On the Doorstep. Dana Corbit

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      Oh was right. Biting her lip, Kelly managed not to laugh. In the whole time Pilar had worked at Tiny Blessings, she’d gone on maybe a handful of dates, and it was a pretty empty hand at that. She was pleased to realize her friend wasn’t immune to the handsome Detective Fletcher.

      As immediately after work as she could without leaving before five or speeding, Pilar arrived at the door of the downtown tri-level that felt as comfortable to her as her parents’ home.

      The warmth that poured out of the place the moment Naomi Fraser opened the glass storm door made Pilar smile. Naomi’s vivid blue eyes glistened in the late-afternoon sun as she nabbed Pilar for a not-so-quick hug against her pillow-soft body.

      “You sure made it here fast.”

      “Traffic was good,” Pilar managed to get out, still enclosed in that warm embrace. If there had been traffic tie-ups she might have been tempted to drive on the sidewalk, but Pilar didn’t tell the minister’s wife that.

      Naomi let go in her own sweet time and took a step back as if to appraise her guest. She shook her head, her no-nonsense short haircut fluttering and falling back into place, and gave Pilar one more squeeze for good measure.

      That Naomi always hugged like she meant it was one of the things Pilar adored about the woman she’d known since her days on the church’s infant cradle roll. There were plenty of other reasons to like someone who wore pearls with blue jeans and never sugarcoated the truth, but Pilar liked the hugs best. And it was a well-known fact that one of the best advertisements Reverend John Fraser had for his church was his redheaded darling of a wife.

      “Good traffic is a blessing, and so are babies.” Naomi’s eyes danced with excitement as she led Pilar to the dark-paneled family room and gestured toward the portable crib in the corner. “You were right—he’s a baby doll.”

      Her pulse racing, Pilar could barely restrain herself from sprinting over to the crib, grabbing Gabriel and holding him against her heart. She forced herself to slow down by studying the Frasers’ clean but lived-in house. The stacks of books, Bibles and crossword puzzle magazines, so different from her mother’s immaculate home, made the room seem as relaxed as the family itself.

      Proud of herself for her control, Pilar finally was close enough to peek over the edge of the crib’s mesh side. Gabriel lay there on his back, with one arm he’d freed from his swaddling blanket pressed against his jaw. Until her lungs started aching, Pilar didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled it slowly.

      “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Naomi asked.

      And alone, she wanted to add, but she only nodded. When she couldn’t resist any longer, she reached over the side of the crib to brush his damp hair. He slept so soundly that he didn’t move, except for the even rise and fall of his chest.

      Naomi stepped close and whispered, “He’s been sleeping like that almost since he got here. Those doctors probably wore him out.”

      “They said he was all right, didn’t they?” Her question sounded too sharp in her ears.

      “Of course,” Naomi said, though she studied her for a few seconds. “He’s a perfectly healthy baby boy. And really new, too—no more than a few days.”

      “I still can’t believe Gabriel ended up here. I was so surprised when you mentioned it on the phone earlier.”

      “It shouldn’t surprise you too much,” Reverend Fraser said as he crossed from the kitchen back to his study, a handful of chocolate chip cookies in his grip. His wire-rim glasses were perched on his nose like always, but he wasn’t wearing his clerical collar.

      “We’ve been licensed foster parents almost ten years now. Somebody’s always coming or going through that door.”

      He pointed to the mantel and to the wall collages where photographs of John and Naomi’s two adult children, Jonah and Dinah, and teenage daughter, Ruth, shared space with pictures of at least thirty other children.

      “But not—” Pilar stopped herself before saying “my baby,” but just barely. “Not the baby I found.”

      The minister’s dark brown eyes peered at her over the tops of his glasses before he smiled.

      “You’re right. He is a rare one.”

      Patting Pilar’s shoulder as he passed, he stopped at the side of the crib. “Now that’s a fine-looking fellow if I ever saw one.” With a wave he slipped into his study, leaving the door open a crack.

      “Mom, do I get to hold the new baby before practice?” Sixteen-year-old Ruth Fraser chased her question into the room in a blur of bright copper hair and red-and-black pom-poms. When she noticed Pilar there, she gave the same electric smile she must have offered the judges for her competitive cheerleading competitions.

      “Hey, Pilar. Did I hear you found Gabriel in a cabbage patch?”

      Pilar grinned at the brown-eyed, freckled teen who shared her mother’s exuberance. “No, on a doorstep. He stayed a lot cleaner that way.”

      As if he recognized he was center of discussion, Gabriel started grunting and wiggling in his blanket. His eyes popped open. Naomi bent to lift him from the crib and rested him against her shoulder. Ruth held out her arms, pom-poms dangling from her hands, but Naomi waved her off.

      “You’ve got about ten minutes to pick up your room before practice. You’ll have plenty of time to hold him later, after prayer meeting.” Naomi winked at her daughter. “Since Gabriel’s going to be up all night, you can have the three o’clock shift.”

      “Gee, thanks, Mom.” She frowned and then grinned.

      “Didn’t Dinah volunteer for the night shift?”

      “Eeeee. Wrong answer. Your sister won’t even get off work at the grocery store until eleven, and she might get called to substitute teach in the morning.”

      “She gets all the breaks.”

      “I’ll be sure to tell her that,” Naomi said brightly.

      “Now, are you going? Your room isn’t getting any cleaner while we’re chatting.”

      Ruth tilted her head to the side. “Can I take the minivan?”

      “If you remember to put gas in it this time,” Reverend Fraser called from the other room.

      “I’ll try, Dad.”

      “Don’t try. Succeed.” He closed the door, probably to finish his Sunday sermon.

      “See you at church,” Ruth called as she jogged to the kitchen for the car keys. “Don’t forget to pick up Tori from play practice.”

      “I won’t forget.” At Pilar’s questioning look, Naomi explained. “Victoria St. Claire. You’ve probably seen her one of these past few Sundays. She’s been here about a month. She’s fourteen and about as boy-crazy as Ruth.”

      “Is that possible?” Pilar chuckled, having heard stories about Ruth’s antics before.

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