“He is three weeks old, sir. But he is not my child, but my baby brother. My mother and father died of the fever and he was born as my mother breathed her last.” Her head bent over the baby and a tear fell on the blanket, one he knew she’d tried not to shed, for she had been careful up until now not to show her emotional state.
“Bring him into the parlor,” David said, leading the way. “I’ll warm up the chicken and heat a bit of milk for his bottle while you change him and make him comfortable.”
Marianne followed him, thankful for his help, her stomach rumbling as she considered the meal she would eat at his table. Her bag held the clean diapers she’d washed earlier at Janet’s home, and in much less time than David had taken to do the same task she had changed and freshened Joshua’s bottom, then she wrapped him again and headed back to the kitchen.
Smells of food were welcome, for she knew she must keep up her strength, and she sat at the table once more, watching as the tall minister worked around the kitchen. Adept at his chores, he stirred the chicken as it simmered on the stove, took plates from the cupboard and found forks in a drawer, all simultaneous moves that astonished Marianne. Her own father had been useless in the kitchen, her mother had often said, for the man was more at home with cows and horses than in the house where the food was prepared.
This young minister seemed to know his way around the kitchen, and in just a few minutes he set a plate of chicken and gravy, side by side with a helping of mashed potatoes, in front of her. A plate of sliced bread and a pat of butter were between them as he settled into a seat across the table, with his own plate of food.
She watched as he lowered his head and spoke soft words of blessing on their food, then she picked up her fork, shamed by the trembling of her hand as she lifted it to her mouth. “I didn’t know I was so hungry,” she said quietly. The food was good, tasty and nourishing, for there were bits of carrots and peas mixed in with the gravy and the chunks of chicken were hearty and plenteous.
A slice of bread was halved and buttered and placed on her plate, and she smiled her thanks. “I suspect it might be difficult to deal with a baby and butter your bread at the same time,” David said with a smile.
Marianne had held Joshua across her arm as she ate, resting his bottle on her breast as he nursed, leaving her free to eat while feeding him. “I usually lay him across my lap and let him sleep while I eat,” Marianne told him. “But he’s wide-awake tonight for some reason. And until he finishes and gets rid of his burp, he’ll be restless.”
David smiled and a chuckle escaped his lips. “Probably because he slept all through the service tonight. He was behind me on a pew and I had hopes that I could outtalk him if he woke up before we were finished.”
“I didn’t see him up there,” Marianne said. “I wondered what you’d done with him, for I saw you carry him into the church.”
“What did you think would happen to him when you left him in the manger?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know, but I’d decided to watch until someone found him and then thought I might offer my services to help take care of him. I really didn’t plan ahead well, but when I saw the empty manger in front of the church, I knew I should put him there and hope for the best.”
“You’re a brave young woman.” He leveled his gaze at her and his voice was soft as he asked her name.
“Marianne Winters. Joshua, as I said, is my brother.”
And if she expected him to believe that, he’d do his best to accept her words as truth, David decided. For the child bore a definite likeness to her—eyes widespread, dark hair and a pointed chin that were small replicas of her own. If he was not Marianne’s own child, it would be a miracle, for being born in the midst of a typhoid epidemic such as the one running rampant over the county during the past month or so was a death sentence in itself. The child surely would have been exposed to the dread disease upon birth. To live through such a thing would have been a miracle.
“If you would like to stay here for the night, I have a spare room to offer you,” David said suddenly. Whether or not his congregation would approve was not an issue as far as he was concerned. This woman needed help and a warm place to sleep with her child, and it would not behoove him as a man of the church to cast her out into the cold. Perhaps she would be willing to work for her keep until she could find a job with enough pay to care for herself and her child.
“I need someone to keep house for me,” he began slowly, offering the idea for her to chew on. “Perhaps you would be interested in working here during the day and staying in a nearby home at night. I’d not be able to pay you a lot, but your food would be included in your wage and I don’t mind having the baby around.”
Marianne looked up in surprise. That such an offer might be made tonight was beyond her wildest dreams. And especially from a man living alone, a man who stood to ruin his good reputation if it became known that he had opened his home to a single woman and a child.
“I wouldn’t do anything to damage your name in town,” she said quietly. “I’m sure it would cause talk if I were to spend my days here, and even though I need work to support myself and Joshua, I hesitate to accept your offer.”
“Stay for tonight anyway, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings,” David said.
“Thank you, Reverend,” Marianne said, her words sincere, for she hadn’t expected such a welcome.
“My name is David. Would you mind calling me by name? It’s been a long time since anyone spoke to me without a title. Sometimes I yearn to be an ordinary man, and I fear that my congregation has put me in a box and labeled me as a man of the church, and I miss being just David McDermott.”
“Have you never been David to anyone here in town?” Marianne asked, seeking to know more about the man who sat so quietly across from her.
“My wife called me David, and had he lived, my son would be calling me Daddy by now, I think.” His eyes grew dark with sorrow as Marianne watched and she rued her words that had caused him such pain. Her hand patted Joshua’s back in a rhythmic fashion as he stirred against her shoulder, and she rubbed the length of his back, knowing that the burp he held within was making him restless.
It erupted on a loud note and Marianne laughed softly, bending to kiss the small head, accepting his offering gladly, for without it he would have slept badly. Now the chances were that he would last until morning without food, kept warm and cuddled closely as he seemed to enjoy.
“Thank you for the meal and for your help,” Marianne said, looking up at David as he cleared the table. His hands moved rapidly as he put the plates into the dishpan, the silverware with them, and then poured in hot water from the stove’s reservoir.
“I’d like to wash the dishes, if you’ll show me where to put the baby down,” she said, rising and looking about for a hallway that might lead to the bedrooms.
“Follow me,” David said quickly. “There are clean sheets on the bed in the spare room and we can leave the door open to let the heat from the stove enter. It’s the room closest to the kitchen, so he should be warm enough.”
The bedroom was small but clean, the bed covered with a handmade quilt, and two fat pillows were propped at the headboard. “This is lovely,” Marianne said, pulling back the quilt to place Joshua in the middle of the big bed.
“I wish I had a cradle to offer you for him, but the one I made for our son was given away after he and his mother died. I couldn’t stand to keep it in the house, and a lady outside town was having her first child and they couldn’t afford a bed for the baby. It seemed the right thing to do, so I offered the one I’d made. They put it to good use.”
Marianne’s heart ached for the loss he’d suffered and her tender heart went out to him, wishing she might have the words to offer that would give surcease