“It’s not a dog, Daddy,” Claire replied, peeking over the sheriff’s arm, trying to pull the covers back while Billy hung behind them, holding Ellie and the other children back. “It’s a baby.”
Merrilee glanced up at John, hoping he’d read her silent plea to not discuss this in front of the children.
He must have read the message in her expression because he shooed the kids back down the hall and onto the porch, firmly shutting the door behind them.
The soft sucking noises coming from the blankets caused a sharp ache in the pit of Merrilee’s stomach. She jerked her attention back to the sheriff. “Why would anyone give up their child just because they’re not perfect?”
Mack glanced down at the blankets, his expression one of tender resignation. “Merrilee...”
Aurora’s frail arm came around her waist, offering comfort. “Sweetheart, these people are in pain. All their hopes and dreams for this baby are gone because society won’t accept a deviation as anything other than something wicked, something best disposed of.”
Tears crowded Merrilee’s throat. How could anyone believe that the life God had given this child, even with its imperfections, was anything less than a blessing?
“This baby will be loved, just like every other child brought into my home,” Aurora continued, her free hand settling over the blankets. “Because he or she has a purpose in this life. God says so in His Word.”
Merrilee nodded. Yes, each child had a purpose, like Ellie and her way of seeing joy in everything. Or Billy and his gentle concern for Aurora. The twins with their uncompromising love and Gail with her graceful acceptance. Yes, even Claire in her determination to find her father. They’d all taught her so much about herself, about the person she wanted to be.
What would this baby teach her?
Merrilee cleared the knot from her throat and held her arms out. “So what do we have? A boy or a girl?”
“Girl.” Mack shifted the baby in his arms, cradling her head in one strong palm before settling the child into Merrilee’s waiting arms. Even with the blankets, the infant weighed less than a sack of sugar. “Born about a month early. Mama’s just a kid herself.”
“And the father?”
“Army guy. Killed just before Christmas,” Mack answered solemnly.
“Poor thing.” Aurora started unraveling the covers.
“The girl was aiming on raising it, but...” Mack hesitated. “It’s better this way.”
How is it better, Lord? Merrilee’s heart shouted. How would being thrown away by your family ever be the best for the child? The front door clicked open and John ducked inside, the sounds of the children playing in the distance a welcome relief from the agonizing direction of her thoughts.
She watched John walk down the hallway, his steps confident, his expression alight with acceptance. Aurora had taught him that, by loving him when the person who should have cared for him and Mattie—their father—had dumped them on a street corner to fend for themselves. But unlike this baby, John had been old enough to understand, to feel the pain of his father’s rejection. No wonder he kept things close to the chest. But how could she get him to understand nothing he could say or do would change the love she had for him?
“So what have we got here?” John asked, pulling up alongside her.
“A little girl,” Aurora answered, still peeling back the blankets. “Are you sure she’s in here, Mack?”
Color infused the sheriff’s face. “I wasn’t sure what to do so I wrapped her in all the blankets I had. Didn’t want such a little thing to catch something.”
“You did fine, Mack.” John patted the sheriff on the back. “Premature babies tend to lose their body heat quickly. A few extra blankets probably kept her toasty warm.”
Merrilee glanced over at John. How could he know that? Was Aurora in the habit of receiving preterm babies when John lived here?
The older woman finally turned back the last fold. Two perfectly formed legs jutted out of the bindings, ten dainty little toes curled against tiny flawless feet. Pink dimpled thighs, ten delicate fingers on hands already grasping. Merrilee lifted her gaze to the baby’s face and froze. Where she’d expected a tiny bow of the mouth, the baby girl’s top lip was drawn back, leaving a gaping hole that extended up under her nose.
“Cleft palate,” Aurora diagnosed.
“What’s that?” Merrilee asked, tightening her hold on the baby.
“It’s when the space between the roof of the mouth and the nose doesn’t close up properly before the baby’s born,” John answered, his eyes focused on the child’s face. He glanced up at Aurora. “You think Dr. Tripp might be able to fix her up?”
“I don’t know, but it’s never stopped me from asking.”
“Who’s Dr. Tripp?” Merrilee asked.
John gave her a brief smile. “An old beau of Aurora’s. He’s a doctor over at Henrietta Egleston Hospital for Children. He helps Aurora with the children at times.” He glanced back at Mack. “If we can get the local doctor to sign off on the case.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Both Adams and Lovinggood were busy with an emergency last night so Mrs. Williams helped with the delivery. Says the child is as healthy as a horse except for...” He grimaced. “I didn’t tell Adams about the problem, just that the mother didn’t want her. He told me to take the baby down to Crawford Long, said they’d know where to place her.” The lawman glanced down at the baby, a tender expression on his face. “But I just couldn’t do it.”
“Now, wait a minute,” John interrupted. “We haven’t made the decision about whether we should take on another child yet, especially a newborn.”
Merrilee held the infant a bit closer, her heart catching in her chest at the very thought of sending this little girlish bundle away. John couldn’t mean to reject this child, he just couldn’t. “John Davenport, if you think that we’re going to turn this child out...”
John replied as his fingers gently slipped under her chin and lifted her face to his. “I’m out in the field all day long and Aurora is still recovering. You’re already taking care of so much with the house and the kids. I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed. Or obligated.”
Silly man. But it was sweet for him to think of her needs, very sweet. “I’ve run a boardinghouse for the past three years. This will be a piece of cake compared to that.”
“Are you sure about this? I can help you out in the evenings, but it’s still a lot of work.” Concern laced his voice, but his eye shone with hope.
Her heart did a little flip. United, John and I will stand, together. “True, but if it wasn’t hard work, it wouldn’t be worth doing, now would it?”
A spark of joy set fire to the blue in his eyes as he reached up to gently stroke the baby’s cheek, faint surprise softening his face when the infant turned her head, her misshaped lips seeking his roaming fingers. He jerked his head up and met Merrilee’s gaze. “Why did she do that?”
Maybe the man didn’t know everything about babies after all. It was going to be fun teaching him. “She may be hungry.” Merrilee tilted her head toward Aurora. “Do you have any baby bottles?”
The older woman nodded. “I crated them up along with a bassinet and some clothes after the twins outgrew them. They’re upstairs in the attic.”
“I’ll help you bring them down, Ms. Aurora,” John offered.
“No, Merrilee’s going to need help getting out all the ingredients for the baby formula. You can take care of that.” Aurora gave them a prim smile. “I’m sure the sheriff here wouldn’t mind pulling that crate down out of the attic.”
Mack laid his hat on the oak bench. “Anything to help out, Ms. Aurora.”
“Good,” the older woman answered. “Then we need to get in business before this little one is howling for a bottle and a clean diaper.” Tu
gging the tall sheriff by the arm, Aurora started for the stairwell, a little more kick in her step than in the past few weeks since she’d taken ill.
“Aurora looks more chipper than she did earlier this morning,” Merrilee commented as she tucked the ends of the coarse quilt around the infant. First moment she had free, she would hunt down the softest blanket in the house.
“It’s not just her. She taught all of her kids early on that there’s something about making a difference in another person’s life that can give you joy. Even when there’s risk involved.”
Risks? A tremor of some unknown emotion slid down Merrilee’s spine. What risks were there? She could understand that there were hardships. Feeding the number of children Aurora had over the years had to have put a strangle on her wallet. Maybe Aurora worried about the state intervening more than she’d let on. Was that the risk she faced?
A tiny whimper came from the blankets, letting Merrilee know that their reprieve was over. “She’s going to start wailing if we don’t feed her soon.”
“We’ll handle this,” John answered, his hand firm against Merrilee’s back as he steered them down the hall toward the kitchen. “Remember, two are better than one.”
A small bubble of happiness burst inside her chest at his mention of the Bible verse. No, she wasn’t alone anymore. She had John.
* * *
“Here, sit down.” John hurried in front of Merrilee and the baby, yanked the chair out from under the kitchen table then waited as she lowered the two of them down into the seat. The vision of Merrilee holding this little girl, the sound of the nonsensical words she cooed at the infant, had almost made his knees buckle out from under him.
Maybe he was still wobbly from those kisses.
He’d only meant to hug her, to celebrate the ending of this unmerciful war then step away. He’d been kidding himself to think he could stop there. The feel of Merrilee wrapped in his arms, that teasing scent of vanilla and woman that clung to his senses even in his sleep had been more than he could bear. It felt so natural to hold her close, as if he’d finally found his way back home after a long and unfulfilling journey that had stolen away years of time he should have been able to spend with the one person in this world he’d believed he could be certain of.
Merrilee.
How did she feel about him? Beau felt certain Merrilee still had feelings for him, but was it enough to build a life on? Could they forgive each other the mistakes they’d made in their youth and find a way to make a home together like they’d once hoped to do?
“I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember how to make baby formula, but I’m forgetting something.” She bounced the fussy infant slightly, her hand gently patting the baby’s back. “Does Aurora have the recipe?”
The future would have to wait. John hurried across the kitchen and flung back the curtain hiding long rows of shelved food supplies. “Don’t worry. If I don’t remember all the ingredients, I’m sure Aurora has got a copy of it around here somewhere.”
Merrilee’s soft snort had him turning around in his tracks. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” Her lips twitched with laughter. “Not much can shake you to your core. I never thought I’d see you this befuddled over a baby.”
“And here I thought I was being so levelheaded,” he teased.
Another giggle broke across the room. “Come over here and sit down.”
Worry welled up inside him. “Are you sure? I don’t want her going hungry.”
“She’s asleep. She must have had a little bubble that was bothering her,” Merrilee whispered, her fingers lightly brushing the silky strands of pale hair that dusted the top of the tiny girl’s head.
Was this how she had been with Claire, this need to touch and glance over the infant’s tiny body and face as if to impress every dimple, every inch of pink skin into her memory? John hooked the chair next to her, pulled it out and sat down. “I guess Claire was a little bit bigger when she was born.”
“No, she was born almost a month early.” Her mouth turned up in a soft smile. “Maggie used to tease her about being a little half-baked.”
A month early? Panic rose in his throat. “Was she okay?”
Her smile slipped a little as if the memory of those first days with Claire held more hurt than happiness. “We weren’t sure if she was going to make it at first. She was just so tiny, and I couldn’t get her to nurse.” A pale shade of pink blossomed in her cheeks as she ducked her head. “I felt like such a failure, not being able to feed my own baby.”
“Hey, that kind of thing happens.” John reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb gently stroking back and forth across her lips as if to quiet the words. “You shouldn’t have been so hard on yourself.”
“I know that now.” She leaned a bit closer to him. “I guess I just always...”
“You feel like you missed something because you didn’t get to nurse her.”
“Silly, huh?” She rolled her eyes, but John could tell it truly bothered her. Just like it troubled him to think of Merrilee going through the worry and pain of those dark days alone. “You’d never know by looking at her now that she was a runt.” Merrilee leaned down over the baby. “Just like this little sweetheart.”
If only he’d have been there! He could have held Merrilee close, encouraged her during those dark days, given her his strength to lean on even in his own heartache. And he could have given her his love.
Instead, he’d been kept away, left without even an inkling of what Merrilee was going through, all because Jacob Daniels didn’t believe him good enough for his only daughter, disregarding Merrilee’s feelings on the matter as she was only a “female.” How had the man treated Claire? “Guess Jacob was disappointed with a granddaughter.”
Merrilee snorted. “Daddy and his old-fashioned ideas.”
“That a son had more value than a daughter?”
“I don’t know.” She cocked her head to the side and gave him an impish grin. “Daddy never did like Jeb too much, either.”
John blinked. Her father’s treatment had brought Merrilee more tears than he cared to remember, but she’d always defended him. Until now. “How was Jacob with Claire? He didn’t make her feel...”
“Like she wasn’t good enough, the way he did with me?” She shook her head. “Claire had her grandfather wound around her little finger from the moment she was born.”
“Really?”
“I know, it shocked me, too. But he was kinder, more gentle after Claire came along. I think it was because he was afraid he might lose us both during the birth.”
John’s gut clinched. Merrilee, in danger? He’d just assumed she’d sailed through the pregnancy like she had everything else in life. “Is that why Jacob wanted you to move back in the main house? Because you were expecting?”
“After Mama died in childbirth, I guess Daddy worried about me being all by myself in case something went wrong.” The baby made a little smacking noise in her sleep that instantly drew Merrilee’s attention. She folded her pinky finger and touched the knuckle to the child’s bottom lip. Tiny hands grasped Merrilee’s fist and drew the offered finger into her mouth. “Good thing, too. The doctor put me on bed rest when I was barely five months along.”
Five months. John did a quick calculation and frowned as the realization hit him. That was why she hadn’t shown up the day of their divorce hearing. She’d been confined to her bed to save their child. All this heartache they’d undergone—they’d both have been spared it if he’d been there, if he’d never left. Instead, he’d thought it best to leave and make a better living, instead of staying and sticking out the hard times with her. It would have been tough, going to her father, asking for an extension on their loan. But it would have been worth the shame to have spent the past twelve years with her and Claire.
�
�Here.” The wooden legs of the chair scratched against the floor as Merrilee stood and held out the squirming pile of blankets to him.
The woman couldn’t be serious! John sucked in a lungful of air. “But...I... Why?”
She smiled at his flustered state as she lowered the baby to him. “You’re frowning, and everyone knows that you can’t frown with one of God’s little blessings resting in your arms.”
He made a quick semicircle before she deposited the baby in his arms. “What if she cries?”
“You mean when she cries, because she will. We’ll just figure out exactly what she needs.” Merrilee brushed light fingers against the baby’s hair as if she couldn’t get enough of the silky texture. “I wonder what her name is?”
“Probably doesn’t have one yet.” He shifted her slight weight in his arms, steadying her head more.
“Well, we can’t let her go without a name.” Merrilee sat down across from him, her skirts brushing against the cuffs of his pants. “How does Aurora handle this kind of situation?”
The baby wrapped her hand tightly around his finger. “She usually asks the children what they think the baby should be called.”
Merrilee frowned. “I’ll bet that leads to some interesting names being suggested.”
He leaned in toward her, and she followed suit, her face filling his vision. The freckles that had dusted her nose years before had faded, leaving him regretful that he hadn’t been around to kiss them at least once a day. Hopefully soon he could make up for lost time. “Billy wanted to name Ellie ‘Munchkin.’”
Her green eyes sparkled with laughter. “Oh, dear.”
He glanced back down at the baby. “What would you name her?”
Merrilee tilted her head slightly, her straight white teeth worrying her bottom lip. “How about Sarah?”
Her Grandma Bailey’s given name. Didn’t she want to keep the name in case they had a daughter in the future? Or had Merrilee given up on the possibility of more children, of marriage, of a love that would last for the next forty or fifty years? She deserved better. She deserved every happiness life had to give her, and if he had to spend the rest of his life convincing her of that truth, then so be it.
Hearts Rekindled Page 20
