The Gift of a Child. Laura Abbot

same time her father said, “A desperate parent.”

      Seth looked from one to the other, confused. “What’s going on?”

      Rose and her father joined him at the table. The boy took a peek at Seth, and Rose bent her head, kissing the top of his head. Then she looked up. “I found him.” In words laden with wonder, she explained about the note.

      “Alf,” Seth said, nodding. “A strong name.”

      Again the boy peeked at him. “Nawah,” he said in a tiny voice.

      Seth looked quizzically at Rose, who nodded encouragement. “Nawah,” Seth said.

      “Big,” the boy answered.

      Seth couldn’t help himself. He laughed and spread his arms wide. “Big? Yes, I’m big.” Impulsively he slipped to the floor, sat and folded his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. “Little.”

      The boy eyed him as if trying to decide whether he was friend or foe.

      “Little man now.” Then the boy smiled.

      Seth would never be able to explain what happened next, but to his astonishment, Alf wriggled from Rose’s grasp, edged toward him and sat facing him, mimicking his position. “Boy. Little, too.”

      Seth nodded, then, seized by an inspiration, hooked his hands under the child’s arms, stood and lifted him above his head. “Now the boy is big.”

      This time Alf giggled aloud, and in the background Seth heard Rose gasp. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “You have a magic touch with him.”

      Lowering Alf and cradling him to his chest, Seth was overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name—part protectiveness, part an inexplicable kinship. He pointed to Alf and repeated his name. Then he pointed to himself. “Seth. I am Seth.”

      Alf eyed him curiously, then stroked Seth’s trimmed beard. “Sett. Big. Little. Good.” Then he squirmed around in Seth’s arms to look at Rose and Ezra. “Sett,” he said decisively, as if introducing the man to them.

      In the next half hour, Seth heard the full story—Alf’s discovery, their concern for his safety and health, the need for clothing and Ezra’s plan to notify the sheriff. Seth noticed Rose’s frown when her father mentioned the sheriff. From her earlier comments, he had deduced she hoped to claim the boy as her own.

      Before Seth rose to leave, he set Alf down and knelt to be nearer eye level. “Alf, I am happy to meet you. Miss Rose will take good care of you.” Then he stood and picked up his hat.

      Alf waved at him. “Bye.”

      Ezra, too, picked up his hat. “Rose, I’m off to see Lars Jensen now.”

      Seth could hardly bear to look at Rose, whose wistful expression tore at his heart.

      When the two men reached the barn, Ezra laid a hand on Seth’s shoulders. “You will let Lily and Caleb know. Rose will need Lily’s advice.”

      “I’ll go there directly.”

      The older man’s shoulders slumped. “I know what Rose wants, but I can’t ignore the ramifications of what has happened. I must inform the sheriff.”

      Seth nodded at his wagon. “Can I give you a lift? I’ll pass right by the office.”

      “Wouldn’t say no,” the doctor said.

      The two men fell silent as they rode along, each lost in his own thoughts. Before they reached their destination, Seth wondered whether the footprints he and Sophie had discovered several days ago might provide helpful evidence. One adult. One child. He turned to Ezra. “I’m coming with you.”

      * * *

      Midmorning of the next day, Rose heard a buggy pull in front of the house and out stepped her sister. Picking up Alf, she raced outside. “Lily, oh, Lily.” Overcome by emotion, she couldn’t go on, burying her head in her sister’s embrace.

      In Lily’s eyes she read all the concern and love she had expected. “This must be Alf,” Lily said. She grazed a hand over the boy’s head. “A wonder.” She held out her arms, but Alf remained stubbornly in Rose’s grasp. Lily turned and lifted a basket from the buggy. “I’ve brought a few play things. A set of blocks, a book of nursery rhymes and a wooden wagon model.” She looped her hand through Rose’s free arm and started toward the house. “I think what we should do is make a list of his needs and solicit our friends and neighbors.”

      “But no one knows he’s here yet.” Something clenched inside Rose. She wanted to keep Alf a secret for a bit longer and avoid sharing his story with the curious and the critical.

      Lily raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Darling Rose, you know better. Seth said Papa was at the mercantile and that they both went to the sheriff’s office. Believe me, the word is out. I’m just relieved to get here in time to fend off all the folks who will be stopping by to hear about Alf.”

      Rose kissed the top of Alf’s head. “So soon?”

      In Lily’s expression, she read sympathy tinged with reproach. “The child is yours for now. I have a suspicion what that means to you. What you would like to see happen.” They had reached the front door, and Lily turned to her. “Rose, I will tell you what Mother would say. This little boy is God’s own child. Right now, He is using your hands and heart to tend him. Pray for His will to be done for Alf...and for you.”

      Rose acknowledged the truth of her sister’s advice, but it would be difficult to be patient, hoping that the sheriff never found Alf’s parents. She cringed—that was an unworthy sentiment. How could she wish that a child be permanently separated from his mother and father? That was a sin even beyond envying her sister’s good fortune in giving birth to Mattie. Was she acting from purely selfish motives? Just then Alf left her embrace to run across the floor to pick up Ulysses.

      Lily chuckled. “My, that cat has certainly taken to your boy.”

      “As have I,” Rose murmured. In that moment, she felt a ray of hope. Surely God wouldn’t give her Alf just to rip him away from her. The God she worshipped would never be that heartless.

       Chapter Three

      Carrying Ulysses with him, Alf retreated into a corner of the kitchen, his back turned on Rose and Lily, his attention centered on the blocks Lily had given him. He made not a sound, only occasionally turning his head as if to assure himself Rose was still in the room. Rose fixed tea for herself and her sister, then joined Lily at the kitchen table. Lily pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from her pocket. “Let’s make a list of the boy’s needs. I know others will want to help either by sewing or passing along hand-me-downs.” She licked the pencil tip and began. “Undergarments, trousers, shirts, stockings...” Her voice faltered. Rose stared off in the distance, knowing she should be contributing to the list but unable to think. Her sister gripped her forearm. “Rose, are you all right?”

      Rose’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded at the boy quietly building a wall of blocks. In a whisper she said, “It’s hard to plan, when he may be taken from me at any moment.”

      “You must care for him gladly for as long as you have him.” Lily eyed her with concern. “It’s only realistic to assume his parents will be found.”

      “I know.” Rose struggled to explain. “Sheriff Jensen came yesterday morning after Papa and Seth informed him of our situation. He asked all kinds of questions. How had I found the boy? Had I noticed any strangers skulking about in the past few days? Had the boy said anything to provide clues?” Rose pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and swiped at her tears. “He searched the barn, examined the note, then tried to talk to Alf, who buried his head in my shoulder and wouldn’t even look at the sheriff. All the while I wanted to stop the investigation, to beg the man to leave us be.”

      “Oh, Rose. I know how attached