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Anne said, not missing the open speculation shining out of both wrinkled, aged faces before her.
    “If you say so, dear,” Martha Dorn said just a bit too sweetly.
    Anne glanced at the ceiling as though asking for help, or strength, or both. It took every ounce of Tom’s control not to smile.
    He held up his wallet, trying to catch Felix Dorn’s attention.
    “Don’t be silly, Tom,” Dr. Dorn said, waving away the offer. “You know I’m retired. I’m just happy to help out where I can.”
    * * *
    “W OULD YOU DO something for me?” Tom asked Anne as they exited the doctor’s house and headed toward his car.
    The look she flashed him left no doubt about how dangerous it was for him to be even thinking of asking her for a favor at the moment.
    Tom bit his lip to hold back his smile. “I’d just like you to take a look at my shopping list to see if I’ve missed anything.”
    Anne shifted little Tommy to her right side as she glanced at the list Tom held out. “Just diapers and formula? How long will you have Tommy?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Days? Weeks?”
    “Could be. You think I’ll need something else?” Tom asked in his most innocent tone.
    “Well, to start with, baby cream, lotion, blankets... You’d better write this down.”
    Tom slapped his pockets. “Don’t seem to have a pen on me.”
    Anne sent him the lethal look of a judge boring a hole in a defendant’s feeble excuse. Tom smiled at her, hoping to be granted some mercy. It wasn’t working. But Tommy’s muffled little sigh against Anne’s breast softened her expression. The kid had great timing.
    “I’d best come with you,” she said.
    “Whatever you say,” Tom replied as he held open the car door for her.
    * * *
    T OM CARRIED THE crying baby down the narrow aisles of Cooper’s Corner General Store. He’d read once that the Occupational Health and Safety Act protected employees from excessive noise in the workplace. Obviously, OSHA had never recorded the decibels of a wailing baby or every parent would be issued mandatory protective ear wear.
    “Here they are,” Anne called out from a few steps in front of him.
    As Tom watched, Anne picked up every one of the diaper packages to compare their features. He knew it would be a while before she made her selection. She had been just as meticulous with the other items on the shopping list she had carefully prepared. This was not a woman who made careless choices.
    Tommy whacked Tom’s ear with a flailing hand. Tom caught the tiny hand in his and stroked it gently. This business of being a parent was no picnic. It had only been one night and Tom was already done in. It wasn’t from lack of sleep or even the baby’s constant crying. It was from his inability to ease the little boy’s sorrow.
    Giving comfort was a big part of Tom’s job. The knowledge that he was in over his head with this tiny baby was humbling.
    Tom cuddled and rocked and wondered what magic Anne’s arms carried that calmed the baby so quickly. Maybe he should try them and find out for himself.
    Anne finally placed a large package of disposable diapers in their cart and checked it off her list. “Okay, we have the formula, bottles, baby wipes, soap, shampoo, cream, lotion, cotton swabs, blankets, diapers. He arrived in a car seat, so that’s covered. Next is the crib.”
    “No need to spend money on a new crib,” Lori Tubb said as she sidled up to Tom. “I’ve got a perfectly good portable one I use for my grandchildren, and serviceable sheets, as well. I’ll drop them off at the church this afternoon.”
    “Thanks, Lori,” Tom yelled over the baby’s crying as he turned to smile at his parishioner.
    Lori was short and rotund, with a sunny disposition, dark eyes and hair. She and her husband, Burt, were owners of the village’s café and longtime members of the church’s vestry, the body of laypeople who, along with Tom, were responsible for running the Church of the Good Shepherd.
    “May I hold