The Magic of Christmas: A Christmas Child / The Christmas Dove / A Baby Blue Christmas

Marianne felt her small brother awaken in his blankets, for he wriggled and pushed his feet out, demanding that he be unwrapped from the binding of his blankets. One arm rose from the wrappings and waved in the air, even as he cried aloud, craving attention.

“I think he’s hungry again. Would you have the bottle handy that I left with him?”

“So it was you who put him in the manger. I thought as much, when I saw you in the back of the church. I caught a glimpse of you when you walked away from here earlier, and I figured you’d show up sometime tonight. I knew you’d be wanting to check on the baby.”

David pulled a chair from under the kitchen table and offered it to Marianne, watching as she sank into its depths, the infant in her arms squirming now, anticipating his next meal. She unwrapped him, delving beneath the blankets to check on the condition of his diaper, and her face flushed as she looked up at the man before her.

“I need to have a bit of privacy to change him, I fear. There are several clean diapers in my bag, if you’ll let me use a flat surface somewhere to clean him up a little.”

David smiled, his thoughts not altogether above reproach, for this young woman was appealing to him on a level he had not considered for some time. Her scent was fresh, clean and her face was akin to what he thought the young mother in Bethlehem might have looked like. Dark hair hung long, waving and thick, in a veil that almost covered her back. She was dressed in rough clothing, but everything about her was clean. Even the child she carried in her arms had not carried the scent of an unwashed body, but had been as fresh and clean as a babe could be.

Somewhere she had found resources to keep the child well fed and clean, and he admired the courage of a young woman so able to do her duty as she saw it. “How old is your little boy?” he asked, attempting to lure her into conversation, lest she be frightened and flee his house.

“He is three weeks old, sir. But he is not my child, but my baby brother. My mother and father died of the fever and he was born as my mother breathed her last.” Her head bent over the baby and a tear fell on the blanket, one he knew she’d tried not to shed, for she had been careful up until now not to show her emotional state.

“Bring him into the parlor,” David said, leading the way. “I’ll warm up the chicken and heat a bit of milk for his bottle while you change him and make him comfortable.”

Marianne followed him, thankful for his help, her stomach rumbling as she considered the meal she would eat at his table. Her bag held the clean diapers she’d washed earlier at Janet’s home, and in much less time than David had taken to do the same task she had changed and freshened Joshua’s bottom, then she wrapped him again and headed back to the kitchen.

Smells of food were welcome, for she knew she must keep up her strength, and she sat at the table once more, watching as the tall minister worked around the kitchen. Adept at his chores, he stirred the chicken as it simmered on the stove, took plates from the cupboard and found forks in a drawer, all simultaneous moves that astonished Marianne. Her own father had been useless in the kitchen, her mother had often said, for the man was more at home with cows and horses than in the house where the food was prepared.

This young minister seemed to know his way around the kitchen, and in just a few minutes he set a plate of chicken and gravy, side by side with a helping of mashed potatoes, in front of her. A plate of sliced bread and a pat of butter were between them as he settled into a seat across the table, with his own plate of food.

She watched as he lowered his head and spoke soft words of blessing on their food, then she picked up her fork, shamed by the trembling of her hand as she lifted it to her mouth. “I didn’t know I was so hungry,” she said quietly. The food was good, tasty and nourishing, for there were bits of carrots and peas mixed in with the gravy and the chunks of chicken were hearty and plenteous.

A slice of bread was halved and buttered and placed on her plate, and she smiled her thanks. “I suspect it might be difficult to deal with a baby and butter your bread at the same time,” David said with a smile.

Marianne had held Joshua across her arm as she ate, resting his bottle on her breast as he nursed, leaving her free to eat while feeding him. “I usually lay him across my lap and let him sleep while I eat,” Marianne told him. “But he’s wide-awake tonight for some reason. And until he finishes and gets rid of his burp, he’ll be restless.”

David smiled and a chuckle escaped his lips. “Probably because he slept all through the service tonight. He was behind me on a pew and I had hopes that I could outtalk him if he woke up before we were finished.”

“I didn’t see him up there,” Marianne said. “I wondered what you’d done with him, for I saw you carry him into the church.”

“What did you think would happen to him when you left him in the manger?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know, but I’d decided to watch until someone found him and then thought I might offer my services to help take care of him. I really didn’t plan ahead well, but when I saw the empty manger in front of the church, I knew I should put him there and hope for the best.”

“You’re a brave young woman.” He leveled his gaze at her and his voice was soft as he asked her name.

“Marianne Winters. Joshua, as I said, is my brother.”

And if she expected him to believe that, he’d do his best to accept her words as truth, David decided. For the child bore a definite likeness to her—eyes widespread, dark hair and a pointed chin that were small replicas of her own. If he was not Marianne’s own child, it would be a miracle, for being born in the midst of a typhoid epidemic such as the one running rampant over the county during the past month or so was a death sentence in itself. The child surely would have been exposed to the dread disease upon birth. To live through such a thing would have been a miracle.

“If you would like to stay here for the night, I have a spare room to offer you,” David said suddenly. Whether or not his congregation would approve was not an issue as far as he was concerned. This woman needed help and a warm place to sleep with her child, and it would not behoove him as a man of the church to cast her out into the cold. Perhaps she would be willing to work for her keep until she could find a job with enough pay to care for herself and her child.

“I need someone to keep house for me,” he began slowly, offering the idea for her to chew on. “Perhaps you would be interested in working here during the day and staying in a nearby home at night. I’d not be able to pay you a lot, but your food would be included in your wage and I don’t mind having the baby around.”

Marianne looked up in surprise. That such an offer might be made tonight was beyond her wildest dreams. And especially from a man living alone, a man who stood to ruin his good reputation if it became known that he had opened his home to a single woman and a child.

“I wouldn’t do anything to damage your name in town,” she said quietly. “I’m sure it would cause talk if I were to spend my days here, and even though I need work to support myself and Joshua, I hesitate to accept your offer.”

“Stay for tonight anyway, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings,” David said.

“Thank you, Reverend,” Marianne said, her words sincere, for she hadn’t expected such a welcome.

“My name is David. Would you mind calling me by name? It’s been a long time since anyone spoke to me without a title. Sometimes I yearn to be an ordinary man, and I fear that my congregation has put me in a box and labeled me as a man of the church, and I miss being just David McDermott.”

“Have you never been David to anyone here in town?” Marianne asked, seeking to know more about the man who sat so quietly across from her.

“My wife called me David, and had he lived, my son would be calling me Daddy by now, I think.” His eyes grew dark with sorrow as Marianne watched and she rued her words that had caused him such pain. Her hand patted Joshua’s back in a rhythmic fashion as he stirred against her shoulder, and she rubbed the length of his back, knowing that the burp he held within was making him restless.

It erupted on a loud note and Marianne laughed softly, bending to kiss the small head, accepting his offering gladly, for without it he would have slept badly. Now the chances were that he would last until morning without food, kept warm and cuddled closely as he seemed to enjoy.

“Thank you for the meal and for your help,” Marianne said, looking up at David as he cleared the table. His hands moved rapidly as he put the plates into the dishpan, the silverware with them, and then poured in hot water from the stove’s reservoir.

“I’d like to wash the dishes, if you’ll show me where to put the baby down,” she said, rising and looking about for a hallway that might lead to the bedrooms.

“Follow me,” David said quickly. “There are clean sheets on the bed in the spare room and we can leave the door open to let the heat from the stove enter. It’s the room closest to the kitchen, so he should be warm enough.”

The bedroom was small but clean, the bed covered with a handmade quilt, and two fat pillows were propped at the headboard. “This is lovely,” Marianne said, pulling back the quilt to place Joshua in the middle of the big bed.

“I wish I had a cradle to offer you for him, but the one I made for our son was given away after he and his mother died. I couldn’t stand to keep it in the house, and a lady outside town was having her first child and they couldn’t afford a bed for the baby. It seemed the right thing to do, so I offered the one I’d made. They put it to good use.”

Marianne’s heart ached for the loss he’d suffered and her tender heart went out to him, wishing she might have the words to offer that would give surcease to his pain.

“I’m sure your wife would have wanted someone else to use the cradle, David. I think she’d be happy to know that another child slept in it.”

“Thank you,” he said, avoiding her gaze, as if he hid a trace of tears in his eyes and did not want to share his grief.

Marianne propped pillows around Joshua, making sure that he was well padded so that should he wet his diaper it would not dampen the bedding. Then she went back to the kitchen and found a dishcloth, preparing to clean up the kitchen. It was a small matter, washing and drying the few dishes they’d used, cleaning out the pan he’d warmed the food in and then hanging the dish towel and cloth to dry on a small line he’d strung behind the stove.

She wiped the table clean, swept the floor and lowered the lamp a bit, to save the kerosene for another day. David sat at the table, paper and pen before him, bent over a letter he had begun.

“I’ll go on to bed now,” Marianne told him, walking to the bedroom doorway, then turning back to face him.

He looked up from his writing, his eyes distracted by her words, then he smiled. “I’m just writing a letter to my folks, back home in Ohio. I’m telling them about you and Joshua and the way you left him in the manger for me to find. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Will they think badly of me for abandoning my brother that way?”

He shook his head. “They’ll understand that you were desperate, that you had no resources to care for him by yourself. It was a smart move for you to make, actually. You just didn’t imagine that I would be the one to find him and take him indoors, did you?”

Marianne flushed uncomfortably, for she had indeed thought just such a thing might happen and her words verified that fact. “I thought perhaps a minister and his wife would care for a foundling like Joshua. I had no idea you were alone here in the parsonage.”

David smiled, his thoughts hidden from Marianne. “I think perhaps things worked out the way they were supposed to, anyway. I needed Joshua as much as he needed someone to care for him.”

“I’d have spent my whole life tending him if I could, Mr. McDermott.”

“I thought we’d gotten past the Mr. McDermott thing,” David said quietly. “I liked it much better when you called me by my given name. I felt we were becoming friends, Marianne.”

Bravely Marianne spoke her thoughts aloud. “I’d like to keep house for you, David, if the offer is still open. I’ll see if Janet will let me sleep at the store, and then I can come here during the day to cook and clean for you. In exchange, perhaps you would consider giving Joshua a home until I can provide for him.”

“I’ll want to talk to the men on my church board before I make a commitment to you, Marianne. I can’t do anything that would reflect badly on my position here, and I don’t want any hint of gossip to touch you or Joshua.”

“Can you do that? Talk to the men who run the church with you? Do you think they’ll object to such a plan?”

“They’ve known for quite a while that I need help in my home and surely it is an obvious solution to my problem and yours, too. I’ll speak to them after the Wednesday-night meeting.”

“And for tonight you think I should stay here in your spare room?”

He nodded agreeably. “I don’t see that we have any choice. Tomorrow is Christmas and the town will be closed up tighter than a drum, with folks celebrating with their families and such. Why don’t you plan on cooking dinner for me and getting Joshua settled in here? You can walk over and talk to Janet in the morning and sound her out about you staying at the store nights.”

Marianne considered the plan, not willing to put David to shame in any way, but the hour was late and the lights were out in the houses around them. It was beyond time for folks to be in bed and she accepted that her fate for this day was out of her hands.

“All right. We’ll do as you say, David. I’ll go on to bed now and be up early with the baby, then it will be time enough to cook your breakfast and take a walk to see Janet.”

He watched as she went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and his heart was full as he considered the day to come. He’d been beyond lonely without the companionship he’d come to enjoy with a wife. His years with Laura had been few, but his months without her had seemed an eternity, so quiet had been the house, so empty his heart.

For a moment he thought of another plan that might work, and decided to seek out Marianne’s thoughts in the morning. Should she be agreeable, they might be married and share the parsonage together, thus satisfying any gossip that might arise in town concerning her presence here. She was a lovely girl, with pleasing ways about her, and he didn’t doubt that she would be more than capable of running his home as his wife.

Whether or not Joshua was her own child or her brother, as she claimed, he was willing to accept her as she was, without any guarantees, and he might find an end to the long days and nights he’d spent alone.

He went to his bedroom and closed the door, aware that even through that stout panel he would hear should Joshua awaken during the night.

Chapter Three

The rooster in his neighbor’s chicken coop sounded his usual early-morning call, and David pulled the quilt up over his head, unwilling to leave the warmth of the dream he had enjoyed for the past few minutes. A dark-haired girl, her form slender yet pleasingly curved, had been featured throughout the night hours, and his sleep had been broken, his eyes opening suddenly several times as he awoke from nocturnal thoughts that were far from dignified.

He sat up suddenly, recalling the heated dreams he’d indulged in, and his heart stuttered within him as he considered the woman in the next room. Even as he thought of her, he heard the movement beyond his bedroom wall as she arose, heard the small, soft sounds of a baby’s cry as Joshua awoke, announcing his hunger aloud.

His trousers were on the bedpost and David slid into them quickly, made haste to don his shoes and stockings, tucked his shirt into his pants hurriedly and went to the kitchen.

He found Marianne there before him, intent on heating milk for Joshua’s breakfast. She’d put on a small pan, warming an amount of milk from his pantry that would be sufficient to fill the baby bottle she was washing in the sink. He watched her from the doorway, noting her quick movements, the soft curves of her arms as she worked the pump handle, the sway of her hips as she turned back to the stove to rescue the milk, lest it be too hot for the baby.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her. Her head turned quickly to where he stood and a rosy flush covered her cheeks, as if she had been trying to be quiet and had still disturbed his sleep.

“I tried not to wake you,” she said, and he smiled, aware that he had read her aright.

“That’s all right. It was time for me to be up and about anyway. The rooster always sounds his alarm at dawn, and I find it a good time to begin my day.”

She poured the warmed milk into the bottle, careful not to spill any on the stove, and he watched her graceful movements, his breath coming quickly as he bent his appreciative gaze on her. The nipple was snapped into place and she turned her attention to him quickly.

“I’ll just go and get Joshua and feed him before I make your breakfast,” she said, heading for the spare room.

“Why not bring him out here and let me feed him and you can go ahead with breakfast. We’ll kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Her smile was quick and ready, and he basked in the warmth of it. “I’ll wait here in the rocking chair.” And for the first time in months he sat in the rocker he’d bought for Laura during her pregnancy, pressing his foot against the floor in a slow fashion, allowing the chair to perform as it had been constructed to do.

Marianne came back from the bedroom, Joshua wrapped securely in his blanket, and collected the bottle from the table as she approached David. Her arms were extended to him and he took the small bundle from her, feeling an emotion akin to sorrow as he held the tiny mite against his chest. So might he have held the child Laura had borne months ago, and he caught his breath quickly, lest Marianne think he did not want to feed Joshua as he’d offered.

His eyes felt damp with tears that he refused to shed. Not that it was a matter of manliness or masculine pride, but he would not make her uncomfortable with his spasm of sorrow. His grief was no longer fresh, and he found that he spent hours without its presence in his heart. Now he had the opportunity of holding a child, though not his own, yet in a sense he felt a kinship to Joshua.

That he had found the child in his manger in the midst of the Nativity scene he’d constructed with his own hands was certainly part of his feeling of ownership of the child. Though children could not be possessed as might a dog or cow or some other belonging, he felt that Joshua was meant in some distinct way to be a part of his life. He had had a wife, never treating her as a possession, but as a partner in the wonders of marriage. They had been happy together, her cheerful demeanor giving him joy each day, her loving arms filling him with the satisfaction of a relationship that went beyond friendship, and hovered on the edge of love.

He’d made the mistake of not speaking his love aloud to Laura, assuming that she knew of his devotion to her, and had spent long hours of regret after her death, that he had never declared his heart aloud. Should he ever have the opportunity again to share such a relationship with a woman, he would not make the same mistake, he vowed silently.

And then he cuddled the baby against him, testing the warmth of the milk in the palm of his hand as he offered the nipple to Joshua’s rosy mouth. With gusto the baby attached himself to the rubber nipple and nursed. The span of eight hours or so had made him hungry and he clung tightly to the source of nourishment, almost choking on the abundance of milk he consumed.

Finally he released the nipple and his burp was loud and long, Marianne turning from the stove to laugh at him.

“He has no manners to speak of,” she said with a joyous light in her eyes. “I’ve never enjoyed anything so much in my life as I have tending him over the past weeks. He keeps my grief at bay somehow. Even though I miss my parents terribly, he manages to soothe my heartache.” Her words were soft, almost whispered, but David heard them clearly, knowing the truth in what she said, for she did not seem to have any sense of protecting herself from him. She was open and her heart was clearly involved in the child he held.

He watched her as she sliced bacon and placed it in his skillet, cracked eggs and whipped them to a froth with a turning fork, then poured the mixture into a second skillet. Bread was sliced and she slid it into the oven, lifting a stove lid to check the flames within. She was efficient, capable of tending to the making of a meal, and she’d obviously been well trained in her skills in the kitchen.

“Did you cook for your mother and father?” he asked, and she nodded, as if unable to speak of it aloud. He thought her shoulders trembled as she faced the stove and then she uttered words of regret, making him sorry he’d asked his question.

“I used to think it was a chore to cook sometimes, but my mother was not well when she carried Joshua and I had the full load of tending the kitchen and keeping the house clean. I thought if I were cooking for a family of my own it might have been more enjoyable, but I could foresee years ahead of helping with my parents and the child that came so late in their lives. They had not expected to have more children after I was born, for my mother bore several infants born too soon and they were not able to survive. There were four graves beyond our orchard, and she was not happy when she discovered that Joshua was on his way, for she was certain that he would share a similar fate with those who had come before.”

“How fortunate that he was a survivor,” David said softly, looking down at the sleeping child he held. The bottle was almost empty and the baby had bubbled a drop of milk from his mouth, making David yearn to bend low to kiss it away.

“My mother would have been heartbroken had he not lived. I like to think that she knew somehow that he was a healthy child even though she died in birthing him. It wasn’t the birth that caused her death, but the fever she had suffered with for two days. The doctor said it was a miracle that Joshua hadn’t succumbed to it himself, but he didn’t ever show signs of sickness, right from the first. I think he was meant to live.”

“I agree with you, Marianne. He has a purpose in life to fulfill, as do we all. Your mother’s may have been in bearing him and giving him life. We have no way of knowing what lies ahead for a child, only that we must do our best to raise him in such a way that he be a good man and a credit to his parents.”

“I’ll do my best to fulfill my mother’s dreams for him, David. She and my father were so looking forward to his birth, and it seemed I was bitter and angry with God for taking their lives just when it seemed happiness was in their future.”

“We don’t know why things happen the way they do, Marianne, but I’m sure Joshua will be a good man, with you to raise him and provide for him.”

She put two plates on the table, steam rising from the scrambled eggs, and then retrieved the bread from the oven, where it had toasted golden-brown. “Let me take Joshua now,” she said, moving toward the rocking chair, her arms outstretched. She took him carefully in her arms, bent to press her lips on his forehead and carried him to the bedroom.

Within moments she was back, taking her seat at the table, across from where David awaited her presence. He bent his head and spoke brief words of thanks for the food, asking a special thanksgiving for the joyous blessings of Christmas, and then lifted his eyes to meet her gaze.

“Eat while it’s hot, Marianne. We have things to tend to this morning. I haven’t found it in my heart to celebrate Christmas this year, but I find that there is reason to rejoice today. I’m going to speak to our mayor this morning. I don’t want to interrupt his holiday with his family, but I think he will understand the reason for my concern.”