Preacher's In-Name-Only Wife Read online

  With love and sincerity and gratitude,

  Lyssa Farly

  Dan looked at the baby in Ellen Parnelli’s arms, the child fast asleep in the cradle of the infant seat, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had touched her young life.

  Had Lyssa had a premonition of what was to come when she’d written this? Had she been well and simply realizing that our grasp on life is as tenuous as a puff on a dandelion? That nothing should be taken for granted lest our plans don’t coincide with what’s written above?

  Or had she been wheezing for breath and scared, yet holding on long enough to insure her child’s future?

  Lord, if she’d only called him, he would have been there for her, offered what comfort he could. But Lyssa didn’t have a phone. She was proud and independent. He didn’t imagine she had reached out to her neighbors until it was too late.

  He glanced at Amy, who was standing a few paces away, her green eyes worried and filled with questions. She, too, was the type of woman who only reached out for help if there was no other alternative.

  “Pastor Dan?” Ellen’s voice was tentative, shaking with tears.

  He nodded. “It’s okay, Ellen.”

  “Thank you. Lyssa was right to trust you.” She transferred the baby to him, and hooked the diaper bag on his shoulder. “Bless you, Pastor.”

  Sniffing, she hugged him, then gave Amy’s arm a squeeze as she passed.

  Feeling like a man overboard without a lifeboat, he watched Ellen get in her compact car, then looked at Amy.

  “Dan?”

  He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, fought the emotions that were screaming for release.

  “Looks like I’ve become a father as well as a husband in the space of two short weeks.”

  Chapter Eight

  Panic washed over Amy in huge, engulfing waves as she followed Dan back inside.

  “Wait a minute. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “You take what you get, Amy.”

  In other words, he hadn’t asked for marriage but had gone with it. He hadn’t asked for a baby, either, but he would step up to the plate.

  Their lives were accidentally entwined for the next little while. That meant she had to deal with what came into his life while she was in it, too.

  And hadn’t she just been thinking less than a half an hour ago that she’d try to be his rock if he needed a respite?

  She mentally pushed up her sleeves. How much trouble could one little baby be in the scheme of things?

  She found out several minutes later when Dan went into the study to call Cheyenne Bodine at the sheriff’s office to make a report or get some advice or something.

  Amy stared at the unhappy baby in the carrier, and had no idea what to do.

  She was in charge. Very big mistake. Her insides were boiling at a rate that would make a pressure cooker look calm.

  Dan hadn’t been gone more than two minutes when the cherub in a pink bunny suit had scrunched up her little face and started squalling like a she-cat cornered by a tom in a blind alley.

  As Shayna’s cries got louder, Amy’s last nerve frayed. What should she do?

  She didn’t know squat about babies, was sure she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

  She glanced frantically around the room searching for something…anything. Her gaze skimmed everything. A camelback leather sofa with nail-head trim. A matching easy chair with ottoman. Oak tables with rounded corners, no sharp edges she noted, for children to hurt themselves on. A Bible on the lamp stand beside the chair. Magazines on the coffee table. Firewood on the brick hearth. A stash of toys in the corner….

  Toys?

  “The man has toys,” she said aloud, hoping the sound of her voice would get the baby’s attention. “Why does a single man have toys in his house?”

  She grabbed a stuffed elephant from the plastic crate and jumped when it squeaked.

  “Just what we need. More noise.” With a squeaking elephant in one hand and a little rubber duck in the other—also squeaking—she waved and cooed and squeezed.

  “What the heck is all this noise?” Dan asked, striding back into the room.

  “It’s a cattleman’s convention,” she snapped, feeling as helpless as a mime in handcuffs. “What do you think it is? This child is crying to beat the band.”

  “Why didn’t you pick her up?”

  “Why don’t you pick her up?”

  “I was out of the room.” He unhooked the safety restraints and gently lifted the baby in his arms.

  “There, there, sweetheart. It’s okay.” The child shushed.

  Little traitor.

  The look he gave Amy was in direct contrast to the sweetly soothing tone he used on the baby.

  “Well, really, Dan. I have no experience in this area.”

  “And you think I do?”

  “More than me.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “At least you hold them when you christen them…or whatever it is you do.”

  He watched her for a long, thoughtful moment. “Where is this fear coming from?”

  “Who says I’m afraid.”

  “You do,” he said softly. “Actions speak louder than any words.”

  She looked away.

  “Tell me.”

  She sighed and started to link her hands together, jumping when the forgotten elephant squeaked again. She set the toy on the table, rubbed her palms on her jeans. She was perspiring like a diva in a sauna. Helplessness and crying babies tended to do that to a girl.

  “My cousin…we were little girls then, at a family barbecue. She wasn’t supposed to pick up her baby brother, but we sneaked into my mother’s room, where they’d laid the baby down for a nap. I told her not to, but Trena lifted the baby off the bed. It started wriggling around, crying and flailing its arms and legs, arching backward like Gumby.”

  Chills shivered through her body as she replayed the horror.

  “Gramps came into the room and startled Trena, and she dropped the baby. All I could do was stand there, stunned. I was older, Gramps said he expected better of me, that I should have made Trena mind.”

  “And the baby?”

  “A slight concussion. Still, every time I see a little baby, my mind flashes on that image. They’re so small, so helpless.”

  He moved over beside her. “You were a child yourself, Amy. You’re grown now. From where I’m standing, those arms look pretty buff to me. Plenty strong enough to cradle a fifteen-pound infant.”

  The face was so sweet. It was an irrational fear to hang on to.

  “Don’t you think it’s time to see what you’ve been missing? I guarantee you, once she cuddles into your arms you’ll be hooked.”

  That’s what she was afraid of. She had no business getting hooked—on a husband in name only, or a child abandoned on the doorstep.

  But as Dan eased the tiny little girl into her arms, she felt the hook sink into her heart, felt a sweetness, a softness unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  “She’s so…warm, and soft.” Awe washed over her. Though her arms were stiff, she managed to stretch a finger to stroke the baby’s downy cheek.

  Dan draped an arm around her from behind, gazed over her shoulder at the baby. The warm heat of his body pressed against the back of her.

  She went very still. The baby wiggled and fussed, and Amy’s heart lurched into her throat.

  “Easy. You’re doing fine.” He reached around her, cradling one arm beneath the baby, alongside her arm.

  The baby settled.

  Amy wished she could say the same thing for her galloping heart.

  “What now?” she whispered.

  “I called Cheyenne, apprised him of the situation and asked him to check into Lyssa’s family.”

  “But Miz Parnelli said there wasn’t any.”

  “We have to check anyway. And we’ll eventually have to notify social services, officially apply for temporary guardianship.”

  W
e? “Dan, that’s a big undertaking.”

  “Yes.”

  Just like marrying her had been a big undertaking. He didn’t have to say it. She read it in his eyes.

  “I helped bring this child into the world. Lyssa entrusted her to me. They were her wishes. If by some chance this little girl has family, someone who’s capable and wants to raise her, it’d be better to keep her here rather than put her in the system.”

  “You’re right.” Cryin’ all night. She’d been married less than a month. A temporary wife, and now a temporary mother. What next? Where was it written that a woman should have everything but the kitchen sink thrown at her at once?

  Lord have mercy, she needed to catch her breath.

  “Let’s take it a day at a time,” he said. “Right now, we’ve got a baby to see to, and a funeral to prepare for.”

  THANK GOODNESS FOR NEIGHBORS—and for the speed

  of the grapevine.

  Dan left her alone with the baby again while Vera Tillis opened up the General Store so he could purchase the essentials they would need.

  A constant stream of neighbors—bringing a portable crib, a car seat, linens and clothes their children had outgrown—provided for the rest of Shayna’s needs—and a few of Amy’s as well.

  She knew as much about babies as a cow did about ballet lessons. Via the expertise of all the new mothers in town, though, Amy received a crash course in mixing infant formula and changing diapers.

  “Don’t worry,” Emily Bodine said. “Taking care of this little baby will come naturally.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I feel about as far from natural as one can get.”

  Emily smiled. “Trust me. I’ve been in your shoes.”

  “I guess I should feel ashamed admitting my terror to a woman who handles twins.”

  “I gave birth to those twins, yes, but I had no idea what to do with them. I was a surrogate for my sister and brother-in-law—who happened to be Cheyenne’s brother, as well. I was an ad executive with my mind made up that I was merely a nine-month incubator and wouldn’t need to concern myself over motherhood. When my sister and her husband died, the responsibility for the babies was suddenly all mine. I didn’t have a lick of experience. But Cheyenne was there for me. As Dan will be there for you. And if you need anything, anything at all, you’ve only to pick up the phone and give a holler and you’ll have more ladies in your kitchen than you can count.”

  Emily eased the now sleeping baby into the portable crib Hannah Malone had brought over and assembled.

  “I have awful fears of dropping her,” she admitted.

  Laughing softly, Emily patted Amy’s arm. “You’re talking to a certifiable klutz here, a woman who mows down entire displays of canned goods at the general store and can’t back out of a parking space without having to fill out an accident report with her husband. You don’t think I worried about the same thing?”

  “So, I’m normal?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll be fine. The twins are about the same age as Shayna, three months, but they’re a bit bigger. The clothes in the bag should fit fine—plenty of pink girly stuff. I don’t think it’ll hurt her femininity any to wear the blue ones, either. Just plunk a bow in her hair.”

  A bow. Amy didn’t think she’d be tackling elaborate hairdos on this infant’s nearly nonexistent fuzzy hair anytime soon. Diapers and snaps were going to be challenge enough.

  “Well, I better get back to Cheyenne and see if he’s pulling his hair out yet. I left the twins at the sheriff’s station with him and the deputies. The kids are teething and the guys are likely to lock them in a cell for bad behavior.”

  Teething. Oh, no. Did that happen this soon? “Thank you for coming by, Emily. I appreciate the help. Everyone’s been so nice.”

  “Anytime. That’s what neighbors are for.”

  Feeling like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole in an Alice in Wonderland adventure, Amy stared at the sleeping baby in the crib.

  Oh, Shayna was a cutie. There was no doubting that.

  But Amy hadn’t been a child who played with dolls. She’d been focused on grand adventures. What did she know about teething and feeding schedules?

  But determination would come through for her. Dan had lives depending on him all the time through the church, which meant this child’s care would fall on her a good portion of the time.

  Plus he was dealing with his grief over Lyssa’s death.

  Amy had never had anyone counting on her the way a helpless infant no doubt would. Watching over her mother sort of fell in the same category, but it was different.

  Thinking of her mother, though, reminded her that Dan had helped her out. And now he needed her help in return.

  She’d dedicated three months to this agreement.

  Adjusting the quilt over the sleeping baby, Amy decided to make the best of it.

  THEY HAD THE FUNERAL the next day. Clouds billowed overhead, promising snow, but as Dan said his final words, a ray of buttery sunshine found an opening and shone down on the cemetery.

  Dan liked to believe that was God’s way of letting them know that Lyssa was watching from heaven.

  Because Lyssa had indeed been a ray of sunshine who’d kept her faith and searched for the good in everything and everyone when most people would have crawled into a hole and excused their dysfunction on a series of crummy breaks.

  He thought about other funerals he’d spoken over. The hardest ones were the young ones—like Lyssa—who still had so much life ahead of them. Or the babies, like the LaBoard’s premature daughter he’d buried in this same cemetery. They’d had such high hopes for beginning a family, yet instead of tucking their child into a crib and winding up a dancing mobile, they’d had to close the lid on a tiny white coffin.

  In times of death, some family members left behind drew on faith, others shunned it in their pain.

  In Lyssa’s case, there was no one here who cared enough one way or the other.

  A couple of her neighbors from the trailer park came. The rest of the people standing at the gravesite were his own friends and neighbors, here to support him and Amy.

  He noted that Kelly Hammond was cuddling Shayna, the child wrapped in a thick blanket against the wind. Amy stood at her shoulder, looking tired after a near sleepless night with a new baby and grateful for the help.

  She certainly hadn’t signed on for this latest turn of events. At least Dan knew they’d get help from his friends. In this town, there were plenty of loving arms ready and willing to help out.

  Still, the responsibility was primarily his. A child had been orphaned, left motherless.

  And he’d been appointed the white knight.

  That seemed to be happening to him a lot lately, as though he was being tested to see what it would take for him to go back on the vow he’d made fourteen years ago to never turn his back on someone in need.

  So far, he was keeping his end of the bargain. But in doing so, he’d dragged Amy into it, as well.

  AMY DIDN’T ALWAYS BOTHER with makeup, but at least she washed her face. She hadn’t even found time for that simple ritual.

  She could remember drink orders from four tables, recite them accurately to the bartender and deliver them back in front of the correct customer without missing a beat. In the past three days, she couldn’t even remember where she put her hairbrush, or what time it had been when she’d fed the baby last.

  Was she overfeeding the poor thing? Starving it. The baby cried and cried. Incessantly.

  She hugged the warm little body to her chest. “I know, I know. You’ve lost your mama and that gives you every right in the world to caterwaul like a heart-broken kitty cat. I’m a poor substitute, baby doll, but I’m the best you’ve got right now.” She glanced up. “Ignore that. The better half of the substitution just walked in.”

  Dan smiled. “Rough day?”

  “Emily said her babies are teething at three months. Maybe that’s what’s wrong here. I’m at my wits’ end. Do you
think we should call the doctor? I never knew a child could cry this consistently. It can’t be healthy for her.”

  “Want me to have a go at it?”

  “Shayna would probably appreciate it. I don’t think she’s used to me yet.”

  Dan took the baby, and she hushed in a matter of minutes.

  “Well, that’s a bit demoralizing.”

  “She probably just senses that you’re tired.”

  “Or she recognizes you. You’ve been in her life since she was born. Do you think she knows her mother is gone?”

  Sadness swept his face and she was sorry she’d brought up the grief. “Maybe. But I think she knows she’s safe with us. Babies adapt pretty quickly.”

  “Can you define ‘pretty quickly’ for me?”

  He chuckled. “If you want to go on to bed, I’ll take it from here.”

  She sighed. He’d put in a full day of working. He was as tired as she was.

  “No. If you’ll take over with her for a bit, though, I’ll see if I can wade through the mess in the kitchen. It looks like a spoiled Pekingese tore through there with malicious intent.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse. How do people keep up with housekeeping and personal hygiene. I’ve probably got yesterday’s makeup under my eyes and if my hair’s seen a brush in the past two days, nobody’s told me about it. It’s a wonder you didn’t scream and run right back out the door when you got a good gander at me.”

  “I’m not a screamer.”

  She opened her mouth, lewd thoughts running through her head. Honestly. Sex should have been the last thing on her mind. She was so tired she didn’t think she’d have enough energy to return a kiss, much less engage in the kind of activity that would result in screaming.

  Not that she, herself, was a screamer. She didn’t think.

  “Um, I’ll just…go stick my hands in a sink of dishwater.”

  The sound of his soft chuckle followed her out of the room. Okay, she was tired. She’d give herself a break there. But that was no excuse for letting her mind trip off into forbidden territory.

  It was just that he looked so darn good. After spending an entire day trying to second-guess the needs of a child with absolutely no verbal skills—but plenty of stinky bad habits—it stood to reason she’d react to a sexy cowboy preacher whose hat nearly scraped the top of the doorway when he walked into the room, and whose come-and-get-me chocolate-brown eyes had alighted on her like she was Miss Georgia in the swimsuit competition.