Sherri Shackelford - Mail-Order Christmas Baby

As he stepped inside, the eyes of the congregation swiveled toward him. His string tie was strangling him this morning, and he stuck a finger in his collar, then slid into a seat along the back row beside Otto.

His height gave him an advantage, and he soon spotted Heather and Grace. She glanced over her shoulder and their gazes clashed. Her expression remained inscrutable, and his heart beat a rapid tattoo against his chest. He’d be seeing a lot of her in the future considering they were both going to be living on the same ranch, and he’d best get control of his feelings.

The reverend assumed his place at the lectern, distracting her, and the moment was broken.

Sterling spent the first half of the sermon rehearsing his confession to Heather. When he finally had the words just right in his head, the hairs on the back of his neck stirred.

The folks in church were unusually restless, even for one of the reverend’s sermons. Several people in the congregation flicked glances over their shoulders in his direction, then quickly turned back toward the front.

Sterling’s attention sharpened, and he focused on the man’s words. The reverend finished reading a letter from Corinthians that seemed awfully heavy on warnings against the immoral and admonishments against those who consorted with immoral people. A bead of sweat formed on the back of Sterling’s neck.

The reverend set down his Bible, braced his hands on either side of the lectern, and stared down the congregation. “I am a deeply troubled man. I believe in a God who believes in love and compassion, and I believe in a God who believes in forgiveness.” He heaved a great sigh. “But I also believe in a set of moral codes. As a man of God, I find solace in a righteous path.”

Several people shifted in their seats. Otto and Sterling exchanged a glance. Was it just his imagination, or had the sermon taken on a decidedly personal note?

“A child has come into our community under extraordinary circumstances.”

Sterling’s face burned. Nope. It wasn’t his imagination.

“I have listened to the concerns of my community.” The volume of the reverend’s voice rose to a crescendo, reverberating directly into Sterling’s ears. “And I have answered your questions to the best of my ability. After much soul-searching, I have come to the conclusion that you cannot choose to live a life of sin and also join with us in worship, Mr. Blackwell and Miss O’Connor. You are no longer welcome among our congregation.”

A collective gasp erupted. Sterling shot to his feet, along with Otto. Heather propped Grace on her hip as she scooted out of the pew. The brim of her hat covered her face, preventing him from reading her expression.

As she rushed down the aisle, he caught her by the wrist before she reached the door. Her pulse beat rapidly beneath his fingertips. “Wait. We can explain. I can fix this.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

Otto hitched his pants and threw back his shoulder. “Hold up on the fire and brimstone, Reverend. These two plan on getting hitched. Right now, if you like.”

Chapter Three

Heather froze in place. A smattering of applause sounded, and the congregation descended into excited chatter.

“What are you doing, Otto?” Sterling whispered harshly.

The foreman shrugged. “Ain’t that what you told me on the way over? That you two was getting hitched?”

Judging by the look on Sterling’s face, that wasn’t what he’d said at all. The commotion was agitating Grace, and Heather bounced the child on her hip. While events weren’t exactly going to plan, at least they were moving in the right direction.

The reverend banged his hand on the lectern. “A little decorum, if you please. Is this true, Miss O’Connor, Mr. Blackwell?”

Heather turned toward Sterling and lifted her shoulder in a helpless shrug. The reverend took the vague gesture as a sign of agreement.

“Hallelujah.” Using his gnarled fingers, he pinched the loose end of his robe sleeves against his wrist and dabbed at his brow. “The wedding of Miss O’Connor and Mr. Blackwell will take place in exactly two hours.”

Appearing exhausted by the sudden turn of events, the reverend tucked his Bible beneath his arm and strode down the aisle.

He paused before Heather and Sterling. “I’ll fetch the witness book. Two hours.”

Her breath caught. Events weren’t just moving in the right direction, they were racing ahead and leaving her behind.

Confused by the abrupt end of the service, the townspeople stood and milled about, their voices droning.

Otto placed two fingers in his mouth and blew out a whistle. “Don’t just stand around. Go on home and have supper.”

His words spurred the crowd into action. People gathered their belongings, shrugging into coats, and men donned their hats.

Heather cast a surreptitious glance at Sterling to gauge his response, then quickly looked away. He wasn’t taking this well. At least she had two hours to convince him of her plan. Keeping him in her peripheral vision, she fielded murmured congratulations and perfunctory handshakes as the church emptied.

Otto was the last person to leave. He tipped his hat. “See you after supper.”

Alone with Sterling, her courage faltered. All her careful words muddled together in her head.

Seemingly in a similar place, Sterling paced the center aisle with the restless energy of a caged bear. “I telegraphed Dillon.”

Her hold on Grace slipped. “You did what?”

“I’m trying to make this right.” He flipped back the edges of his jacket and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his gray wool trousers. “It’s my fault Dillon broke things off with you.”

Her panic must have registered with Grace. The child’s lower lip trembled, and she tugged on Heather’s earbobs.

“Ma!”

“No. Not yours. Mine,” Heather corrected the child. She flashed an apologetic look at Sterling. “I think that’s what she was trying to say at the train depot. I think ma means mine. She’s very taken with shiny things.”

“You have to listen to me, Heather.” Sterling grasped her shoulder and steered her toward a pew in the last row, then knelt before her. “I’m the reason you’re not with Dillon.”

Gracie had already been forced to sit still for too long, and her patience lapsed. She flipped onto her stomach and let her feet dangle off the edge of the pew.

“Da.”

“Down.” Heather helped her the rest of the way. “Gracie is down.”

“Da,” Gracie repeated.

For the past week, Heather had felt like a professor attempting to decipher a new language. Words often coincided with actions, giving her clues as to Gracie’s intent. More often than not, they both wound up frustrated with each other.

“What do you mean?” Heather asked, her attention distracted by Gracie’s busy explorations. “I already know about your pa. You don’t have to apologize for him. I understand.”

There was no need for him to explain, and all this talk of Dillon was wasting what precious little time they had together before the reverend returned.

Sterling rubbed his eyebrows with the tips of his fingers. “Dillon left because I talked him into going.”

“Oh.” She was more curious than shocked. “I thought your pa disapproved.”

“It’s a long story.” He pressed his hands together as though in prayer. “I had this all rehearsed, but nothing is going as planned.”

She huffed out a breath. “I know the feeling.”

“I didn’t want Dillon to become like our pa.” He tilted his fingertips toward her. “I knew if Dillon stayed, he’d be just like him. I saw the changes as he got older. I talked him into leaving even though I knew he was sweet on you. I told myself the two of you weren’t serious.”