her pert nose and dark lashed eyes. She wore a red turtleneck sweater and close-fitting black pants tucked into her snow boots.

There was an air of sophistication about her, yet she didn’t come across like one of the many debutantes his mother had always tried to fix him up with.

She glanced his way and he quickly picked up his drink to mask his bad manners. He usually didn’t stare. Or notice a woman’s left hand. Hers was surprisingly ringless.

But for some reason this woman drew his attention.

Probably it was the way she so deftly handled her son, like a pro. And there was no mistaking the love shining in her expression every time she cooed in her child’s ear.

Before the last story ended, the baby had fallen asleep, his little body curled over her arm, his head listing to the side. Scott tapped on the table, drawing the woman’s questioning gaze.

Nodding his head toward the child, he whispered, “He’s asleep.”

The woman’s eyes widened as she adjusted the infant so she could verify Scott’s statement. With a rueful shake of her head, she said softly, “So much for story time.”

She made to rise and Scott quickly asked, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

Slowly, she sat back. For a moment she stared at him, then finally she nodded. “Decaf almond latte.”

Scott rose and made his way to the counter. Naomi was going to love to hear that he’d just offered to buy this woman coffee without even asking her name. But the moment he’d thought she was leaving, he’d plunged ahead with the first thought that came to mind.

He ordered the drink and a few minutes later returned to the table. The jogging stroller was now pulled close to the table and the baby sleeping soundly in the seat.

Scott set the mug in front of the woman before he sat down. The quiet hum of parents helping their children do a craft that related to the story swirled around them.

She smiled as she put her slender hands around the mug. “Thank you. This was thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome.” Keeping his voice low, even though the crowd was busy with parents and kids wanting the storyteller’s books, he held out his hand. “Scott Crosby.”

She slipped her hand into his, the temperature from the mug having heated her palm. Warmth spread up his arm.

“I’m Trista Van Zandt.”

“Any relation to Ross and Kelly?”

Her expressive eyes widened. “Ross is my big brother. Do you know them?”

“Yes, very well. Are you visiting?”

She trailed a fingertip around the top of the mug.

“No, I moved here recently from Richmond.”

To make sure he wasn’t making an incorrect assumption, because some women didn’t take their husband’s names, he asked, “Are you and your husband enjoying our small community?”

Trista’s expression closed. “I’m divorced.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

She gave him a tight smile. “Nothing for you to feel sorry about.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. “Does your ex-husband still live in Richmond?”

“Yes, thankfully. He wasn’t ready to be a father. The very idea cramped his style.”

Anger stirred in Scott’s soul. “That’s just…” He was tempted to say a bad word but resisted with effort. “I’ll never understand how some men can be so selfish. Being a parent is the greatest honor God gives us.”

She blinked, obviously surprised by his words. “I suppose that’s true. It certainly is the hardest job I’ve ever had.”

“It’s good you have your brother and Kelly so close by. Are you adjusting to life here, then?”

Her smile was warm. “Yes, thank you. The slower pace is perfect for Aidan and me. I love my job and Aidan seems to like his day care.”

“Where are you working?”

“Benson and Benson.”

“Ah, are you a lawyer?” Scott said, wondering why that wouldn’t surprise him. She had a very strong self-possessed way about her, similar to Scott’s brothers. Only on them, it could, at times, come across as arrogance.

“Yes. And you? What do you do, Scott?” Her interested gaze sought answers.

Scott gladly gave one. “I’m the assistant pastor at Chestnut Grove Church.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

Scott could feel her retreat like the rays of the sun going behind a cloud. A disquieting sense of disappointment engulfed him, though why he didn’t understand.

It shouldn’t bother him that this woman would put up a wall between them because of his call to follow God. So many other people in his life had, as well.

He sighed. “I take it you don’t go to church?”

She raised a brow. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugged. “The vibe you’re giving off.”

One side of her mouth rose. “Oh, really? I didn’t know pastors bought into vibes.”

“Reading people is part of the job.”

“Then you must be good at your job, because you’re right, I don’t attend church. My parents weren’t big on religion and I just never got into it, not like Ross has.”

Scott considered her for a moment. “Now that you’ve moved here, maybe you should consider attending. You might be surprised.”

She lifted one slim shoulder. “Maybe.” She fiddled with a napkin. “I read in the paper that the Douglas Matthews show will be filming at the upcoming food drive that the church is hosting. That must be exciting to have that kind of coverage.”

“Yes, it is.” She didn’t fool Scott by changing the focus of their conversation. “The Douglas Matthews Show has brought Chestnut Grove a lot of attention. I think the food drive this year will be the biggest yet. And the Thanksgiving Day dinner for the homeless is sure to be a success.” He eyed her speculatively. “We could use more volunteers if you’re interested.”

She seemed to consider his words. “I might be. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“Call the church and ask for Naomi. She’ll be able to get you plugged in.”

“I’ll think about it.” She took a sip of coffee.

An awkward moment of silence stretched between them.

“Did you grow up here?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I was born here, but we moved to Richmond when I was a teen. I came back as soon as I left seminary.” He searched her face. “What about you? Where were you born?”

“Brooklyn, New York. I went to college at Columbia, then moved to Richmond, where my ex-husband’s family is from.”

Scott’s gaze touched on the sleeping baby. “How old is…Aidan?”

Affection lit up her eyes. “Yes, Aidan. He’s seven months.”

“That’s a fun age. They aren’t supermobile yet, but their personalities start to develop.”

Both of her eyebrows rose. “You sound like you know kids. Are you married?”

He laughed. “No. I just know from all my nieces and nephews.”

“Ah. Learning secondhand. My big brother’s been learning from Aidan. I can’t wait to see Ross with his own little one.”

“They’ll be good parents,” Scott stated. “Tiny Blessings has been through the wringer with all the scandals that have happened over the past few years. But your sister-in-law and brother seem to be handling it wonderfully.”

Trista’s chest puffed with pride. “They are. I’ve been trying to help a little with some of the legal stuff, but it gets very complicated and time-consuming. Not to mention how emotionally involving it is.”

“I can imagine. The agency has been a blessing to so many people.”

Trista liked the way he put that. In fact, she liked Scott. His blond, green-eyed good looks aside, there was something very soothing and gentle about him that was so unlike her brother or Kevin.

She supposed being a pastor was the difference.

And being a pastor also made him off-limits.

That is, if she were looking for a relationship, which she wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine two people having more dissimilar perspectives on life.

Beside her Aidan stirred. She picked him up and snuggled him close as he awakened.

“You’re very good with him,” Scott commented.

The compliment made her heart swell. “I can’t imagine my life without him now.”

She dug through the stroller bag and brought out a baby bottle with powdered formula in it. She turned to Scott. “Would you mind holding him while I fill the bottle with water?”

Scott’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to, if you think he’ll do okay with a stranger.”

“Only one way to find out,” she quipped and handed her son to him.

Scott handled the baby as if he’d been doing it forever. He bounced Aidan on his knee and made faces until Aidan giggled.

Trista went to the counter to get water, her gaze straying to Scott and Aidan. She trusted Scott with her son, which was unusual. Again, the fact that he was a pastor must be the reason she felt so comfortable with him.

She watched them together, Aidan’s eyes bright with curiosity and Scott so animated. She felt a pang of sadness and anger for what Kevin had chosen to destroy.

He’d vowed to have nothing to do with their child if she chose to keep him. So far he’d kept his vow.

But the disturbing message left on her machine earlier in the week nagged at her. Thankfully, he hadn’t called again and she had no intention of calling him. She was done with that chapter of her life. She and Aidan would do just fine.

She thanked the girl behind the counter who handed her some lukewarm water. She quickly mixed Aidan’s bottle and went back to the table.

Scott reached for the bottle. “May I?”

“Uh, sure.” She watched as Aidan greedily sucked from the rubber tip, drips of liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth. She handed Scott a burp cloth. He dabbed at the corners of Aidan’s mouth and placed the cloth underneath the bottle to catch the dribbles.

“Your sister must love to have you babysit,” Trista commented.

Scott chuckled. “I get asked to babysit a lot. Not only by my siblings’ kids but at church, too.” He shrugged. “I love kids.”

“It shows.” Her heart twisted with yearning for someone like Scott to be an important part of her son’s life. Maybe he could be, as their friend? That might require attending church, but more significantly, letting Scott into her life. She wasn’t sure if she could do either one.

Chapter Three

Trista’s attention was snagged by a woman and a young boy as they rose from a nearby table. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was Lynda Matthews—television talk show star Douglas Matthews’s wife—and their son, Logan. Trista gasped softly as the woman turned toward her.