The Magic of Christmas. Carolyn Davidson

just go and get Joshua and feed him before I make your breakfast,” she said, heading for the spare room.

      “Why not bring him out here and let me feed him and you can go ahead with breakfast. We’ll kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

      Her smile was quick and ready, and he basked in the warmth of it. “I’ll wait here in the rocking chair.” And for the first time in months he sat in the rocker he’d bought for Laura during her pregnancy, pressing his foot against the floor in a slow fashion, allowing the chair to perform as it had been constructed to do.

      Marianne came back from the bedroom, Joshua wrapped securely in his blanket, and collected the bottle from the table as she approached David. Her arms were extended to him and he took the small bundle from her, feeling an emotion akin to sorrow as he held the tiny mite against his chest. So might he have held the child Laura had borne months ago, and he caught his breath quickly, lest Marianne think he did not want to feed Joshua as he’d offered.

      His eyes felt damp with tears that he refused to shed. Not that it was a matter of manliness or masculine pride, but he would not make her uncomfortable with his spasm of sorrow. His grief was no longer fresh, and he found that he spent hours without its presence in his heart. Now he had the opportunity of holding a child, though not his own, yet in a sense he felt a kinship to Joshua.

      That he had found the child in his manger in the midst of the Nativity scene he’d constructed with his own hands was certainly part of his feeling of ownership of the child. Though children could not be possessed as might a dog or cow or some other belonging, he felt that Joshua was meant in some distinct way to be a part of his life. He had had a wife, never treating her as a possession, but as a partner in the wonders of marriage. They had been happy together, her cheerful demeanor giving him joy each day, her loving arms filling him with the satisfaction of a relationship that went beyond friendship, and hovered on the edge of love.

      He’d made the mistake of not speaking his love aloud to Laura, assuming that she knew of his devotion to her, and had spent long hours of regret after her death, that he had never declared his heart aloud. Should he ever have the opportunity again to share such a relationship with a woman, he would not make the same mistake, he vowed silently.

      And then he cuddled the baby against him, testing the warmth of the milk in the palm of his hand as he offered the nipple to Joshua’s rosy mouth. With gusto the baby attached himself to the rubber nipple and nursed. The span of eight hours or so had made him hungry and he clung tightly to the source of nourishment, almost choking on the abundance of milk he consumed.

      Finally he released the nipple and his burp was loud and long, Marianne turning from the stove to laugh at him.

      “He has no manners to speak of,” she said with a joyous light in her eyes. “I’ve never enjoyed anything so much in my life as I have tending him over the past weeks. He keeps my grief at bay somehow. Even though I miss my parents terribly, he manages to soothe my heartache.” Her words were soft, almost whispered, but David heard them clearly, knowing the truth in what she said, for she did not seem to have any sense of protecting herself from him. She was open and her heart was clearly involved in the child he held.

      He watched her as she sliced bacon and placed it in his skillet, cracked eggs and whipped them to a froth with a turning fork, then poured the mixture into a second skillet. Bread was sliced and she slid it into the oven, lifting a stove lid to check the flames within. She was efficient, capable of tending to the making of a meal, and she’d obviously been well trained in her skills in the kitchen.

      “Did you cook for your mother and father?” he asked, and she nodded, as if unable to speak of it aloud. He thought her shoulders trembled as she faced the stove and then she uttered words of regret, making him sorry he’d asked his question.

      “I used to think it was a chore to cook sometimes, but my mother was not well when she carried Joshua and I had the full load of tending the kitchen and keeping the house clean. I thought if I were cooking for a family of my own it might have been more enjoyable, but I could foresee years ahead of helping with my parents and the child that came so late in their lives. They had not expected to have more children after I was born, for my mother bore several infants born too soon and they were not able to survive. There were four graves beyond our orchard, and she was not happy when she discovered that Joshua was on his way, for she was certain that he would share a similar fate with those who had come before.”

      “How fortunate that he was a survivor,” David said softly, looking down at the sleeping child he held. The bottle was almost empty and the baby had bubbled a drop of milk from his mouth, making David yearn to bend low to kiss it away.

      “My mother would have been heartbroken had he not lived. I like to think that she knew somehow that he was a healthy child even though she died in birthing him. It wasn’t the birth that caused her death, but the fever she had suffered with for two days. The doctor said it was a miracle that Joshua hadn’t succumbed to it himself, but he didn’t ever show signs of sickness, right from the first. I think he was meant to live.”

      “I agree with you, Marianne. He has a purpose in life to fulfill, as do we all. Your mother’s may have been in bearing him and giving him life. We have no way of knowing what lies ahead for a child, only that we must do our best to raise him in such a way that he be a good man and a credit to his parents.”

      “I’ll do my best to fulfill my mother’s dreams for him, David. She and my father were so looking forward to his birth, and it seemed I was bitter and angry with God for taking their lives just when it seemed happiness was in their future.”

      “We don’t know why things happen the way they do, Marianne, but I’m sure Joshua will be a good man, with you to raise him and provide for him.”

      She put two plates on the table, steam rising from the scrambled eggs, and then retrieved the bread from the oven, where it had toasted golden-brown. “Let me take Joshua now,” she said, moving toward the rocking chair, her arms outstretched. She took him carefully in her arms, bent to press her lips on his forehead and carried him to the bedroom.

      Within moments she was back, taking her seat at the table, across from where David awaited her presence. He bent his head and spoke brief words of thanks for the food, asking a special thanksgiving for the joyous blessings of Christmas, and then lifted his eyes to meet her gaze.

      “Eat while it’s hot, Marianne. We have things to tend to this morning. I haven’t found it in my heart to celebrate Christmas this year, but I find that there is reason to rejoice today. I’m going to speak to our mayor this morning. I don’t want to interrupt his holiday with his family, but I think he will understand the reason for my concern.”

      “Will you stay here while I go and see Janet first?” she asked, needing to make arrangements for a place to sleep should Janet be agreeable to the plan she had concocted.

      “Of course. Let Joshua have his morning nap while you go, and I’ll clean up the breakfast things.”

      Her face lit with a smile, and he thought once again that she was a lovely girl. A woman really, for she was certainly of age to be married and have a child, at least almost out of her teens. And to that end he asked a question that had gnawed at his mind.

      “How old are you, Marianne? Perhaps it’s none of my business, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m taking advantage of a young girl, asking you to work for me with little in the way of payment.”

      “I’m eighteen,” she answered. “I might have been married and expecting a family of my own by now, but the young man who had been courting me contracted the fever and was buried just before my parents died.” Her eyes were dark with the additional sorrow of that loss and he felt a pang of pity as he considered the grief she must bear.

      “I’m sorry for your pain. It may be that we can comfort each other in our grief, Marianne. For if my plans go aright, I’m going to ask my church board their opinion of a marriage between you and me. I think it would work out well for us, and I want you to know that I would not expect you to fill the role of a wife before you felt ready