Chapter Eight #4
Since she had no idea where Sarah’s class was, declining his offer seemed counterproductive so Maggie nodded.
When she stepped into Sarah’s classroom, her hostess’s delighted smile at seeing her with Walker gave away that she had indeed left Maggie in the lobby on purpose.
Maggie fought sighing. She only had herself to blame after saying she was going to help decorate with him.
Would he hold her to that, or would he assume she’d only used him as an excuse and had no intention of following through?
If she didn’t go to his place, then how would she explain that to Sarah?
Maggie bit into her lower lip. She should not care so much what her hostess thought.
Sarah was her assignment, not her friend.
Only … only nothing. Her reason for not wanting to disappoint Sarah was because she needed to keep Sarah close.
She was not actually getting attached to the people in Pine Hill.
Walker settled Zoie into one of the baby seats attached to a C-shaped table with Sarah in the middle, then turned toward Maggie. “Keep an eye on Zo for me, okay, princess?”
Giving in to her need to sigh, Maggie didn’t correct him on calling her that. Why bother when it was apparent he had no plans to stop? “Sure thing, Prince Not-So-Charming.”
Eyes twinkling, he grinned at her comeback. Despite her previous thought about lack of attachment, his grin had happy little strings dancing in her chest, binding up good sense and curving her lips in a return smile. Heaven help her.
There were three other helpers, but Sarah pointed for Maggie to stay near Zoie. The class was busy with eight babies who were all around a year old.
“Pat your little baby hands. Pat your little baby hands. Pat your little baby hands that God made,” Sarah sang.
As if each one of them understood, the babies all patted their little hands against the table. Sarah continued the fast-paced lessons, changing out soft squeaky animal toys that God made to small bibles.
“Do we eat our bibles?” Sarah asked the babies, then dramatically shook her head. “No, we don’t eat our bibles. We read our bibles to learn about God’s word.”
Several of the babies shook their heads in imitation of Sarah. Maggie watched in awe at how Sarah held their attention with her cutesy singsong lessons.
“She’s good with them,” one of Sarah’s teacher assistants whispered to Maggie.
Maggie nodded. What else could she say? Sarah really was amazing.
Time passed quickly. But before the class ended, John Luke, a chubby one-year-old was able to lean close enough to Zoie that he tightly grasped her hair.
Face squishing and turning bright red, Zoie shrieked.
Loudly. Seeing her cry, the boy began bawling, too, but didn’t let go of his fistful of hair.
Maggie and the assistant closest to them began untangling John Luke’s fingers.
“Almost free,” the assistant assured over both babies’ squalls. “Get Zoie and love on her.”
Panic hit. How had Maggie gone from hardened soldier to sitting in a Sunday morning church classroom about to “love on” a baby? On Walker’s baby?
As the assistant kept a hold on the boy’s hands, Maggie undid Zoie’s safety belt and lifted her from the built-in baby seat.
Sarah kept going with her lesson, not missing a beat with the knowledge that her assistant would handle the incident.
They probably dealt with similar situations every week.
Maggie, however, did not. Being around a toddler who could walk and communicate was different from a one-year-old whose words were limited to a handful at best.
Hands wrapped around Zoie; Maggie held the crying baby girl out from her. Zoie’s cries got worse rather than better. Maggie looked to Sarah for guidance. Still singing, Sarah made a hugging-to-herself motion.
Maggie wasn’t sure Zoie wanted to be held close, but she did so.
Instinct must have kicked in because she automatically started patting the baby’s back and trying to comfort her.
To try to be less of a distraction for the other babies, she walked to the back corner of the colorfully decorated classroom and bounced a little while she tried to console Zoie.
“It’s okay,” she heard herself whisper. “He’s not pulling your hair anymore.”
Maggie continued to bounce, and pat. Zoie continued to weep, but soon her sobs softened, turning into soft whimpers; then silence as the baby went limp against her.
Panic shot through Maggie at the silence, but she realized Zoie had cried herself to sleep.
Afraid she’d wake her, and the crying would resume, Maggie kept bouncing and patting, just lighter.
The baby’s warmth snuggled against Maggie had her breathing in the scent of her lightly fragranced shampoo, had her lowering to brush her cheek against the fine softness of Zoie’s dark hair.
An ache settled into Maggie’s belly as harsh reality hit.
She’d never have this. She’d thought it more than once while helping Sarah with Jeannie in some way or another but holding snuggly one-year-old Zoie made the truth more stabbingly painful.
She’d never wanted kids, she reminded herself.
She’d planned to be a career military girl.
But fate had had different plans, and she wouldn’t have either.
Swallowing, she choked back tears and kissed the top of Zoie’s head.
A buzzer sounded and Sarah finished the class. Parents came to collect their little ones, including Walker. His gaze went from the empty seat where he’d left Zoie to almost immediately spotting her in Maggie’s arms.
Meeting his gaze, seeing the softening there, Maggie’s breath caught, and she swallowed.
No. No. No. He should not be looking at her that way.
He just shouldn’t. Because his eyes said he liked what he saw; that Zoie looked good in Maggie’s arms, and she felt those dancing strings tightening in her chest. Seeing him look at her that way had her eyes watering again.
Happy. Sad. So many emotions tangled up inside her chest.
“John Luke pulled her hair,” Maggie explained while trying to pull herself together. Her tears wouldn’t escape. She wouldn’t let them. “I tried to calm her, but she cried herself to sleep.”
“Thanks for comforting her.” His gaze lowered to his daughter. “She looks so peaceful. I hate to wake her, especially if she’s not been asleep long. She didn’t rest well last night. I think she’s cutting another tooth.”
Zoie hadn’t slept well? Maggie hugged her a little closer.
“I could, uhm, I could keep holding her for you.” Now why had she offered that?
She needed to hand his baby to him. She’d already invited herself to spend the afternoon with him. She did not need to cuddle his daughter at church too.
Molten gold flickered in Walker’s eyes. Pleased, happy molten gold. Maggie’s belly did a flip-flop. “That would make getting through services a lot easier. If she wakes now, she’s likely to fuss.”
Why was she relieved? Was she enjoying holding the baby that much? Why was she torturing herself this way?
“I-I’m here with Sarah, but if she doesn’t mind—”
“I don’t mind,” Sarah interrupted from where she gathered her things.
Her hostess gave her a thumbs-up, having obviously overheard their conversation. No doubt Sarah would have questions. Maggie would worry about that later.
“I’m going to get Jeannie and will find you after services.”
Maggie followed the flow of the crowd into the large auditorium, then stopped, not sure where she needed to go.
A baptistry, podium, and the like were at the opposite end of the sanctuary.
Long wooden pews with the seats covered with deep green cushions filled the room.
Some of the seats were already occupied with various Pine Hill churchgoers.
Maggie had no recall of having attended church in the past and had zero church etiquette.
Did one just sit wherever or was there a seating order that she was going to disrupt if she just sat anywhere?
Walker leaned close. “Choose anywhere you like, princess. People tend to choose the same pews, but no one is going to be upset to swap to a different row,” he assured.
“I usually sit near the back in case I need to go to the nursery with Zoie. Sarah sits in the front. If you feel more comfortable being near Sarah, we’ll sit in the pew where she usually does. I’m game for whatever.”
Because he wanted her to be as comfortable as she could be when she was so out of her element by just being there.
Even if it inconvenienced him, he’d gladly accommodate whatever she preferred.
How could someone that phenomenally attractive also be so thoughtful?
Not liking him so much would be a lot easier if he wasn’t such a nice guy.
Call it old habits dying hard, but Maggie didn’t want to be in the front with her back to the wide doors leading into the auditorium. “The back, please. Just show me where you usually sit.”
He gestured to the very back pew. “This may be left over from my rowdy youth, but I’m a back row kind of guy.”
Which worked well since it was where Maggie preferred to sit. That way she had a view of the entire auditorium.
“I can see that about you.” But maybe she couldn’t really because he came across as such a great guy.
Imagining him as a rowdy youth, yeah, she couldn’t do it.
Maggie made her way several feet between the pews.
Careful not to disturb Zoie, she sat down.
Yeah, this was a good spot for keeping an eye on the congregation.
She’d have had limited visibility if they’d gone up front.
Plus, she’d have felt like everyone was looking at her for daring to enter a church when she’d done such horrible things.
In the back, she could try to blend and hopefully no one would notice she was there.
No such luck, of course.