was probably correct, and his chest squeezed with sympathy. He anxiously wondered where the mysterious young mother was and what she must have been feeling to leave her precious baby in the care of strangers.
He would make this right. He had to. Although he couldn’t fathom a reason for it, God must have His reasons for depositing the baby into Shawn’s care. He could do no less than follow this thing through to the end. It didn’t matter that he had no training in infant care or that he hardly even knew which end of a bottle was up. God willing, he’d figure it out.
He’d been having a running conversation with God ever since the moment he’d first seen the small movement in the hay, and he wasn’t about to stop praying now, not when he was facing the possibility of walking a tightrope with no safety net underneath him.
“So the question remains,” he said, knowing even before he asked that he was committing himself to something far beyond his scope of expertise. “What are we going to do with an abandoned baby on Christmas Eve?”
“I suppose one of us could drive her into San Antonio, if we can rustle up an infant car seat somewhere,” suggested Brody, although with the catch in his voice, he didn’t sound particularly warm to the idea.
“And do what with her once you get there?”
Shawn thought he detected an edge of panic in Heather’s voice and discreetly narrowed his eyes on her.
Yes, there it was. The flare in the black irises of her eyes, which were surrounded by a beautiful hazel color. She was afraid for this baby. So was Shawn. They all were. Every person in the room knew what taking Noelle to San Antonio in the middle of the night on a holiday would mean—dropping her into the inhospitable hands of an aloof system where she would have no one to be her personal advocate.
But Noelle had an advocate. Shawn.
“Do we have a legal obligation to make a permanent decision about her situation tonight?” Shawn piped up. Maybe with a little time they could figure out a better plan.
Slade raised his dark eyebrows. “Well, eventually we’ll have to report her to the proper authorities. Texas social services will want to know about her. But that does not necessarily have to happen tonight. If I’m not mistaken, we have somewhere around one business day to bring her to the attention of the state. The fact that it’s Christmas Eve works in our favor, if you’re wanting to hold off a bit. Is that what you want? And if you don’t mind my asking, why? What do you have in mind?”
“Yes, dear,” Jo urged, patting Shawn’s forearm. “Tell us—what’s your plan?”
“I’m not— That is, I don’t have a plan. I just can’t help but feel this baby was sent to us, to our town, to this church.”
To me. He wasn’t about to say those words out loud, but he was certainly thinking about them.
“I agree,” said Jo. “We know our good Lord. He doesn’t make mistakes. Somehow this baby is part of His good and perfect gift to us.”
“Amen to that,” Delia agreed, adjusting the stethoscope draped around her neck.
Shawn’s heart welled even as his stomach tightened. Jo had the extraordinary ability to see the good in everything and everyone, along with the uncanny ability to be able to remind others of God’s hand in their life circumstances.
But how could an abandoned baby be a gift from God?
Shawn acknowledged in his heart that the Lord could turn even the worst of circumstances into blessings, but he was struggling to wrap his mind around it. Whatever God had planned for them and for this child, it was beyond his ability to see.
“If we’re not going to take Noelle to San Antonio tonight,” Slade said, his even tone indicating the statement was a fact and not so much a question, “then what are we going to do with her?”
Shawn took a deep breath and stepped out onto the wire, knowing there was no net below him. If he looked down he knew he would take a mental nosedive, so instead he stared into the stormy blue-eyed gaze of baby Noelle.
“I’ll take care of her.”
* * *
Shawn taking baby Noelle overnight sounded like a reasonable enough plan, at least until four o’clock in the morning came and went and he hadn’t gotten a single moment of sleep. The small gathering of neighbors had loaded him up with suggestions on baby care, wished him well and then gone home to catch a few hours of shut-eye before Christmas morning dawned, where they would celebrate with their own families.
Shawn had mistakenly thought he had everything under control. How hard could it be, really?
Ha! The joke was on him. The Lord certainly had a sense of humor.
He groaned and smothered a yawn. Instead of enjoying a happy snooze with sugarplums dancing in his head as he would have done if he’d gone home alone, he was pacing the hallway with an unappeasably fussy baby.
Holding her close to his heart, he gently patted her back in a slow, steady rhythm. The little bundle of joy wasn’t the least bit happy, and he hadn’t a clue what to do for her. He wished he knew what was wrong so he could fix the problem.
After a bottle of formula and a diaper change, Noelle had initially drifted off to sleep. Shawn had thrown together a makeshift bassinet from a shallow plastic bin and some blankets and placed it by the side of his own bed. All was calm—and bright.
For about five seconds.
No sooner had he laid his head on the pillow than Noelle started to wail. And wow, but the kid had a pair of lungs.
He shuffled through his mental list. Diaper changed. Warm bottle. Patting her back to help her remove any lingering bubbles in her tummy. Swaddled. Multiple attempts at a pacifier, although he’d qualified that as a fail, since he couldn’t even get the baby girl to keep it in her mouth.
Nothing seemed to work. If anything, the more attention he paid to Noelle, the harder she cried, and now she was making little hic sounds when she breathed. He was afraid she was hyperventilating.
Could babies hyperventilate? It frightened him that he didn’t even know the answer to that question.
What if she passed out? What if something was seriously the matter with her? Had Dr. Delia missed something critical when she’d examined the baby?
Noelle scrunched up her tiny face and sneezed. Shawn reached for his cell phone, then stopped and shook his head, laughing at how easily flustered he was getting.
Who was he going to call? Emergency services? And say what?
Hello, can you help me? My baby just sneezed!
“I’m overreacting, aren’t I, little darlin’?” he murmured to Noelle. Her face relaxed, and she quieted, appearing to respond to the sound of his voice. Well, that was good, right? He kept talking. “Let me tell you, sweetheart, I have a brand-new appreciation for the parents of infants. Is this what Eli and Mary are going through every night right now? Huh? You think?”
Noelle sneezed again.
“Uh-oh. I hope you’re not
