“Thank you, thank you. I’m happy for any help I can get. I couldn’t believe it when I found— Well, here. Come with me and I’ll show you.”
Shawn’s stride was long and confident as he led them up the sanctuary aisle to where a life-size crèche beckoned. Heather’s heart leaped when she saw the tiny infant lying in the manger, swaddled in what looked to be a tattered football blanket. She wondered if the baby had been left that way by the mother, or if the blanket was Shawn’s touch.
“Oh, the poor little dear,” Jo exclaimed, wasting no time in scooping the baby into her arms.
“He fell asleep, so I placed him back in the manger. Or her—I don’t really know yet. It seemed like a safe spot, as close to a crib as I have available. As you can see, I’m way out of my league here.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine how you felt when you discovered the babe,” Jo agreed, kissing the now-squirming infant’s forehead. “And this is how you found him? Er—her? All wrapped up in this blanket?” Jo turned and thrust the baby toward Heather. “Heather, dear, can you help me get this poor little thing’s diaper changed and get the boy/girl thing settled for us? I am already weary of referring to him/her in a double-gender fashion.”
Heather accepted the infant and sat down on the front pew to change the child. It wasn’t the most ideal of conditions, but at this point the baby’s needs and comfort were more important than the propriety of the church setting.
“It’s a girl,” she informed them as she reswaddled the infant, this time in a soft, clean pink receiving blanket she’d brought along in her stash of baby things, leftovers from her previous career as a day-care provider.
“A girl,” Shawn repeated, his gaze tender and his voice full of wonder. “How about that?” From the bemused expression on his face and the way his warm voice dipped in awe, she might have thought he’d never seen a newborn baby before. Maybe it was just the shock of the situation that had thrown him.
“The poor mother,” Jo breathed, placing an empathetic hand over her heart. “I can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now, to have abandoned her own flesh and blood on Christmas Eve, of all times. What kind of circumstances must she be under to prompt her to such an action?”
Heather bit the inside of her lip until she tasted copper. She could easily imagine such a situation—any number of them, actually.
“I agree,” Shawn said in a low whisper so as not to startle the baby. “I was thinking the same thing. It’s awful even to consider.”
“It’s the infant we need to worry about right now,” Heather stated, her tone threaded with pain. “That’s what the mother would have wanted.” She believed the baby’s mother had taken this drastic step for the sake of her child, and her heart flooded with compassion for both. She could do no less for the unknown woman than to make sure her baby was safe and well cared for.
Shawn’s eyes slid to her, then shifted back to the infant. His gaze softened as he stared down at the tiny bundle. “Yes, of course.”
Heather rummaged through the box of supplies and produced a bottle of formula she’d mixed together before leaving the house. While she didn’t have any infants in her care currently, she’d never managed to get off the formula-makers’ sample lists, and she was now glad of it, for the expiration date had not yet passed. “Getting her changed and fed is a good first step, but it’s not going to solve the real problem.”
Shawn brushed his palm over his jaw, which was taut with strain. “Right. We need to call in the appropriate authorities and decide what needs to happen next. I’ll phone the police station first, and then we’d probably better get Delia Bowden on the line to make sure the poor little thing doesn’t have any pressing medical problems.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “What a mess. I really hate having to disturb everyone in the middle of the night, especially on Christmas Eve.”
“It can’t be helped, dear,” Jo reminded him. “I don’t think it’s anything we can wait on. The police will probably want to start looking for the baby’s mother sooner rather than later. She hasn’t had that long to have gotten out of town. We don’t know anything about her circumstances—she might be injured. And while she looks fine to me, we can’t assume sweet Baby Girl here is healthy until Dr. Delia has had the opportunity to look her over.”
Shawn’s gaze narrowed and his lips tightened into a straight line. “If you ladies will stay with the baby, I’ll make the calls.”
He stepped out of the sanctuary, and Jo slid into the pew next to Heather, holding her arms out for the baby. Heather gently transferred the fragile bundle into the older woman’s arms.
“What’s your take on all this?” Jo murmured.
Heather shivered, masking it as a shrug. “I can’t begin to guess. I feel in my gut that something truly terrible must have happened. It’s got to be just horrible for the mother, whoever she is. Wherever she is.”
“When Shawn returns we should all say a prayer for her,” Jo stated with a firm nod that sent her red curls bouncing.
“Mmm.” Heather acknowledged Jo’s suggestion without agreeing to it. Jo Spencer was a woman of faith, and they were in a church, after all, so Heather supposed it only made sense that prayer would be part of the equation. It wasn’t that she had anything against prayer, per se, but it seemed to her like an exercise in futility. Her prayers—not that she’d said many of them lately—seemed as if they bounced off the ceiling and came right back at her. They were certainly never answered.
“I know the police will want to look for her, but I have a feeling she’s not of a mind to be found. Chances are she’s out of Serendipity by now, though she couldn’t have gotten far. Or possibly she’s in hiding.”
Shawn approached, sliding his cell phone into the chest pocket of his shirt. Heather didn’t know how long he’d been listening, but he’d clearly caught Jo’s last statement, at the very least. “Can either of you hazard a guess as to who the mother might be? I’m fairly certain it’s no one here at the parish.”
Heather shook her head. She’d only been back in Serendipity for a few months, and the truth was, she hadn’t been overly social during that time. She preferred to spend all her time taking care of her three foster children, attending the older boy’s sports games, mentoring her little girl’s second-grade class in reading and volunteering for the preschool library day with little Henry. She’d crossed paths with some old friends at the grocery store or the gas station, but she made sure the chats were brief, and any plans to “get together and catch up” were kept deliberately vague. Frankly, she didn’t have much time or use for adult company.
She glanced at Jo for the answer to Shawn’s question, expecting that she would know something, but to her surprise, the older woman was likewise shaking her head.
“It’s the strangest thing,” Jo conceded. “I’m not aware of any women in the area who are bursting at the seams to be delivering a precious little bundle of joy—inside or outside the parish.”
“So probably not a local, then.” Shawn crouched before Jo and wiggled his fingers in front of the baby. The infant grasped his forefinger and pulled it toward her mouth. “She’s a strong little thing. A real fighter.”
“From the looks of things, she’s going to have to be,” Jo responded soberly. Both Shawn and Heather agreed with a nod.
Heather’s heart physically ached for the baby girl. So sweet. So helpless. The world was harsh even to the tiniest and most innocent of God’s creatures.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
“So what’s next?” Heather asked, clasping her hands in her lap.