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Ben's Bundle of Joy
Lenora Worth


Reverend Ben Hunter hurried through the halls of his church, looking for help–or at least lessons in taking care of babies. Little Tyler had been left in the church pew with a note attached to his makeshift crib.Someone thought that Ben would make the perfect father for the baby. And the beautiful daycare teacher, Sara Conroy, had to agree. As soon as she saw Tyler nestled so safely in Ben's arms, Sara knew that the man was meant to have a family of his own. With his strong faith and Sara's love, could Ben Hunter find the happiness that he so deserved?







“I don’t want to disappoint you, but

I’m not sure that I can take care of a

baby,” Ben said.

Sara grabbed Ben’s shirtsleeve. “You’re not thinking of sending him away, are you? After all, they left the baby with you. You can’t send little Tyler away without even trying to help him.”

The doctor came in, smiled at them, then went right to Tyler’s bed. “Well, well, Reverend. Let’s have a look at your little bundle of joy.”

Ben glanced at his friend, then back to the red-haired, obviously determined woman flashing green fire at him. “I just don’t know…”

“I’ll help you with Tyler,” she offered. “You should keep him here, surrounded by people who care, until we can decide what to do.”

Ben could only nod. Sara certainly seemed determined to keep the baby nearby, but he wasn’t so sure. But God didn’t always send His answers in the easiest, most convenient packages. Sometimes they came in the form of an adorable baby and a red-haired woman with attitude.


LENORA WORTH

grew up in a small Georgia town and decided in the fourth grade that she wanted to be a writer. But first she married her high school sweetheart, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Taking care of their baby daughter at home while her husband worked at night, Lenora discovered the world of romance novels and knew that’s what she wanted to write. And so she began.

A few years later, the family settled in Shreveport, Louisiana, where Lenora continued to write while working as a marketing assistant. After the birth of her second child, a boy, she decided to pursue her dream full-time. In 1993 Lenora’s hard work and determination finally paid off with that first sale.

“I never gave up, and I believe my faith in God helped get me through the rough times when I doubted myself,” Lenora says. “Each time I start a new book, I say a prayer, asking God to give me the strength and direction to put the words to paper. That’s why I’m so thrilled to be a part of Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line, where I can combine my faith in God with my love of romance. It’s the best combination.”




Ben’s Bundle of Joy

Lenora Worth







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For you were once darkness, but you are light in the

Lord. Walk as children of the light.

—Ephesians 5:8


To Anne Canadeo, with gratitude and appreciation


Dear Reader,

Being a part of this series was such a joy for me. At first it was hard bringing to life characters that someone else had created, but the more involved I became with Ben and Sara and little Tyler, the more fun I had.

I learned so much from this story and these characters. Being a Christian sometimes means that others think of us as picture perfect, almost above reproach. But we’re not. We’re just humans who struggle every day with right and wrong, good and bad, grief and joy. But we know that we have someone to turn to, in the good times and the bad.

Sara learned that lesson when she saw just how much she’d been missing without God’s guidance in her life, and Ben had to remember that not only was he a minister to serve God and others, but he had to also minister to himself. They both stepped out of the darkness and into the light, and together they found their joy. I hope this story brings you a little bit of lightness and joy.

Until next time, may the angels watch over you while you sleep.









Contents


Chapter One (#ua754143d-3aed-5cad-ae5f-8d35457f08b4)

Chapter Two (#u5a317a3c-13c7-568e-9f84-91967bdbe93e)

Chapter Three (#ubbfd2d71-3a8a-54f1-8f2f-20a68bdcc6ee)

Chapter Four (#u351d544c-9e30-5834-9b0f-9cd8258731ca)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


Deep within the still, peaceful confines of the old church, he thought he heard a baby’s soft cry. Glancing up, Reverend Ben Hunter decided he must be imagining things. He was alone in the church, alone with the brilliance of stained-glass windows on a crisp, sunny October morning, alone with his own unvoiced thoughts and unanswered prayers. It was too early in the day and way too quiet for any of his overly protective members to be paying a visit to the sanctuary of The Old First Church of Fairweather, Minnesota.

At least he hoped so.

Ben liked being alone. Not that he minded having to deal with his congregation and their joys and concerns on a daily basis, but he craved the peace and solitude of his private early-morning devotionals here in the church that he’d called home for the past three years. But was this really his home? Would it ever be?

He didn’t get a chance to ponder that particular prayer request. The cry came again, this time impatient and almost angry, but still soft, like the mewling of a kitten.

Lifting his athletic frame off the aged pine pew in the middle of the small church, Ben shook his head as he followed the sound toward the back. “Not another kitten. Emma, Emma, when will you stop trying to push pets off on me?”

He knew the church secretary, Emma Fulton, meant well. Emma was a social butterfly. She liked being the center of attention, and she liked having people and pets around all the time. So, naturally she thought Ben needed the same in his life—for companionship. Which meant she was constantly trying to fix him up with either blind dates or abandoned animals. Ben didn’t know which was worse—the setups never panned out because he usually never heard from the ladies again, and because he couldn’t turn the animals away, he was slowly collecting a small zoo. At least the animals took a liking to him, even if none of the single women in town did.

“I can’t take any more strays, Emma,” he said, his voice echoing over the cream-colored walls and vaulted, beamed ceiling of the antique church. He half expected the plump secretary to jump out from behind a pew, singing one of her favorite hymns. As he reached the back of the church, though, Ben stopped and stared into the sturdy cardboard box someone had left on the pew. This was no ordinary stray.

This one was human. A baby. A tiny newborn baby lay kicking and whining in the box, mounds of blankets encasing the ruddy little body.

“Well, hello there,” Ben said, glancing around to see if anyone would come out and lay claim to the infant. “How did you get here, little one?”

This time the baby’s cry grew louder, more demanding. Not sure what to do, Ben reached down and lifted the infant out of the box, careful to keep it wrapped in the protective blue blankets someone had left with it. As Ben lifted the child, a note fluttered out from the folds of the blanket.

Sweeping a hand down to catch the note, Ben held tight to the baby in his arms. “Let’s see what this says.”

Carefully Ben balanced the wiggling bundle in his arms, so he could unfold the note and read it over the cries of the baby.

“‘Reverend Ben, this is Tyler. He is one month old. I know you will take good care of him.’”

Stunned, Ben dropped the note back into the empty box, then stared blankly down at the little baby boy in his arms.

“Tyler?” The infant answered him with a lusty cry.

“You’re probably hungry…and wet,” Ben said as he shifted the child in his arms. “And I don’t have any food or diapers.” Then, in spite of his concern, he smiled. “But I certainly know someone who does.”

Sara Conroy glanced up just in time to see the tall man with the baby coming directly toward her. The man, handsome in a gentle kind of way, seemed frantic in his efforts to calm the screaming baby. Sara watched, somewhat amused, as he looked up, his incredible blue eyes latching on to her as he headed down the center of the tidy, colorful classroom. He walked carefully so as to avoid stepping on crawling toddlers in his haste.

“Where’s Maggie?” the man asked, his tone breathless in spite of the deep tremor of his voice. “I need her, right now.”

Sara raised a hand, then tossed back her shoulder-length curly red hair. “Hold on there, Daddy. What’s the problem?” Automatically she reached out to take the baby from him.

“This…” the man said, gladly handing the infant over to her. Scissoring a hand through his curly brown locks, he said, “I found him…in the church…a few minutes ago. He’s hungry—” here he wiped one hand down the side of his jeans “—and very wet.”

Spurred into action, Sara glanced over the baby in her arms. “You found him?”

Ben let out a long sigh. “Yes. Someone left him on a church pew. I heard him crying—” He stopped, his gaze shifting from the baby to Sara’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m Ben Hunter. And you must be Maggie’s replacement.”

“Sara Conroy.” She nodded, then lifted her eyes to meet his. “Calm down, Reverend. He won’t break, but we do need to check him over. And we’ll have to call social services, of course.”

“Why?” Ben watched as she gently settled the bawling baby down on a changing table, then moved her hands expertly over his little, thrashing body.

“Well, this child was obviously abandoned,” Sara explained, concern for the baby evident in her words. “We have to alert the proper authorities.” She automatically handed him a sanitized baby wipe to clean his hands.

Ben relaxed a little, then leaned into a nearby counter. “You’re right, of course. There was a note. His name is Tyler and someone seems to think I can take care of him. Is he…is everything all right?”

“I think so,” Sara said. At his doubtful look, she added, “I was a pediatric nurse back in St. Paul. He seems healthy—no fever, no signs of exposure or respiratory problems, but we should have a doctor check him out, just the same.”

Ben threw the wipe into a trash can. “I’ll call Morgan Talbot. He’s the local favorite with all the kids.”

Sara nodded. “Yes, I met Dr. Talbot just the other day.” Glancing over her shoulder to make sure the other children in her care were safe, she buzzed one of the aides. “Abby, can you bring me a warm bottle of formula from our extra supplies?” Then, while Ben called Dr. Talbot, she changed the baby’s soiled diaper and found an extra set of flannel pajamas the day-care center kept on hand in a clothes bin. “We’ll get him fed and quiet, at least. He’ll probably sleep the morning away, poor little fellow.”

After hanging up the phone, Ben watched as Sara Conroy went about her work, amazed at how calm and collected she was. Even with a baby in her arms and children pulling at her long denim skirt, she still managed to somehow keep everything under control. Within minutes, she had Abby entertaining the older children while she sat in a cane-backed rocking chair and fed little Tyler.

“You look right at home here,” he said a few minutes later as Sara laid the contented Tyler down in a nearby bassinet.

“I love children,” she said, her expression growing soft as she gazed down at the baby.

He couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked with her red hair glinting in the bright sunshine that streamed in through the big windows. She had a serene smile, and her eyes were every bit as green as a Minnesota spring, but there was something else about Sara Conroy. She had attitude. Big-city attitude. He could see it in her stance, in the way she carried herself—a little self-assured, a little hard-nosed and tough, maybe a little cynical and wary, and a whole lot weary. Sara Conroy would not take anything off anybody, he imagined.

Even a small-town minister who hadn’t quite found his footing and certainly didn’t want to part with his heart ever again.

“Well, you don’t have to stare,” Sara said, causing Ben to quickly glance away and then back, a grin on his face.

“Sorry, it’s just…you’re not from around these parts. St. Paul, did you say?”

“Yeah, but last time I checked, St. Paul women look and act pretty much the same as other women, especially when a handsome man keeps staring at them.”

He actually blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s just been one of those mornings. First, finding the baby, then finding…you. Not your typical Monday morning.”

She lifted a slanted brow. “You were expecting Maggie, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I forgot she’s out on extended maternity leave. Doctor’s orders. She can’t risk losing that baby.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Sara said, motioning for him to come into the little office just off the nursery. Turning as Ben followed her, she settled down in the desk chair and smiled up at him. “Have a seat. Less noise in here. We can talk while Abby reads to the children.”

“Is that really why you’re here?” he asked, surprising himself and Sara. “I mean, why would you give up being a pediatric nurse to work in a church day-care center?”

Sara took her time in answering. “I guess that’s a fair question.”

“But none of my business?”

“No, no.” She held up a hand. “It’s okay, really. It’s just hard sometimes.”

“Then you don’t have to talk about it.”

But she needed to talk about it and he seemed like a good listener. Being a minister probably made him an expert listener. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he was intriguing in his shy, quiet way, and handsome in a rugged, unpolished way. Completely opposite from Steven.

Not wanting to dwell on her ex-fiancé and his many flaws, Sara shrugged then said, “My mother died recently. She had Alzheimer’s and it was up to me to take care of her in her final days. Once it was all over, I realized I needed a break, something less stressful. Maggie suggested I come here, to take her place for a while.”

He leaned back on a table. “I’m sorry about your mother. That must have been very hard on you.”

“It was,” she replied, some of the brightness leaving her eyes. “It wasn’t easy, watching her deteriorate right before my eyes. But…we always depended on each other. She didn’t have anyone else. It was up to me.”

Ben reached out a hand to touch hers. “Sounds like you did need a break. Maggie is good at suggesting things like that. She cares about people.”

“She saved my life,” Sara said, then instantly regretted it. “I mean—she called me at exactly the right time. I was on my last legs. Just exhausted.”

“Physically and spiritually,” Ben added, his blue eyes filled with compassion and understanding.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Refusing to give in to the luxury of self-pity, Sara stood up. “But I’m doing okay. I’m all settled in out on the lake and I do love the peacefulness of this place. Less hectic than the big city.”

Ben lifted off the table to follow her out into the long, colorful nursery. “But not nearly as exciting?”

Sara’s little bubble of a laugh magnified her dimples.

“What’s so funny?” Ben asked, captivated.

“Well, Reverend, I’d say my first morning here has been rather exciting, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I guess it has.” He glanced down at Tyler’s pink face. “He’s a handsome baby, isn’t he?”

“Beautiful,” Sara said, the word filled with awe. “I wonder why someone would abandon him like that.”

“I don’t know,” Ben replied. “And why with me, of all people?”

Sara gave him another direct look, again taking her time to answer. “Because, like the note said—whoever left Tyler with you thinks you can take care of him. And I think maybe they’re right.”

“You think that—based on me rushing in here to hand this baby over to the first person I could find?”

“I think that—based on the concerned expression on your face when you brought him, the way you handled him and the way you looked down at him when we finally got him settled. I’ve worked with a lot of parents and children, Reverend, and it’s taught me to be a pretty good judge of character.” She lifted her head, then folded her arms over her leaf-patterned sweater. “Besides, Maggie has already sang your praises. And that’s good enough for me.”

Her smile was full of confidence and assurance. But Ben didn’t feel so confident or so assured. “We’ll have to see about all of that,” he said, looking up to see Dr. Morgan Talbot weaving his way through the toys and toddlers in the room. “I don’t want to disappoint you, or Maggie, but I’m not sure I’m up to taking care of an infant.”

Sara grabbed Ben’s shirtsleeve. “You’re not thinking of sending him away, are you?”

Ben hesitated, then whispered. “I just thought foster parents might be better equipped—”

Sara shook her head. “They left the baby with you. You can’t send little Tyler away without even trying to help him.”

Morgan came in, smiled at them, then went right to Tyler’s bed. “Well, well, Reverend, let’s have a look at your little bundle of joy.”

Ben glanced at his friend, then back to the red-haired, obviously determined woman flashing green fire at him. “I just don’t know—”

“I’ll help you,” she offered, shocking herself in the process. “I’ll help you with Tyler. You should keep him here, surrounded by people who care, until we can decide what to do about him. I’m sure social services will agree.”

Ben could only nod. She certainly seemed determined to keep the baby nearby, but he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure at all. This was just one more burden, one more test, and he didn’t think he could bear up underneath much more.

But Ben knew that God didn’t always send His answers in the easiest, most convenient packages. Sometimes they came in the form of crying babies and red-haired women with attitude. Whether you wanted them to or not.

“The baby is in good shape,” Morgan told Ben later as they both stood over the bassinet. “He looks completely healthy to me.”

“That’s a relief, at least,” Ben said, one hand automatically touching the tiny fingers of the sleeping infant.

“What are you going to do about him?” Morgan asked, a faint smile on his lips.

“That’s a good question.” Ben let out a sigh, then glanced around the empty nursery. Sara and Abby had taken the other children outside for some fresh air before lunch and nap time. “I don’t think I’m qualified to care for a baby.”

“Someone obviously thought you were.”

“Well, that someone obviously wasn’t thinking this thing through.” He shook his head, then turned to stare out the window where the children toddled here and there on the miniature playground equipment. “I’ve got a meeting with a woman from social services in a few minutes, to decide. Sara seems to think I should keep Tyler here for a little while at least.”

“Sara?” Morgan glanced in the direction of his friend’s gaze. “Oh, that Sara. She comes highly recommended, you know. A friend of Maggie’s, I believe, from college. And fast becoming a friend of Rachel’s, too. My wife met Sara after church yesterday when she went over to visit with Maggie.”

“She’s nice enough,” Ben admitted, his eyes on the smiling woman sitting in a pile of leaves, surrounded by children. He had to smile when she let one of the toddlers drop leaves on top of her head. As she shook her long, wavy hair and laughed, the varying shades of red and orange foliage merged with the brilliant auburn of her shining curls. “Maybe she should take Tyler. She was a pediatric nurse, and she seems to love her work here.”

“They didn’t leave Tyler at her door, friend,” the doctor reminded him. “They left the baby with you.”

“So you’re casting your lot with Sara?”

“I’m casting my lot with you, Reverend. I trust you to do what is best for this child. And for yourself.”

Ben whirled to stare at his friend. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” Morgan grabbed his wind jacket and started for the door. “You’ve just seemed…well, a bit restless lately, Ben. Like you’re not quite settled.”

“I don’t know that I am settled. Every time I think I’ve won the congregation over, something comes up and I’m right back in the middle of a dispute.”

“Give them time,” Morgan told him with a friendly hand on his arm. “Some of these members have been in this church for well over thirty years. They are definitely set in their ways.”

Ben nodded. “And dead set against me and my newfangled changes. Last week, someone complained because I played the guitar during the service. Said he liked the pipe organ just fine, thank you very much. You’d think after three years—”

“Yeah, you’d think,” Morgan said, grinning. “Three years is not much time, considering Reverend Olsen was their minister for most of his life—and thankfully, he never attempted to play any instruments. You’ve at least got him beat in that particular talent.”

“He was a very patient man,” Ben said as he waved Morgan out the door. “I’ll be all right. Finding a baby at my door has just thrown me for a loop. Hey, tell Sara I’m going to wait in here for the police and social services.”

“Okay.” Morgan gave him a salute, then called, “How about a game of one-on-one this afternoon? I think it’s my turn to win.”

Ben nodded. “Okay, hoops on the church court, right after work.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Ben turned back to the sleeping baby, taking the time to enjoy the quiet that had fallen over the usually noisy room. He closed his eyes and stood there for just a minute, a silent prayer forming in his heart. Lord, show me what to do.

Then he lifted his head, his gaze searching out the intriguing woman who’d already issued him a challenge. Sara glanced up at him, waved, then grabbed a cute little blond-haired girl and lifted her onto the tiny swing. Soon she had the child going back and forth in an arc of rainbow swirls. They sure made a pretty picture.

So pretty, that Ben had to look away. He’d often thought he’d have a family one day, but it wasn’t meant to be. He was alone again, with not a sound to disturb him.

Except for the faint, rhythmic breathing of the baby someone had left in his care.




Chapter Two


“We really don’t have much choice.”

Betty Anderson looked at the crowd of people gathered in her office at The Old First Church Day-care Center, her reading glasses tipped precariously on the end of her pert nose. “I think Ben will make a fine temporary guardian for Tyler.”

“I agree.” The chief of police, Samuel Riley, a short, round man with white hair and a beard that always got him the part of Santa in the church Christmas functions, nodded his head so vigorously that his ruddy double chin rolled up against his chest. “Ben, with all this red tape we have to wade through with social services and child welfare, and given the fact that we’ve never had anything like this occur in Fairweather, I think you’re the best candidate for taking care of the baby at this point—just until we can weigh all the facts and find out exactly what the proper procedure is around here.”

“It would only be for a few days, a week at most,” Betty pointed out. “And, Ben, you know we’ll all pitch in. You can bring Tyler here every day during the week. Sara has already agreed to watch him for you—whenever you need her to.” Her smile indicated she was immensely pleased with Sara’s offer.

“I’ll even go over the basics with you, step by step,” Sara told him, that glint of a challenge in her green eyes.

“I appreciate that,” Ben replied, his eyes touching on Sara Conroy’s face as he sat back in his chair. It was late in the day and Tyler was safe in the infant room with all the other children. But it had been a long and trying day for Ben. Not only had he had to go round and round with the police, but the child welfare office in Minneapolis hadn’t offered up much help, either. The closest available foster family they could come up with was in St. Paul. And everyone agreed that the baby shouldn’t be carted off to the big city—not when he had a loving, supportive community of people right here, willing to help take care of him. The authorities had pulled what strings they could, to keep the child here.

But, ultimately, the responsibility rested with Ben. He didn’t want to send the baby away any more than the rest of them. And he was fast losing the battle against his own insecurities and doubts. “I’ll need lots of help,” he said at last. “I don’t know a whole lot about babies.”

“You can hold your own,” Betty told him as she took off her glasses and came around the desk. “I’ve seen you with the children right here. They love you.” At his doubtful look, she added, “You’ll be just fine, Ben.”

“Okay.” Ben scissored his fingers through his hair, then let out a long sigh. “Guess I’m a temporary father.”

Betty patted him on the arm. “I’ll have Warren load a bassinet and all the other equipment to take to the parsonage. And I’ve already been to the grocery store—got you plenty of formula and diapers. And I even bought two of the cutest little outfits—nice and warm, with teddy bears and baseballs.”

“Thanks, Betty.” Ben got up, then looked over at Sara. She sure seemed amused with all of this. “Well, time to pay up, Miss Conroy. Want to come to my house and show me how to mix up formula?”

“Does this count as our first date?” she teased, in a voice meant for Ben’s ears only.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in me, except in a strictly temporary guardian capacity,” he shot back. “Since you seemed so determined for me to take this foundling.”

Lifting her brows in surprise, she retorted, “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to come and visit you, Reverend.”

She was rewarded with another blush. Not used to flirting, or being flirted with, Ben did manage a glib reply. “All you had to do was ask.”

Sara laughed, then moved past him. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

“Do you know the way?”

“Julianne pointed your house out to me when we took a walk at lunch,” she told him.

“And just so you’ll know,” Betty interjected, “Emma has already told Sara that you are single and in need of female companionship.”

Ben groaned while Sara nodded, that amused look coloring her face. “And she grilled me, so I’ll just go ahead and get the awkward questions out of the way. Yes, I’m single, but no, I’m not interested in any type of long-term commitments, and yes, I just want a little peace and quiet, but yes, I’m more than willing to help you with Tyler.”

“So much for our first date,” Ben said, an uncomfortable grin pinching his face. Somehow though, he felt disappointed that she’d answered all his questions before he’d even had a chance to ask them. Oh, well, that was probably for the best. He had a full plate—no time for starting a heavy personal relationship, and Sara Conroy struck him as a no-nonsense, tough-minded woman. It would be hard to win her over.

“You don’t have to look so relieved,” Sara said as they made their way up the hall to the nursery.

Ben felt sheepish and knew he was a coward. “I’m sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“And becoming a temporary father hasn’t helped?”

He stopped as they reached the room where the babies up to one year old spent most of their days while their mothers worked. It was a colorful, playful room with a painted mural of Noah’s ark centered on one wall, and various other bright Biblical figures painted on every available surface.

The room was quiet now; most of the parents had already come to claim their little ones and the aides were busy cleaning up for the day. Outside, the burnished sunset that proclaimed Minnesota in the fall shined golden and promising.

“I’ll take care of Tyler,” he said, more to himself than to Sara. “I just wish I could help the person who left him here. Whoever did it, must have been so desperate, so alone. His mother is probably out there somewhere right now, wondering if she did the right thing.”

Sara watched the man standing beside her, and felt a tug at her heartstrings that almost took her breath away.

Almost. Hadn’t she just five minutes earlier told Ben in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t interested in any kind of romantic relationship? Hadn’t she pledged to avoid opening up her heart to that kind of pain ever again?

Remember, Sara, she reminded herself, time and circumstance can ruin any relationship.

That’s exactly what had happened with Steven. She’d never had the time to give to him, to nurture what they had together, and because of the circumstances—her mother, his work—he’d taken a job in Atlanta, Georgia, far away from the cold winters of Minnesota and far away from what he’d termed her cold heart.

But this man, this man would understand why she’d had to sacrifice so much for her own work and her mother’s illness. This man, this gentle, kind man, would do the same thing. He was doing the same thing by taking in Tyler.

Somehow, knowing that warmed her, melting away the layers of hardness she’d wrapped around her heart. But with that warmth came a warning—to take care, to be cautious.

Time and circumstance could once again bring her pain. She only had a little time here before she’d have to make a decision regarding her job back in St. Paul, and she wouldn’t let the circumstance of an abandoned baby trick her into thinking she, too, could find a good life with someone like Ben Hunter.

Besides, the man was a minister, a preacher, a man of God. And she was definitely not preacher’s wife material.

As she watched Ben lift baby Tyler out of his crib and bundle him in a thick cotton blanket, she regretted that. Ben would make the right woman a fine husband. Except her. Except Sara Conroy. No, she was too cynical, too burned-out and disillusioned for someone like Ben Hunter. She wasn’t the right woman, and she had to remember that.

“I think I can remember all of this,” Ben said hours later as he tucked the baby in, hopefully for a few hours of sleep at least. “Sterilize the bottles every night, mix the formula, put it in the refrigerator, heat it till it feels warm on my skin.” He shook an empty bottle toward his wrist to demonstrate. “Feed him every three or four hours, regardless of what time it is, until he gets on a schedule. Change diapers as needed—what?”

Sara couldn’t help the laughter bubbling over in her throat. But she couldn’t possibly tell Ben that he looked so incredibly adorable, standing there in his flannel shirt and old jeans with a burp cloth slung over his shoulder and his dark curls all mushed up against his forehead, while one of the three cats he owned meowed at his feet. “It’s nothing,” she said. “You just look so helpless.”

“I am not helpless,” Ben retorted in mock defiance. “Well, not as long as you’re here, at least.”

She took another sip of her coffee, ignoring the little tremors of delight his innocent statement brought to her stomach. “Oh, I think you’ll be just fine. From all the phone calls you’ve received, I’d say you’ve got more than enough help.”

“You’re right there. My congregation has really surprised me with all their support. I was afraid some of them would frown on this—a single man taking in an infant. I’m pleasantly surprised, and very grateful.”

“Maybe you don’t give yourself enough credit,” she said as he refilled her coffee. “Of course, I’ve heard a lot about Reverend Olsen—hard shoes to fill.”

“He was the best. I still visit him in the nursing home and sometimes I bring him here, just to spend an afternoon with me. He is the wisest man I know and I respect his suggestions, even if I don’t always follow them.”

“I see,” she said, smiling back at him. “You want to do things your way.”

“Sometimes, but I find that I mostly have to do things His way.” He pointed heavenward.

“An awesome task,” Sara retorted, meaning it. She had long ago stopped trying to figure out God’s plan for her life. Now she was taking things one day at a time.

“Do you plan to come to church, hear one of my sermons?”

The question, so direct, so sincere, threw her. “I … I probably will.” Lowering her head, she added, “I haven’t been very regular in my faith lately. In fact, I think I kind of gave up on it.”

“Losing a loved one can do that to you,” Ben said, his head down, his whole stance seeming to go weary.

His tone was so quiet, so introspective, that Sara wondered if he’d suffered such a loss himself. Not wanting to pry, she stayed silent, helping him put away the many supplies required to feed and care for a baby. “I’m better now. I was bitter for a while—about my mother’s illness, about life in general. And I hope coming here will help me to…to find some sense of peace.”

He turned to her then, his gentle smile reminding her that although this man was different, a man of strong faith no doubt, maybe he was still just as vulnerable to pain and frustration as the rest of humankind.

Leaning close, he said, “I hope you find your peace here, Sara. This is certainly a good place to start.”

Is that why he’d come here? she wondered. Before she could ask him to tell her, he lifted off the counter and turned away. “Let’s sit down and catch our breaths.”

Then he dropped the diaper and grabbed his own coffee cup, motioning for Sara to follow him into the tiny sitting room of the cottage he called home. The room, like many of the rooms she’d noticed in the charming, old house, was in a state of repair.

“Sorry about the boards and nails,” he told her as he offered her the comfortable old leather armchair near the fireplace. “I fully intend to finish that wall of bookcases, and all the other work around here—someday. But I’m not the handyman type. I’ll have to get Warren Sinclair to repair my repairs, I’m afraid.”

The small kitten that had been meowing at Ben’s feet, aptly named Rat because he was a deep gray and tended to skitter like a mouse, hurriedly followed them into the room, then jumped up on her lap the minute she sat down.

Sara nodded as she glanced around the cozy room. Books everywhere—that didn’t surprise her—and a few unpacked boxes coupled with very few personal touches. In spite of the volumes of philosophy and poetry and religious tomes, in spite of the clutter and typical male chaos, it looked as if Ben was just a visitor here—not really settled in yet. Maybe that was why he was afraid of taking on little Tyler. He wasn’t ready for any permanent commitments, either.

Since she knew that feeling, she shrugged. “I like it. It has potential.”

“Somewhere underneath all the old paint and leaking roof, and all my many messes, yes, there is a lot of potential for this to once again become a showcase.”

Sara thought the current occupant had a lot of potential, too, but she didn’t voice that opinion. “I’d better get out to the lake,” she said instead. “It’s getting late and we both have an early day tomorrow.”

Ben held up a hand in protest. “I could warm up some of that stew Emma sent over. Or we could just go for the oatmeal cookies.”

“Reverend, are you stalling the inevitable?”

Ben lowered his head. “Yeah, I admit it. I’m terrified about being alone with that baby. What if I don’t know how to handle his cries?”

“Your cats seem to be thriving—even if they are fur balls instead of humans. You must know something about nurturing babies.”

He grinned, then rolled his eyes. “Emma thinks I’m the humane society. But taking care of little Rat and his fuzzy companions is a tad different from providing for a baby.”

“Just hold him,” she said on a soft voice, her eyes meeting his in the muted lamplight. “That’s what most babies want and need the most.”

“Most humans,” he echoed, his voice warm and soothing, his eyes big and blue and vastly deep.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Because the conversation had taken an intimate twist, and because for some strange reason she herself felt an overwhelming need to be held, Sara placed the still-whining Rat on the braided rug at her feet and got up to leave. “You can call me, day or night.”

“Even at 3:00 a.m.?”

Imagining his sleep-filled voice at three o’clock in the morning didn’t help the erratic charges of awareness coursing through her body. “Anytime,” she managed to say. Why did his eyes have to look so very blue?

“I’ll hold you to that,” he told her as he escorted her to the front door. “Drive carefully.”

“I will. It’s only a few miles.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.” She hurried out to her car, not daring to take a breath until she was sure he couldn’t see her. What on earth had come over her, anyway? Her first day in a new town, her first day on the job, and the first eligible man to walk through the door already had her nerves in a shamble and her heart doing strange pitter-pattering things that it shouldn’t be doing at all.

It’s just the stress, she decided. She’d been through so much—first Steven’s decision to transfer to Atlanta—with or without her, then her mother’s inevitable death, then the hospital telling her she might want to consider an extended leave of absence because she was exhausted and not too swift on her feet. It had all been just too much for one person.

Maggie’s call had come at exactly the right time, but now Sara had to wonder if she’d made the right decision, coming here. She only wanted to concentrate on the children in her care, enjoy the less stressful, much slower way of life here, go home each night to her quiet cottage, and stare out at the endless blue waters of Baylor Lake.

That’s all she needed right now—time to decide where she wanted to go in her life, time to heal from the grief of watching her mother deteriorate right before her eyes, time to accept that Steven wasn’t coming back for her and that she wouldn’t get that family she’d always dreamed about.

If she let herself get involved with the town preacher, she wouldn’t know any peace, none at all. But she could be a friend to Ben Hunter, and she could help him with little Tyler. That at least would ease some of her loneliness.

And his, too, maybe.

Ben’s kindness, his gentle sense of nobility, had touched on all her keyed-up, long-denied emotions. That was why she felt this way—all shook up and disoriented. Throw in an adorable, abandoned baby, and well, any woman would start getting strange yearnings for home and hearth, strange maternal longings that would probably never be fulfilled. Any woman would feel completely and utterly lonely, sitting in her car in the cold.

“I’ll be all right,” she told herself as she drove toward the charming cottage she’d rented at Baylor Lake. “I’ll be all right. I came here to find some time, to heal, to rethink my life. Not to get attached to a poetic preacher and a sweet lost little baby.”

But somehow she knew in her heart that she had already formed a close bond with those two, a bond that would be hard to forget, even given time and circumstance.




Chapter Three


In a blur of baby, blankets and bags, Ben Hunter stepped inside the outer reception room to his church office, thankful that the cold morning air didn’t have a hint of snow. That would come soon enough in November. And he couldn’t imagine having to dress a wiggling, tiny baby in a snowsuit. It had taken him twenty extra minutes just to get Tyler in the fleece button-up outfit Betty had thoughtfully supplied.

“Oh, there you are.”

Emma Fulton got up to come around her desk, her blue eyes flashing brightly as she cooed right toward Tyler. “Let me see that precious child, Reverend Ben.”

Ben didn’t hesitate to turn the baby over to Emma. The woman had five grandchildren, so she knew what to do with a baby.

“He had a good night,” Ben said, letting out a breath as he dropped all the paraphernalia he’d brought along onto a nearby chair. “He was up around four, but other than that, we did okay.”

“Of course you did,” Emma said, still cooing and talking baby talk. “Even if the good reverend does look a little tired.” Pointing her silvery bun toward the small kitchen just off her office, she said, “There’s pumpkin bread.”

“Bless you,” Ben replied, heading straight to the coffeepot. “Somehow I didn’t manage to get breakfast.” With a grin he called over his shoulder, “But Tyler sure had his. That little fellow can go through a bottle.”

“He’s a growing boy,” Emma replied as she danced a jig with the baby. “Oh, my, look at that. He’s laughing. He likes his aunt Emma.”

“Well, go ahead,” Ben teased as he came back into the room with a chunk of the golden-brown bread, “tell him you were Strawberry Festival Queen in…what year was that, Emma?”

“Never you mind what year, kid. Just remember who you’re dealing with here.” Her smile belied her defensive tone.

“I always remember who’s the boss around here,” Ben admonished. Then when he heard someone clearing his throat in his office, he turned to Emma. “Visitor?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She whirled with the baby in her arms. “Finish your breakfast first. It’s Mr. Erickson.”

Ben immediately put down his coffee and the last of his bread. “Maybe he’s heard something from Jason.”

“Don’t know,” Emma whispered, her expression turning sad. “Want me to take Tyler to the nursery for you?”

“Would you mind?” Ben gathered the baby’s things for her. “Tell Sara I’ll be over in a little while to check on him and give her a report about his first night with me.”

“I certainly will do that,” Emma said, getting her smile back in a quick breath, her eyes perfectly centered on the baby.

Ben knew that look. Emma would try to match him up with Sara. Somehow, the thought of that didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should—considering Emma had tried to match him up with every single woman in Fairweather, usually with disastrous results. With Sara Conroy, he couldn’t foresee any disaster, other than the one in which he might lose his heart. And he wasn’t willing to risk that just yet.

As he entered the quiet confines of his office, however, another type of disaster entered his mind. Richard Erickson stood looking out over the prayer garden, his hands tucked in the pockets of his dark tailored wool suit pants, his graying hair trimmed into a rigid style, just the way he ran the local bank and most of this town.

Ben dreaded another confrontation with the man, but his heart had to go out to Mr. Erickson. His only son, sixteen-year-old Jason, had run away from home several months ago.

“Hello, Mr. Erickson,” Ben said, extending his hand as the older man pivoted to stare at him with a look of condemnation mixed with a condescending air.

The handshake was quick and unmeaningful, but Richard Erickson was too polite and straitlaced to behave without the impeccable manners that befit a descendant of the founding family of the town. Ben gave him credit for that much, at least.

“Reverend.”

“What can I do for you this morning? Any word from Jason, sir?”

At the mention of his youngest child’s name, Richard Erickson’s whole demeanor changed. After having three daughters, his son, Jason, had been his pride and joy, and ultimately, the child of which he made the most demands and held the highest expectations.

His expression became etched with regret and pride. “No. I was hoping you might have heard something. He did call you before.”

“You know I would call you immediately if Jason tried to contact me,” Ben told him. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard anything since the last call back in September.”

“Are you sure you’d tell me if you did?”

Ben could see the hostility in the man’s brown eyes. It still galled him that this man who contributed so much financially to the church, could not contribute anything emotionally to Ben or his ministry, or to his son Jason, for that matter. Yet Ben didn’t have the heart to tell Richard Erickson that part of the reason his son was missing today was because of Mr. Erickson’s cold, distant relationship with the boy.

Jason had confided in Ben, and he wouldn’t break that confidence. Early on, right after Jason had left, Ben had tried to sit down with Richard and Mary Erickson and explain what Ben had told him. He’d gotten to know the boy pretty well, after serving as coach for the church basketball team.

But the Ericksons would not listen to Ben’s concerns. They had told him in no uncertain terms that they blamed him for interfering in their relationship with their son, that Ben’s influence had put newfangled notions in the boy’s head and caused him to rebel.

Now, however, Ben was their only source of comfort, since Jason had contacted him on two different occasions after running away earlier in the year. For that reason, and for Jason’s sake, Ben swallowed his own resentment and tried to counsel the couple—when they would let him.

Sensing that Richard needed to talk, Ben gestured to a floral armchair. “Please, sit down.”

“I don’t have much time,” Richard said, but he did sit on the very edge of the chair, his back straight, his expression grim. “I just wanted to tell you—if you hear from my son again, you have to let me know. My wife is beside herself—what with the holidays coming up and everything. And all our efforts to track him down have only brought us disappointment.”

“I understand, sir,” Ben said, his hands folded over his heavily marked desk pad calendar. “I will do whatever I can to convince Jason to come home. I hope you realize that.”

“I realize,” Richard Erickson said as he rose to leave, “that my son is deeply troubled and that I hold you partially responsible for whatever brought him to this extreme.” He held up a hand then. “But I do appreciate your efforts on Jason’s behalf, and in light of this new situation, I just wanted to remind you where your priorities should be.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” Ben said, getting up to follow Erickson out of the office. “What are you trying to tell me, Mr. Erickson?”

Richard Erickson stopped at the door, then turned to face Ben, the look in his eyes devoid of any compassion or understanding. “Taking in a stray baby, an orphan? Come on, Reverend, we both know that you have no business trying to take care of an infant. You should be concentrating on taking care of your congregation. I still get complaints about you, you know. And this latest development hasn’t helped matters, not one bit.”

Shocked and angry beyond words, Ben gripped the edge of Emma’s desk in order to regain his composure. “You don’t need to worry about Tyler, Mr. Erickson. I know what I’m doing and I don’t intend to let taking care of this baby interfere with my work here. Rest assured, I know what my responsibilities are.”

“Do you?” Erickson pointed a finger in the air. “If you had concentrated on preaching instead of sports, my son might be here today. But you had to form that basketball team, just to glorify yourself. You had to prove that you were the best in college, so you got these local boys all worked up about basketball and winning. Jason didn’t have any complaints in life until you came along. Then all he could think about was practice. He was neglecting his studies, getting behind in school. He changed right before our eyes. And now you’re planning on raising a baby?”

Ben couldn’t believe the things coming out of Richard Erickson’s mouth. The man had a skewered idea of what had brought his son to such desperate measures.

Hoping to set him straight, Ben said, “Jason had problems long before I came into the picture, sir. If you’d only listen—”

“I’m done listening to you, Reverend. And I have a good mind to call the authorities and tell them what I know about you. You are not fit to raise that baby, and by trying to prove yourself once again, you will fail. And this church will suffer even more for it. Maybe you should have thought about that, before you took on this new challenge.”

Ben looked up to see Sara Conroy standing in the hallway that led to the small narthex of the church. She must have come in from the other side, and from the frozen expression on her face, she’d obviously heard most of their conversation.

Feeling defeated, but refusing to give in to Richard Erickson’s rigid attitude, Ben sighed, then asked God for guidance. The very thought of this man trying to have Tyler taken from him only reinforced Ben’s close bond with the baby. “I can take care of that baby. I have plenty of people more than willing to help me through this.”

“I can change all of that easily enough,” Erickson stated, the threatening tone in his words leaving no doubt that he would do just that.

“But you won’t,” Ben said, his own stance just as rigid. “You wouldn’t do that to an innocent child, would you?” When the man didn’t answer, he added, “Sir, you can do what you want to me, you can blame me for Jason’s problems, too, if that makes you feel better. But don’t do anything to jeopardize Tyler. He’s very young and very alone right now, and if you interfere, he’ll just be snatched away again. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

His words seemed to calm the older man. Richard Erickson looked up then and realized they weren’t alone anymore. The manners set in immediately. As he lifted a hand to Sara in greeting, his whole expression softened.

“I’ve got too much to deal with as it is,” he said at last, his voice low now. “But I’m warning you, you’d better watch your step. And you’d better hope I find my son soon.”

“I’ll pray for that day and night, just as I’ve been doing,” Ben told him, meaning it. “If you need anything—”

“I don’t.” With that, Erickson nodded to Sara, then turned and headed out the door to his luxury sedan.

Sara took one look at Ben and headed straight to him. “You should sit down.”

He didn’t argue with her. Instead, he fell down into Emma’s softly padded desk chair, sighed long and hard, then ran a hand through his hair with a groan of frustration. “Sorry you had to witness that.”

Hoping to lighten the somber mood, Sara said, “Do you always win over your members in such a sure way?”

“Every last one of them,” he told her, some of the tension leaving his face. Then he looked up at her. “Mr. Erickson doesn’t like me very much right now. His youngest child, and only son, Jason, ran away from home earlier this year, and he blames me for it.”

“You?” Shocked, Sara leaned against the corner of the desk, near him, her long khaki skirt rustling as she crossed her legs. “I thought your job was to save souls, not alienate them.”

“Yeah, me, too, but it doesn’t always go that way.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He looked up at her again, taking in those glorious red curls and her mysterious green eyes. She had a few freckles scattered across her pert nose, but the rest of her skin was porcelain white and looked creamy soft. She wore a short, green-and-brown striped heavy cotton sweater that only brought out the red of her hair and the green of her eyes. And brought out the warmth in his heart.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” he told her by way of an answer.

“Which means you probably don’t ever have a chance to vent your own frustrations, right?”

“I have plenty of chances,” he replied, his hands resting on the arms of the chair as he leaned back to admire her. “I can talk to God anytime.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Did you just snort? Are you scoffing at me?”

“I’m not snorting or scoffing at all,” she said, then smiled. “Okay, maybe I’m a little cynical right now. I know, I know—God is always there. But you look like you could use a real friend right now, a human friend.”

“And you’re offering to be that friend?”

“Yes, I guess I am.” She pushed away from the desk, leaving a trail of flower-and-spice perfume in her wake. “You know, Emma told me that you wanted me to join you for a slice of her famous pumpkin bread—insisted I come right on over here.” She headed into the kitchenette. “But I can’t leave the babies with an aide for long. Now, do you want to talk to me about this or not. Time is precious.”

Ben shook his head, laughing as he managed to finally get up out of the chair. “It will take a long time to explain what you just heard and saw.”

“Well, sorry. Gotta go.” She had her slice of bread and was already headed out the side door. “I guess you’ll just have to bring Tyler out to the lake, for dinner at my place tonight. Say around six-thirty?”

Ben almost fell back into the chair again. This woman was different, that was for sure. And full of intriguing surprises. “Miss Conroy, are you asking me for a date?”

“No, Reverend Hunter, I’m just telling you I’ll fix you dinner.”

He tipped his head to one side, his smile changing into a grin. “That Emma—look what she’s done now.”

“Oh, you didn’t really invite me for breakfast?”

“No, but I’m glad you came by.”

“So, does that mean you’ll come for dinner?”

“I didn’t know nurses could cook.”

“We’re pretty handy with a microwave and a few written instructions,” she said, giving him an impish smile.

“I’ll be there,” he told her as he walked her down the short hallway.

“With Tyler?”

“With Tyler,” he said, then added, “if Richard Erickson doesn’t have him taken away before sundown.”

She heard the humor in his voice, but saw the concern in his eyes, too. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“He would and he could. The man is very bitter right now and he’d do just about anything to have me removed from this church.”

“We’ll just have to say a prayer that he doesn’t follow through on his threats, right?”

Ben grabbed at his chest, an expression of mock surprise on his face. “You—you’re going to pray for me?”

“Hey, I still talk to God on occasion, even if I don’t think He’s really listening.”

Ben touched her arm then. “He always listens, Sara. You have to know that. After all, He sent you to rescue me this morning, didn’t He?”

“That was Emma’s doing,” she said, acutely aware of the clean, fresh smell of baby lotion mixed with aftershave that lifted out around him. “And remind me to thank her later.”

“Are you sure it was all Emma’s doing?” he countered, holding the door for her, but not letting her pass just yet.

“No, I’m not sure of anything right now, except that I need to get back to work. I’ll see you tonight, Rev.”

Ben watched her walk across the yard toward the day-care center, her straight skirt swishing, her long booted legs carrying her on her merry way. He didn’t know if God had sent Sara to him, but she had come just in time, he decided.

Because she was right. He could use a friend. He was blessed with several well-meaning friends here in the church and he appreciated how Emma and Betty stood by him and fought for him, but he needed someone to share quiet moments with, someone he could really open up to and talk with. And Sara Conroy fit the bill—almost too perfectly.

Yet, she’d set the ground rules, and as long as they stuck by them, they’d both be okay. She was willing to be his friend, and she was willing to help with Tyler. Surely there could be no harm in that.

Ben decided he did need her help—he needed Sara to show him how to be a good surrogate dad to Tyler. And he wouldn’t lose Tyler. Richard Erickson’s threats had made Ben even more determined to keep the baby safe and near. Somehow he had to show Jason’s bitter father that he was fit to take care of the little baby, and fit to take care of this congregation, too.

And somehow he hoped God would hear all of their prayers and show Jason Erickson the way back home again.




Chapter Four


“So, because you stepped in and tried to counsel this boy, his father now blames you for his running away?”

Sara held her fork on her plate, her gaze falling across Ben’s troubled face. He’d just told her, between bites of salad and spaghetti, about Jason Erickson and his prominent, immensely wealthy family.

“That about sums things up,” Ben replied as he snagged another crusty piece of French bread then dipped it into the sauce on his plate. “And maybe Mr. Erickson is right.”

“I see,” Sara replied, laying her fork down to stare over at him. “So now you’re beginning to blame yourself, too? Ben, from everything you just told me, it sounds as if you did all you could to help this boy. It’s not your fault he felt forced to run away from home.”

Ben dropped his bread on his plate, then sat back in his chair with a long sigh. “But did I cause this? I’ve asked myself that same question over and over in the last few months. I encouraged the boy to come out of his self-protective shell, to open up to me, and I also encouraged him to get involved with the church basketball team—something his father apparently didn’t approve of at all.”

“But you have to remember that by doing those things you opened up a whole new world to Jason. It sounds as if he needed an outlet—precisely to keep him out of trouble and give him some confidence, and you gave him that outlet.”

Ben gave a little nod of agreement and straightened up in his chair. “He loved the game and he had a natural talent for it. But he’d been struggling in school and I’m afraid all the practices and the heavy schedule did make matters worse. I tutored him, but—”

“But—nothing,” Sara said, getting up to refill their water glasses. As she walked by the coffeepot, she flipped the On button and started a fresh brew for later. “Something else must have triggered his leaving. I can’t believe a few bad grades would make him do something so desperate.”

Ben leaned back in his chair again, and Sara watched as he surveyed the quaint little kitchen decorated with various antique cooking utensils and dozens of potted plants which she hoped she could keep alive through the winter.

“His grades had actually improved a little. And he was trying so hard to please his father and still maintain his own identity. I just wish I knew what really happened.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“In April of this year. He came by the office to do some homework, but his mind wasn’t on it. He seemed distracted, worried. I tried to find out what was wrong, but he wouldn’t talk and I just thought he was nervous about the history test he had the next day.” Rubbing a hand across his chin, he added, “But I’ve talked to him on the phone a couple of times since then. He won’t contact his parents, so I’ve tried to encourage him to let me help him, but he refuses to tell me what’s going on. I should have tried to help him, make him tell me what was wrong, way back when I had the chance.”

“You had no way of knowing,” Sara said as she set a plate of cookies on the table, then indicated to Ben to take one. “Emma sends her love along with her special tea cakes.”

That perked Ben up. “I’ve had her tea cakes,” he said as he snared one and bit into it. “Mmm, good.”

“Let’s take these delicious cookies and our coffee into the den,” Sara told him, hoping to take his mind off Jason. “That way we can check on little Tyler, too.”

Ben followed her, carrying the plate of cookies. “He’s sleeping away. I think he likes the fire.”

Sara smiled down at the baby. They’d fixed him up a blanketed bed on a deep arm chair near the fire, safe with pillows all around. “He does look content. You apparently did a good job on your first day as his guardian.”

“I was a nervous wreck,” Ben admitted as he settled down on the matching floral couch, then glanced over at the sleeping baby.

As she sat down in another armchair, Sara had to admit it felt good, having them both here in her new home. It didn’t seem nearly as lonely tonight.

The room was long and narrow, with a dozen or so paned windows that allowed a sweeping view of the lake down below the tree-shaded hills. In the summer, the windows could be thrown open to the fresh country air, but tonight Sara had them shut tight against the approaching chill of winter.

Ben looked at Tyler, his expression thoughtful and hopeful. “I think that’s why I’m determined to help this child—after all of this with Jason, I mean. I let Jason slip away, but maybe this…maybe this is another chance for me, having Tyler to look after.”

Sara’s heart went into another telltale spin. Oh, she didn’t want to feel these things she was beginning to feel. But Ben Hunter looked so sweet, so scared, so lost, sitting there with the firelight reflecting in his blue eyes. Funny, how she’d always assumed ministers just had pat answers for every situation, that they coped above and beyond anything ordinary humans had to endure. But being around Ben Hunter had taught her that even a man of God was still a human being, with feelings and emotions just like anyone else.

Yet, this particular minister did his very best to shield the rest of the world from his own innermost thoughts and torments. Which was why she was worried about him now.

She could tell by the way he talked about the baby, that he was already forming a strong bond with little Tyler. What would happen when the authorities made a decision regarding the baby? What if Ben became too attached to the little boy?

“Ben, you realize you might not have Tyler for very long, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” he said, but it sounded hollow in the silent room. “Don’t give me that doubtful look. I know I won’t be able to keep him. But at least while he’s here, I can give him all the love and nurturing that I’ve got.”

“And you’ve sure got a lot, from what I can tell.”

He looked up at her then, his cookie in midair, his expression warm, his eyes questioning. “How do you know that? We’ve only known each other a couple of days now.”

Sara shifted in her chair, wishing she’d learn not to blurt out whatever popped into her head. “Well, you seem to have a good rapport with your congregation, Mr. Erickson aside. And I feel as if I knew you already, before I even met you, thanks to Maggie’s accurate description.”

Yes, Maggie had told her Ben was handsome and sensitive, a good minister. Maybe that was why Sara seemed so attracted to him—she’d come into this with already-high expectations. She shrugged, uncomfortable with the whole conversation. “Emma thinks you hung the moon, and Betty is always singing your praises.”

There. That explained it. Everyone thought Ben was perfect, so naturally, Sara would just assume that he was. She’d been brainwashed, obviously. Surely there was a flaw hiding behind that captivating grin and those incredible blue eyes.

His gaze didn’t waver. “They have both been a tremendous help to me, that’s for sure.”

Because he was staring at her with that bemused, confused expression plastered across his face, because the room was growing exceptionally warm, Sara hopped up. “Want some more coffee or more cookies?”

“No, I want to know why you think I’m such a lovable guy?”

Flustered, she sank back down on the overstuffed chair. “Well, because…you’re a preacher. Isn’t lovable a prerequisite?”

“I suppose, but I’ve known some cold, unlovable ministers in my time.”

Seizing on that, she threw out a hand. “There, you see! You obviously aren’t one of those. You know how to connect with people, draw people out. I’m surprised you’re still single.”

Her soft, mortified moan only made Ben laugh. “You like me, don’t you?”

Sara hung her head, hoping her mop of curls would hide the red in her face. “Of course, I like you. You’ve been a good friend, and you’ve made me feel very welcome here. And since we’ve agreed to share the responsibility of taking care of Tyler—”

“That would naturally make us have to stay in close contact, right?”

“Right—so that’s why I’m just…glad that you’re—”

“Such a lovable guy?”

“Yes, exactly.” She slapped her palm on her lap, her gaze centered on the fire. “It would be hard to maintain a relationship—I mean, a friendship—with someone who was distant and uncaring.”

The bemused expression shifted into something more confident and self-assured. “So, we’ve agreed that we’ll share in Tyler’s well-being, and we’ve agreed that we have some sort of relationship—I mean, friendship—developing here.”

She squirmed, straightened a stack of magazines on the table, then crossed one booted leg over the other one. “Yes, I think we can safely agree on those two things.”

Ben took a bite of his cookie. “Well, I’m glad we got that settled.”

Sara looked up at him at last, and seeing the amusement in his eyes, ventured a nervous smile herself. “I feel like a complete idiot.”

“Why? Because you had to admit you like me? I’m flattered, of course, but I promise I won’t fall at your feet with undying gratitude and embarrass you any further.”

“Thanks for that, at least.” She got up to stir the fire, which was blazing right along with no intent of going out—just like the one burning in her belly. “Ben, I was engaged—”

He sat up, another cookie uneaten in his hand. “Are you about to tell me you’re not ready for anything long-term and heavy?” In spite of the lighthearted nature of his words, Sara sensed the seriousness in his eyes.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m about to tell you. Steven and I were a couple for years, but…for some reason, we never did really make a strong commitment to each other. We tried, but there was my work, and his work, and then when my mother got ill—”

“He didn’t know how to handle it?”

When his tone became just as serious as his gaze, she turned to face him. “No, he didn’t appreciate my long hours at the hospital, and my refusal to put my mother in a home.”

“What happened?”

“He took a job in Atlanta, Georgia, and he gave me an ultimatum. Either come with him, or the wedding was off.”

“So I guess I know the answer.”

“Yep. Same old story, different chapter.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“That’s a rather tired cliché, don’t you think?”

“But an accurate one.”

“I couldn’t leave my mother.”

At the anguish in her voice, Ben dropped the forgotten cookie back on the plate and came to stand by her in front of the fire. “No, you couldn’t do that, and you don’t have to explain that to anybody.”

He wasn’t exactly sure when his hand had moved up to her shoulder, but suddenly he was holding her, hugging her the way he’d hugged hundreds of suffering church members in a time of crisis. “I’m sorry, about your engagement, about your mother. But I’m not sorry you got rid of ol’ Steven.”

“Oh, really?” Because he held her face crushed against his sweatshirt, it came out muffled.

“Really. Because now you have a chance to get to know a lovable, nurturing preacher who needs a lot of help with a little baby boy.”

“And his ego, too, apparently,” she said as she raised her head, her expression dubious.

Ben looked down at her and felt his heart swelling with a certain need, a need that he hadn’t felt or wanted to feel for a very long time. When had this solicitous hug turned into something more intimate, something more…rewarding?

“My ego is fragile,” he said as his gaze touched on her shining, clouded eyes. Too fragile to tell her his own dark fears and secret regrets.

“Then you know none of this can last, right?”

“You mean, Tyler’s being here, you and I being here, together like this?”

“Yes.”

The one word held all the defeat he felt in his soul. Yes, he knew this couldn’t last, and he didn’t really want it to last, did he? This was too close to being perfect; too close to being exactly as he’d envisioned his life so long ago. But he’d envisioned this dream with another woman, and she was gone now. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sara about Nancy just yet. Because he wasn’t accustomed to baring his soul to anyone other than God, the pain of losing his own fiancée three years ago was his to bear alone.

“Yes,” he echoed, his gaze searching her face, “I know this is all very temporary. I’m not holding my breath, waiting for any sort of commitments, just dealing with what the good Lord has thrown my way.”

“You sound so resigned.”

He backed away then, sweeping a hand through his hair. “Yes, I guess I am resigned. I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes the very things you think you want and need, the things you think you can’t live without…well, sometimes those very things can be taken from you in a heartbeat.”

He glanced over at Sara. The expectant look on her face scared him, forcing him to put a different spin on his own self-pity. “I’ve seen it so many times—losing someone you love is never easy and there are no easy answers. We tend to lash out at God, because we expect Him to give us answers. But, in the end, we have to wait and pray and hope we find our own peace of mind.”

“That’s so true. It was like that when I lost my mother and Steven, too. I felt so alone.”

Relieved that she seemed satisfied with his pitiful ramblings and gentle platitudes, Ben turned back to her then, his words full of compassion and the trace of bitterness he couldn’t hide. “Maybe we should just enjoy our time together and let it go at that.”

“Maybe,” she replied, the one word full of questions.

Ben didn’t miss the disappointment in that one word. He felt that same disappointment in his heart.

But disappointment was so much easier to deal with than real pain.

Ben entered the Book-Stop, a combination bookstore and café located directly on the green in beautiful downtown Fairweather. Intent on finding a book on infant care, he smiled and waved at Frank Wren, the owner, and Maggie’s anxious husband.

“How’s Maggie?” Ben asked as he made his way to the long wooden counter where Frank was taking inventory of some paperbacks.

“Any day now, Reverend,” Frank said in his fast-clipped Minnesota accent. “My wife is ready to have this baby.”

“We’re all praying for you,” Ben told the nervous father-to-be.

But who could blame Frank for being nervous? After trying for five years to have a child, Maggie and Frank had just about given up, and then there had been complications throughout the pregnancy. This child was truly a blessing.

Frank nodded, then replied, “And I’ll do the same for you. How’s your little one?”

Touched that Frank had referred to Tyler as his own, Ben grinned. “He’s amazing. I’ve only had him a week, but I think he’s grown a few inches already. And that’s why I’m here, Frank. I need a book on babies.”

Frank chuckled, then pointed to a row toward the back of the store. “Got lots of those, but, Rev, they don’t make an accurate instruction manual for children. That’s what Maggie is always telling me, anyway.”

“She would know,” Ben said, shaking his head. “She’s certainly helped take care of most of the children in Fairweather. And now, her own. She’ll be a good mother.”

“That I know.” Frank pointed back to the shelf. “C’mon, let’s see what we can find.”

Ben followed Frank’s stocky, fast-walking figure to the back of the store. It was late afternoon and he had to get back in time to pick up Tyler from the church nursery. And see Sara, of course.

Like it or not, he was growing closer to Sara Conroy each and every day. Maybe because she was helping him take care of Tyler, and because they worked in the same building, they just naturally ran into each other. Maybe because he liked her, a lot. Maybe because she was pretty and charming and a straight-talker with no secrets to guard.

Well, maybe a few.

Sara was a complete mystery, a mystery that Ben found himself wanting to explore more and more. So he also found himself coming up with little excuses to visit the nursery.

Well, he had to check on Tyler, didn’t he? The little baby had become a big part of his life. And he looked forward to taking Tyler home each night, to cuddling with him in the big leather chair by the fire, to telling him stories of the Bible and God’s amazing work. A baby, Ben had found out, was easy to talk to, to share secrets with, to open up your heart to. And so was Sara Conroy.

What would he do when they were both gone from his life?

“How ’bout this one?”

Ben looked up to find Frank staring at him, a fat book in his hand.

“That one looks good,” Ben said, not even bothering to read the title. Didn’t he know Maggie was right? There were no concrete answers to raising a child.

“Of course, you have the best book of all already,” Frank told him as they headed back up to the front of the shop.

Still distracted by thoughts of Sara, Ben said, “I do?”

“You do. The Bible, Reverend. All you need to teach a child is right there.” Frank pointed to his own worn Bible, lying on a big desk behind the counter.

Ben patted his friend on the arm. “You’re right, Frank. And thanks for reminding me.”

Frank rang up Ben’s purchase. “Want a cup of coffee, some biscotti?”

“No, I have to go pick up Tyler.”

Frank grinned. “Well, tell her I said hello.”

Confused, Ben lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Sara.” Frank winked. “Tell her I said hello. Maggie’s wanting to have the two of you over to dinner, but Doc Talbot told her to stay off her feet.”

Groaning silently, Ben could only smile. “That’s nice of Maggie, but Sara and I…we aren’t—”

“A couple?” Frank looked downright disappointed. “That’s not what I’ve been hearing.”

“Emma?”

Frank didn’t have to acknowledge his sources. Ben knew how much his well-meaning secretary had riding on this match. And it didn’t help that Betty Anderson backed her up all the way, and that they both watched a tad too intensely every time Sara and Ben were in a room together.

Not to mention Rachel and Morgan, Julianne and Luke, Warren Sinclair and lately, even Reverend Olsen—the whole town was way too involved in Ben’s social life.

Thank goodness the annual Fairweather Harvest Celebration was coming up in a few weeks—planning for that should keep them occupied. They all needed a distraction, to take the heat off his back.

Just as Ben started to leave, the phone rang, giving him that much-needed distraction so he wouldn’t have to answer any more of Frank’s pointed questions. While Frank spoke into the receiver, Ben glanced through the book he’d just purchased, then waved goodbye.

“Rev?” Frank dropped the receiver to come spinning around the counter on one foot. “It’s Maggie. It’s…the baby.” His eyes widened, his next words coming out in a breathless amazement. “The baby is coming.”

Ben went into action, since Frank looked helpless. “Come on. I’ll drive you. Where to? Is she at the hospital?”

“No, she’s at home. We’d better hurry.”

“Okay. I’ll call Sara from the car and tell her to meet me at the hospital with Tyler. We’ll get Maggie to the hospital.”




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