A Baby For The Minister

The preacher shot her an apologetic look. “It’s going to be about a ten-minute drive. Lark Hill’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere.”

The middle of nowhere. In spite of everything, Natalie’s lips curved into a smile. She’d lived in overcrowded housing projects all her life.

The middle of nowhere sounded wonderful.

Adam just had to show up and go through with their wedding. Cora had made herself very clear. No marriage, no farm.

No future.

Natalie turned her face toward the window and squeezed her eyes shut. Please, Lord. You know I can’t provide a good life for this baby all by myself. Please, let Adam come back.

A few minutes later, Jacob slowed and put on his turn signal, although as far as Natalie could see, there wasn’t another car for miles.

“Here we are,” he said. A tilted sign announced Lark Hill Farm in weather-beaten blue paint. The faded silhouette of a bird perched on the bar of the H, its beak lifted in a silent song.

Natalie winced as the pickup bumped over the ruts of the overgrown driveway, but she forgot her physical misery when she caught her first glimpse of the farmhouse. Her heart sped up as she gazed at the view through the smudged windshield.

This place was just perfect.

* * *

This place was just awful.

Jacob slowed the truck to a gentle stop, but he didn’t bother to turn off the engine. There was no way they’d be staying here for very long. He’d been polite when he’d described the old farm as run-down.

It was a dump.

The tiny one-story farmhouse was covered in peeling white paint. A couple of scraggly chickens were scratching in the dead leaves littering its sagging porch. Beyond the house was a gray rough-lumber barn that had half collapsed. A makeshift fence had been attached to the part that was still standing, and an animal with a multicolored coat and large curved horns peered curiously through the rusty wires.

Natalie pointed. “What’s that?”

Jacob’s heart sank to his toes, along with his general opinion of humanity. “That’s Rufus. What’s he doing here?”

“What’s a Rufus?”

“The most troublesome billy goat in four counties.” Jacob shook his head. “No telling who stuck Adam with him. That animal’s been passed around more than the common cold. Nobody keeps him for long.”

Natalie leaned forward in her seat, peering through the window. “The poor thing. He doesn’t look mean.”

“He’s not. He’s just...irritating. And there’s not a fence made that can hold him.”

He heard a click and turned to see that Natalie had shrugged off his coat and was unsnapping her seat belt.

“Whoa.” Without thinking, he leaned over and caught her hand as she reached for the door lever. It felt small and chilly in his. “What are you doing?”

She stared at him. “I’m going to look around.”

Jacob hesitated, but she seemed pretty determined. “All right. But wait there. I’ll come around and walk with you. There’s junk all over this yard, and you don’t want to fall.”

She already had her door open, but she stopped, looking surprised. “Oh! Okay. Thank you.”

He came around and helped her out of the truck. “Take my arm.” Without waiting for her answer, he took her right hand in his and placed his other arm around her waist. In spite of her pregnancy, she felt as fragile as a bird. They walked slowly toward the house, the hem of her light dress fluttering in the fitful breeze.

When they reached the porch, he halted. “These steps look pretty rickety.” He tested the bottom one. It groaned but didn’t break.

“They seem fine.” She started to move forward, but he stopped her gently.

“Let me go first.” He definitely didn’t need a pregnant lady crashing through some rotten board. He edged in front of her, bouncing on the remaining steps before allowing Natalie to put her weight on them. The old boards protested, but they held together.

As he led her through the leaves toward the front door, he heard a quiet sniffle. He glanced back to catch Natalie swiping a tear off her cheek.

He’d been expecting this ever since he’d told her about Adam.

“Are you okay?” He regretted his choice of words the minute they were out of his mouth. Stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay.

She shook her head and managed a wobbly smile. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m fine. Really. It’s just...”

As he watched her struggle for words, his heart swelled with sympathy. First the wedding disappointment and now this disaster of a house. He waited, praying for the ability to help her cope with whatever feelings she managed to get out. “It’s okay, Natalie. Go ahead and say whatever you need to say. Yell if you want to. After the day you’ve had, I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”

“No, it’s not that.” She sputtered a teary little laugh and dabbed at her eyes again. “It’s just...you’re being so nice to me, holding my arm and walking me up on the porch and all. Don’t mind me. I cry about all sorts of stupid stuff these days. Hormones, I guess.” She gave him a trembling smile. “Wait just a minute. I put the house key in my purse.”

Jacob didn’t smile back. He stood silently on the sagging porch, watching the wind tease strands of Natalie’s hair loose as she searched for the key.

He was usually pretty quick with words, but right now, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. After all Natalie had been through today, that was what finally made her cry? The fact that he wouldn’t let a pregnant woman walk on a half-rotten porch without checking it first?

What kind of life had this woman led?

I don’t have much family. When Natalie had made that quiet admission back at the church, he’d felt a surge of compassion so strong that it had surprised him. He’d always been a sucker for people in trouble, but he hadn’t wanted to help somebody this badly in a long, long time.

He didn’t have much family either, and he knew firsthand how tough that could be. But, of course, loneliness wasn’t the only thing he and Natalie Davis had in common.

Not by a long shot.

The instant he’d caught sight of Natalie’s pregnant profile, he’d known. None of this was accidental. It couldn’t be. Of all the ministers in the surrounding area, as far as he knew, he was the only one who knew firsthand what it was like to struggle with an out-of-wedlock pregnancy.

This situation had God’s fingerprints all over it.

The mistakes Jacob had made before he’d become a Christian still broke his heart, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about them. But he could certainly do something about this.

“I’m going to help you.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she answered him.

“Well, okay. Thanks.” She handed him a long metal key. “It looks really old. I hope it works.”

She thought he meant help with the antique lock. He accepted the key automatically and turned to the door, glad to have something to do until he could think straight again.

The lock was tarnished and flecked with decades of old paint, but the key turned easily enough. He pushed the door open, and a puff of musty air brushed their faces.

The door opened into a small rectangular living room. Dust flurried in the weak sunlight coming through the generous windows, and furry gray cobwebs dangled from the bead board ceiling.