Lenora Worth - Ben's Bundle of Joy

“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.”