A Very Special Delivery (6 page)

Laney had long since used her last diaper
and Molly had
appropriated soft dish towels and safety pins as replacements. Ethan called her
pioneer woman, but the task of melting and boiling ice, washing the towels and
hanging them to dry in front of the fireplace had grown tiresome in a hurry.

Elbows on the tabletop, she sipped at her coffee, savoring the
strong, hearty brew. Thanks to the supplies she’d bought when the storm was
first predicted neither she nor Ethan had wanted for food. But now the most
fragile member of their party was running short of formula.

“It’s still so cold out there, Ethan.”

“Yeah. But I’ll be fine as long as I know you girls are safe
and snug here.” He rubbed at the scar over his eye, a reminder of how stark and
white it had looked that first night when he’d almost frozen. She didn’t want
that to happen again. “Before I take off, I’ll bring in another stack of
firewood.”

Molly pushed aside her empty plate, took one last sip of coffee
and stood. “I’ll do it. I think there may be another lamp in the cellar. I want
to bring that up.”

The candles and kerosene were running precariously low and if
by some chance she was forced to be alone with Laney after dark, she needed
light more than ever.

Before Ethan could insist on going in her place, she threw on a
coat and gloves and hurried outside.

Chin tucked into the fleece-lined parka, Molly scooted through
the teeth-aching weather to Aunt Patsy’s storm cellar. At least here, on the
south side of the house, the wind was blocked.

Ice crusts sealed the heavy cellar door. After several minutes
of stomping and pounding, they gave way and Molly entered the dim shelter.

At the top of the steps, she shoved aside an old spider web
with the elbow of her jacket and hoped a black widow wasn’t waiting to seek
revenge for the destruction of her home. Inside the cellar proper, she felt
along the wall until her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Winter or summer the old concrete storm shelter smelled the
same—like a mixture of gym socks and pickle juice. She wrinkled her nose against
the smell.

“There you are.” On a shelf lining the far wall sat a
green-globed hurricane lamp along with a collection of empty fruit jars, a blue
speckled canner, and a pair of dry and withered gardening gloves. An ax and a
shovel stood in one corner next to the folding camp chairs and a moldy tent.

She knew people who hated the inside of a storm shelter, but
she’d never been one of them. She didn’t love the close underground confines,
but she wasn’t afraid either. There was only one thing that truly frightened
Molly McCreight. One irrational fear that controlled her life. And she’d give
anything to have a phobia for cellars or crawly creatures, instead of tiny,
beautiful babies.

She lifted the lamp down, gave it a gentle shake, and heard
with satisfaction the slosh of much-needed kerosene. This was enough to keep her
and Laney illuminated until Ethan returned.

As she started to leave Molly realized that Ethan would need
the shovel. She took it from the corner and started back up the narrow, sloping
stairs.

She was four steps up when the shovel caught
on the
door’s tie-down chain and tipped sideways, knocking the lantern globe askew.
Hands full, Molly tried to catch the teetering globe with her shoulder, lost her
balance, and stumbled on the falling shovel.

The shovel clattered, the globe shattered and the base of the
lamp flew out of her hands. Molly thrust both arms in front her…and crashed down
onto the concrete steps and broken glass.

Molly lay prostrate for several stunned seconds. Her hands,
knees and shins smarted from contact with the concrete. Her head spun and her
stomach churned from the strong odor of lantern fuel spilled all around her. The
kerosene’s wetness seeped through her sweat pants.

Anxious for fresh air, she pushed off the steps and rushed out
of the cellar.

“So much for stocking up on kerosene,” she muttered and started
back to the house, her errand a failure.

A throbbing pain in her leg was the first warning that more
than her pride was wounded. The bright red blood dripping from her lower leg
onto the white ground was the second.

She looked behind her, saw the trail and knew she was in
trouble. Between the reek of fuel and the sight of her own blood, she grew
woozy.

If only she had a towel or something to staunch the flow.

Once on the porch, she stopped to have a look. A gaping slash
cut through her sweats and ran from the side of her calf to above her knee.
Several other smaller tears in the pants oozed blood as well.

This was not good. Not good at all.

She pressed her gloved hand against the tide.

Music filtered from inside the house.

“Ethan!” she called, hoping he could hear over the radio.

Immediately, the door opened behind her.

“Need some help with that wood…?” His voice trailed off when
she twisted toward him.

“Molly!”

She tried to smile and failed miserably. All the nerve endings
running from her calf to her brain had come to vivid life. “I cut my leg.”

He dropped down beside her. “Let me see.”

“You’ll get all bloody.”

He grunted an impatient, completely male dismissal and pushed
her hands aside. She stared in surprise at her blood-soaked gloves while Ethan
ripped the torn sweats up to the knee in order to assess the damage.

“Put your hands right here,” he said, guiding her to press hard
on the wound. “Looks like you’ve hit a bleeder.”

“No kidding,” she murmured, stunned at how the blood kept
coming.

“We need to get you inside where I can have a better look.”

With no further warning, he scooped her up as if she weighed no
more than Laney, kicked the door open, and carried her into the kitchen where he
lowered her into a straight-backed chair.

From a drawer, Ethan pulled a handful of towels and fell to his
knees before her.

Her clothes stank of kerosene and her head reeled from the
smell.

“I stink,” she said, embarrassed both by the smell and the
attention.

As if she were a troublesome child, he shot her a silencing
glance and then went to work. His expert fingers probed and pushed at the torn
flesh.

“This needs sutures,” he muttered, his mouth a grim, flat line.
“A lot of them.”

“Got any on you?” Molly joked, gazing down at the top of his
head where she noted, with unusual interest, the way his brown hair grew in a
crooked whorl at the crown. The idea that he’d battled a powerful cowlick as a
boy made her smile. He’d probably looked adorable.

Busy securing a pressure bandage over the wound, Ethan didn’t
answer her silly question.

When he finished, Molly tried to stand but was quickly pressed
back into the chair. “Stay still. I have the bleeding under control for now, but
moving around will exacerbate it.”

“My floor—”

He reached for her wrist, felt her pulse. “I’ll clean it up.”

She favored him with what she considered a coquettish smile.
“You’re pretty handy, you know that, Mr. Delivery Man?”

A pair of serious blue eyes assessed her. “You’re not getting
shocky on me, are you?”

Good question. Maybe she was. “My head hurts and I feel a
little woozy. I think it’s the kerosene on my clothes.”

He stepped back. “Better change. Just go very easy on that leg.
I’d like the bleeding to be completely stopped before I leave.”

“Leave?” She had to focus to remember. Where was it he was
going?

He rubbed at the scar, brow wrinkling in concern. “To dig out
the van. Remember? The sooner I do that, the quicker we can get you to a
doctor.”

Oh, yeah. She’d forgotten. Maybe she
was
a little shocky.

Holding to the cabinets, she made her way toward the hall
connecting the kitchen with the back of the house. The fat bandage of towels and
masking tape made the cut throb more. Wavy lines, whether from fumes or
dizziness, appeared before her eyes.

At the doorway, she paused, turning to find Ethan, hands on his
thighs, watching her every move.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“Because I’m so much trouble.”

His familiar grin replaced the worried frown. “I’ll say you
are. First, you try to knock me off the roof, and now you go out and cut
yourself just so you can force me out into the cold. I’m starting to wonder if
you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Well, he was certainly right about that.

But he was also completely wrong.

Chapter Six

T
ired as he was, Ethan’s energy resurged as
he eased the van over the frozen earth and right up to Molly’s front porch. He’d
done it. Armed with a shovel and two bags of kitty litter, courtesy of Molly’s
cat, he’d dug and pushed and levered until the truck spun its way up out of the
ditch. Even in the bitter breeze, he’d grown warm from exertion. Thankfully, the
ice had done the same, melting enough from the heat of the tires to set the van
free.

All the time he’d worked he had also prayed, thinking of Molly
and the vicious laceration she’d sustained. Although he’d tried to downplay the
seriousness so she wouldn’t worry, the wound needed to be seen by a doctor
today. It was deep, down to the fascia, and he’d been afraid to probe too deeply
for stray glass and the severed blood vessels. Without equipment, there was
little he could do about either.

In her condition, he hadn’t wanted to burden her with Laney,
but again he’d had little choice. His baby needed formula and Molly needed a
doctor. Providing both was his responsibility.

He hoped they’d done all right.

Rapping softly on the front door as a warning, he let himself
inside the farmhouse and breathed in the welcome warmth. He liked this house and
everything in it, including the owner. Seeing her hurt bothered him a lot.

Right away he spotted his girls in the big blue easy chair.
Neither stirred, and with a tired grin, he saw that they both slept.

He paused, recognizing the danger in thinking of Molly as his
in any way. Since that day on the roof when he’d fought back the urge to kiss
her, he had been forced to recognize a growing affection for his hostess. With
his past, he had no right to think of her at all, but he couldn’t help it. She
occupied his thoughts constantly.

Perhaps it was the situation, being iced in together as though
they were the only living beings around. He owed her so much. Maybe his feelings
were nothing except gratitude. Since thinking that was the safer road, he took
it.

Stepping around in front of the chair, he gazed down at the
sleeping pair. Even though her eyes were closed, Molly cradled his daughter
securely against her, protectively, almost lovingly.

They looked for all the world like mother and child.

Sadness pinched at him. Thanks to his and Twila’s foolish
mistakes, Laney would never know this kind of nurturing from a mother. He would
be the one to rock and sing to her and to comfort her when the bumps of life
came along. He hoped he was enough.

His heart ached with love for the little girl who had changed
his life. He would do anything to make up to her for all she wouldn’t have.

His gaze drifted to Molly and the bandaged leg. She’d kept the
foot up as he’d instructed, but upon closer inspection he saw signs that, while
the bleeding had slowed, it had not ceased. All the more reason to stop
ruminating and get her into town.

“Molly,” he said softly.

Her body jerked and her eyes flew open. She sat bolt upright,
Laney gripped against her body.

“Oh, no! I fell asleep.”

Her lip quivered and her hands shook in what Ethan thought was
a gross overreaction. He took the now-squirming baby from her trembling
arms.

“Is she all right?” Molly’s voice was frantic.

“Hey, calm down. She’s fine.” Laney cradled against his
shoulder, he crouched down beside the chair. “You’re the one with the
injury.”

“Oh, Ethan.” She dropped her face into her hands. “Anything
could have had happened. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Nothing happened, Molly. She’s okay.” He patted her back as he
would have Laney, offering comfort for some terror he didn’t understand. “I’m
sorry she’s so much trouble.”

“She’s not. She’s wonderful. It’s just that…” She bit down hard
on her bottom lip.

“It’s what? Talk to me, Molly. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m not…good with babies.”

He frowned, baffled. She was great with Laney. “What makes you
think that?”

“I just do. That’s all.”

In other words, she didn’t want to tell him. And the notion
bugged him. How could he fix what he didn’t understand?

With a sigh, he levered up and went to pack Laney’s diaper bag.

Someday he hoped Molly would trust him enough to tell the
truth—whatever that might be.

* * *

“Ethan, relax. They’ll be in here as soon as they
can.”

Molly, who sat on the end of an exam table in Winding Stair
Hospital’s emergency room, didn’t know whether to be embarrassed, amused or
touched. Ethan paced back and forth between the doorway of the ER and her side.
At regular intervals, he disappeared down the hall to the reception desk to make
a general nuisance of himself. Meanwhile, Laney slept like a rock in her
carrier.

“I don’t know what’s keeping the doc.” Ethan paused before a
diagram of the ear, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. “Maybe I
should go check.”

Before Molly could argue that he’d already done that a dozen
times, he wheeled on his heel and stalked out the door. She stifled a laugh. No
one ever fussed over her.

He’d no more than left when a nurse entered. Molly knew most
people in Winding Stair, but this woman was unfamiliar. “That husband of yours
is sure worried about you.”

Husband? Is that what they thought? “He’s not my husband.”

“Well, if he’s your boyfriend, you better grab on to him.
Fellas with those looks and that sweet, concerned nature don’t come along every
day.”

“We’re just friends.” She hoped they were that, given the time
they’d spent together.

The nurse rolled her eyes and reached for a blood pressure cuff
to wrap around Molly’s upper arm. “Believe that if you will, but I don’t think
your guy feels that way.” She pumped the machine and while waiting for the
reading asked, “Running any temp with this?”

“It only happened this morning.”

The nurse made a notation on a clipboard and poked a digital
thermometer in Molly’s ear. “What did you do? Fall on the ice?”

“Something like that.” She told the story.

“We’ve seen tons of ice-related injuries since this storm hit.
Broken wrists, hips, you name it. When was your last tetanus shot?”

“Forever. I never get hurt.”

“We’ll have to take care of that.”

Ethan came strolling back in, looking pleased. “Doc’s on his
way.”

“Good. Now, maybe you’ll sit down and relax.”

He offered an unrepentant grin, wheeled the doctor’s exam stool
away from the wall and perched on it. “Believe I will.”

After her ridiculous reaction to falling asleep with Laney in
her lap, she had expected Ethan to dump her at the hospital door and run.
Instead, he had hovered as if her well-being was the most important thing in the
world. He’d even badgered the nurses into bringing her a cup of coffee because
he thought she was cold.

“You sure you don’t want me to call your family?” He tilted
forward, his strong fingers curled over the edge of the brown vinyl seat.

She shook her head, careful not to splash the warm coffee.
“Aunt Patsy is too old to get out on this ice. A fall would be disastrous.”

“Isn’t there anyone else?”

“Uncle Robert lives in Oklahoma City. The rest wouldn’t care.”

The chair rollers clattered against pristine tile as he drew
closer. “Sure they would. Families always care. Let me give them a call.”

Her chest ached at the reminder of how lonely she’d been for
family since Zack’s death. But neither Mom nor Chloe would come. Mom wanted to
keep the peace and Chloe—well, her sister hated her.

It occurred to her then that Ethan must be longing to take his
baby and go home, a perfectly natural desire after five days of confinement with
a stranger. But out of kindness and an overblown sense of responsibility, he
didn’t want to leave her alone.

“You don’t have to wait with me any longer, Ethan. I know you
have other things to do.”

“Molly.” He took the foam cup from her hand, set it aside, and
then wrapped her fingers in his. With the most patient expression, he said,
“I’ve made my phone calls. My job and friends know where I am now, and this
won’t take that much longer. After all you’ve done for Laney and me wild horses
couldn’t tear us away from here. I only asked because I thought you might want a
family member instead of a virtual stranger.”

To Molly, Ethan was no longer a stranger. Not even close. The
admission sent a troublesome warning to her brain.

Just then the door swooshed open and a doctor entered, white
lab coat flapping out at the sides. Another nurse, clad in green surgical
scrubs, followed. Molly recognized her as the doctor’s long-time assistant and
smiled a greeting.

Ethan squeezed Molly’s hand, then pushed off the stool to greet
the newcomers. “Dr. Jamison.”

“Ethan, good to see you. How’s the class going?”

“Good. I’m learning a lot.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. The people here in Winding Stair have
been really good to me.”

“The way I hear it, it’s the other way around.”

Molly wondered what the doctor meant by the remark, but before
she could ask, he ended the pleasantries and turned his attention her way. “So,
what have you done to yourself, Miss Molly?”

Dr. Jamison was the last of a dying breed, a family doctor who
knew most of his patients personally. He was not only her physician, he was the
McCreight family’s doctor, and thus he knew the whole ugly story of Zack’s
death.

She held her breath, praying he wouldn’t say anything in front
of Ethan.

The graying doctor pushed up his glasses and bent to examine
her injury. “Quite a bandage you have here.”

The tension eased out of her. “That’s Ethan’s doing. He’s a
paramedic.”

Dr. Jamison raised his eyes toward her companion, curious. “I
remember someone telling me that. The lab, I think. Didn’t you take the gamma up
to Chester Stubbs?”

Nothing much happened in Winding Stair without the whole town
knowing.

“Yeah, that was me. Did the chopper make it out there?”

“No trouble at all. They flew the Stubbses to Tulsa to ride
this thing out. Now, what can you tell me about Molly’s accident?”

“She has some loose bleeders,” Ethan answered. “I couldn’t
ascertain their origin, so in lieu of proper supplies, we did the best we could
to put pressure on it. The laceration’s deep and at least ten centimeters from
knee to calf.” He spewed out a technical description of the cut, all the while
hovering over the table, watching as Dr. Jamison removed the kitchen-towel
bandage.

“Hmm. I see what you mean.” The wound began to ooze
immediately. “We’ll have to probe a bit, check for glass or other debris while
we seal off those seeping vessels.”

Ethan moved up to Molly’s side. His face was kind, sympathetic,
almost tender.

“It’s easier if you don’t look.”

“You think I’m a coward?” she teased.

But Ethan took the question seriously. “I think you’re as brave
as they come.”

He eased a pillow beneath her head and helped her lean back.
All the while, her insides jumped and quivered. Ethan thought she, the biggest
coward on the planet, a woman who suffered from anxiety attacks, was brave?

He didn’t know her at all.

As the liquid fire of the deadening agent entered Molly’s
already insulted flesh, Ethan took her hand. “Squeeze if you need to. This
stings a little.”

She hissed though her teeth, trying hard not to give in to the
pain. He’d called her brave. And even though she knew it wasn’t true, she didn’t
want Ethan to know.

“The worst will be over in a minute,” Ethan encouraged. “And
afterwards, we’ll see if the van can ice skate over to the Rib Crib for dinner.
What do you say?”

She concentrated on his words in an effort to blot out the
burning anesthetic. “What about Laney’s formula?”

“We’ll stop by the store first, grab some supplies.” He frowned
as if in deep thought. “On second thought, let’s grab some steaks and take them
over to my place. I’ll make us dinner.”

“I don’t know,” she hedged. Saying goodbye was already going to
be harder than she wanted it to be.

“What?” He asked in mock offense, eyes crinkling in humor. “You
don’t think I can grill steaks? Why, I’ll have you know, Miss Molly McCreight,
people come from miles around, from other states, even from outer space to
sample my steaks.”

She laughed. “Are you trying to feed me or distract me?”

“Both. Is it working?”

“Yeah,” she said. “And you’re really sweet for making the
effort.”

He winked down at her, the long scar wrinkling with the
movement. “That’s me. A sweet guy.”

And she realized it was true. Ethan Hunter was a very nice man,
kind and brave and thoughtful. He was everything a girl could want.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Ethan carefully pulled the van out
of the hospital parking lot. Laney kicked and cooed from her carrier in back,
and Molly’s cat mewed impatiently from his cage on the floorboard.

Though Ethan was tired to the bone, the idea of an impromptu
steak dinner with Molly energized him. He didn’t know why. They’d had every meal
together for days, but for some reason, he wanted to be the host, to spend time
with her on his turf.

“So,” he asked, careful to keep his attention on the slick
streets. “You still up for my fabulous cooking?”

“Ethan,” she started and then paused to stare out the
windshield. Pale, her mouth drooped in exhaustion.

With a sinking feeling Ethan realized he was about to be turned
down. To spare them both, he said, “You’re worn out. You need to rest.”

She touched his sleeve. “Thanks for understanding.”

“No problem.” But he realized her refusal was a problem. He
didn’t want to leave her with someone else. Who would look after that wound? Who
would make sure she didn’t get an infection? “Maybe another time.”