Yuletide Baby

Noelle’s needs were apparently many, or at least they were a mystery to him, and he was clearly lacking in his ability to take decent care of her. At least here with Heather, he could be assured that Noelle would have everything she needed. Though the downside was that he’d have Heather as a witness to see exactly how inept he truly was. He grinned, not bothered by the laughter that was bound to come at his expense—and if there wasn’t yet, there soon would be. Christmas Day wasn’t over. He had a while yet to display the stunning depths of his incompetence.

He didn’t really care if other folks caught a laugh or two over his present circumstances—he was laughing at himself. It was pretty funny, when he thought about it.

Chuckling, Shawn assured Jo that all was well for the time being. It was all good now—because of Heather’s generosity and help. Jo laughed with him and agreed with his assessment of Heather and then promised she’d check in on him later. Shawn tucked his cell phone into his shirt pocket and stretched to get the kinks out of his shoulders. Now that he was awake, he wasn’t sure what he should be doing.

Probably leaving. He didn’t want to take advantage of Heather’s kindness, particularly on what he understood to be her first Christmas with her foster children.

But when he padded back into the living room and spied Noelle and Heather looking so comfortable and contented together in the rocking chair, he couldn’t find it in his heart to break them up. And truth be told, even considering how awkward he felt right now being the third wheel, he wasn’t yet prepared to go off on his own and face another night of single-parent foster-daddy duty.

He shuffled toward the corner of the living room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his blue jeans. He probably should at least offer to do something to help, but he hadn’t the faintest notion of what assistance he could give. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t technically even a guest. He didn’t know where she kept the silverware. His cooking skills were marginal. And though he could probably manage to keep the older kids occupied, he was totally useless with the baby.

“You don’t have to hold up the wall,” Heather commented with a gentle smile, brushing a long strand of mahogany-brown hair behind her ear. “Feel free to sit wherever you can find a free space, although it looks like you may have to move something to find a seat. I usually have a rule about putting away toys before new ones get taken out, but I’m being a little lax today, since it’s Christmas.”

He smiled and nodded to acknowledge her offer, but he was too fidgety to sit down just yet. Besides, standing gave him a better view of the kids. There was nothing like the sight and sound of jubilant children on Christmas morning to raise a man’s spirits.

Crumpled wads of bright-colored Christmas wrap, now ripped and forgotten, lay balled underneath the glittering tree. Heather’s three foster children were busy with their new toys. The boys, nine-year-old Jacob and three-year-old Henry, played together, pushing their shiny cast-model race cars around a plastic track. Seven-year-old Missy held a new doll in the curve of her arm and mimicked Heather’s sounds and movements as she held Noelle. It was a heartwarming sight, especially since just yesterday he’d imagined he’d spend the day as a lonely bachelor.

What a difference a day could make. Here he was, enveloped in the warmth of a child-filled house. He hadn’t realized just how wonderful it would be after having been alone all these years. It filled his heart with great joy to realize how little it took to make the young ones happy. He needed a little bit more of that innocence in his life. If only adults had the same capacity to give and receive as generously as the youngsters.

Heather hadn’t gone overkill on the number or size of the gifts—whether because she couldn’t or she chose not to, but there was no shortage in the amount of joy she’d given her children in what they had received. It was abundantly clear to anyone observing the scene that she knew each of her foster children intimately and was mindful of what they wanted and needed.

Shawn was envious of that quality in her. He apparently hadn’t been able to anticipate Noelle’s needs at all.

It was a good thing for the baby that he wasn’t going to end up being her permanent foster parent. She would no doubt go to a wonderful home with a foster mother like Heather, who had the knowledge and capacity to care for her. All of her needs would be anticipated and met without Shawn’s doltish stops and starts. She was such a sweet little girl, and he was certain she’d eventually be adopted by a nice Christian family with a mom and a dad who loved each other. Maybe she’d have other siblings to play with and a dog and a cat and a yard with a fence.

All he had to offer was the dog and the cat and the yard and the fence—and pigs and goats and horses and ranch land.

Not good enough. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

He shifted his attention back to Heather, who watched over her brood from an old-fashioned wooden rocking chair laden with colorful floral cushions. She hummed a Christmas carol as she rocked. She had a lovely, rich alto voice that enthralled Shawn as much as it did Noelle, purring through his muscles until he felt thoroughly relaxed and yet completely alert at the same time. It was an odd paradox, but true nonetheless.

To his utter astonishment, he discovered that Noelle, who was contentedly curled in the crook of Heather’s arm, wasn’t asleep as he’d first assumed she must be. Instead, she was staring up at Heather, her chubby fist in her mouth and her eyes just beginning to focus on the woman holding her.

What she wasn’t doing was crying. Not wailing, not squalling, not bawling, not even a whimper.

Go figure.

Shawn was amazed by how quickly Heather had made everything right in the tiny baby’s world. He didn’t know if it was because she was experienced in caring for infants or the fact that she was naturally suited to be a mother. Maybe it was a combination of both, but Noelle responded to Heather in a way that made Shawn feel especially incompetent, a fact which, while impressive, grated against his distinctly male pride. He wanted to do it right, get things done the first time and in an expedient manner—not stumble over his every move.

He watched in awe as the baby took a bottle from Heather without a fuss. Adding insult to injury, Noelle fell asleep while Heather was in the midst of patting her back.

Heather definitely must know some tricks of the trade that he didn’t. Or maybe the tiny tyke was plain old worn-out from her self-appointed task of keeping Shawn awake all night. She had to sleep sometime, right?

Just not on his watch.

Shawn shifted his weight and smothered a yawn behind his fist. The catnap he’d taken was a drop in the bucket after the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d had to stay awake, although there was that. It had been quite a few years since he’d pulled an all-nighter. But there was a great deal more to the fatigue weighing him down—like the stress of being singularly responsible for a tiny human life, completely helpless and dependent upon him.

“You still look thoroughly exhausted,” Heather commented. She tilted her chin and blinked up at him with her big hazel eyes that softly glimmered from the lights of the tree. “I think maybe you need to sleep a little bit longer. There’s no rush, you know. I don’t mind watching the baby this afternoon.”

Caught up in her gaze, Shawn’s stomach did a little flip and he barely stanched the urge to clear the catch out of his throat.

“Jo woke me when she phoned to check on Noelle. I attempted to go back to sleep but my mind started spinning with all that’s been going on and that was the end of my nap. As tired as I am, I don’t think I could sleep any more.”

“That’s a shame. Maybe you should have put your phone on mute.” She smiled, though it looked a bit forced. “Well, in any case, you don’t have to stand in the corner. You look like a hat stand—or else like someone put you in time-out.”

Shawn chuckled. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“And probably not the last. Seriously—please come sit down on the couch and take a load off. You make me nervous when you hover that way.” Despite her kidding tone, he almost got the sense that she truly was nervous. But that couldn’t be right, could it? What reason would she have to be nervous around him?

“I don’t even mind if you put your feet up on the coffee table—well, the storage bench that serves as the coffee table—either,” she continued. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s what it’s there for.”

“Not for decoration? It’s a nice-looking piece of furniture.” The bench looked as if it fit with the rest of her decor—not that he was any kind of expert on matters of decorating. The padded corners were a little worn, but it exhibited the same lived-in look as her other furnishings. He liked lived-in.

She chuckled. “No fancy furniture in this household. Decorative would last about a day. With three kids running around, functional is the name of the game here.”

He groaned in delight as the plush cushions on the chocolate-colored couch enveloped him like gentle arms. True comfort. Everything about Heather’s house suggested it was the genuine article. Her entire home expressed her heart—and it was all about the children.

Her home was far more comfortable and welcoming than the more perfectly kept, sanitized houses of some of his congregants, where he found himself tiptoeing around, afraid to stand near the furniture, much less sit on it. He felt ill at ease in too-clean houses. As a pastor, visiting his flock was one of his favorite tasks, but as a cowboy who lived and worked on a ranch with horses and goats and pigs, he wasn’t always dust-and dirt-free. Heather certainly didn’t need to apologize for her furniture. He wished everyone kept a house like hers.

She was literally encouraging him to put his feet up.

Sweet!

All he needed now was a cold soft drink and a football game on television—although of course he’d never suggest such a thing. He’d already probably put enough dents into her holiday without bringing sports into it.

“I can’t believe how worn-out I feel,” Shawn said, running a hand across the stubble on his jaw and belatedly realizing he hadn’t shaved that morning. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t combed his hair before he left, either—and then he’d gone and taken a nap, which could only have served to worsen his already disheveled appearance. He must look like the abominable snowman’s twin brother, and yet Heather hadn’t blinked an eye, not when he’d appeared at the door, and not when he’d shuffled out after his nap. “I don’t know how new parents do it, but I’m certainly too old to try to pull all-nighters anymore.”

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