A Very Special Delivery (14 page)

She realized now that the whispers and exclusion had mostly been in her mind, a part of her own guilt and self-punishment. She just hadn’t been able to recognize the truth until now. If only the rift with Chloe was imaginary, everything would be great. But it wasn’t. Tonight had helped, but her sister still hated her.

As if he read her thoughts, Ethan pulled her into his arms and said, “The situation with Chloe will improve. We have to keep praying, keep believing and keep being brave.”

“I’m not all that brave.”

“Sure you are. You were dynamite tonight. I was so proud of you.”

“Really? I was proud of you, too.” She’d felt more than pride. She’d felt special when his eyes had found hers during the game and they’d exchange smiles or she’d lift Laney’s hand in a wave.

“See? We’re great together. A regular team. You and me and Laney.”

A team. She liked the sound of that.

“Molly,” he started, then tipped his head back and stared at the truck’s dark ceiling.

She touched his cheek, drew his face back down so that their eyes met in the faint light. “What?”

He smoothed her hair back, then bracketed her face with both hands. The look in his eyes sent adrenaline swirling into her bloodstream.

“Maybe it’s too soon to say this. Maybe I should never say this at all, considering my checkered past.” He closed in so that his face was inches from hers. When he spoke, the words were but a breath of warmth against her lips. “I love you, Molly.”

Her heart lurched, banging against her rib cage.

“Oh, Ethan.” She touched his beloved cheek with the tips of her fingers.

In the next heartbeat, his mouth closed over hers in a kiss so full of sweet emotion that Molly wanted to cry. She loved him, too. Had loved him for a long time.

He was good for her in so many ways. Too good perhaps. And she wanted desperately to make him happy, to make up for the wrong Twila had done to him and Laney.

Laney.

The thought of the child stopped her cold.

How could Ethan even consider falling in love with someone like her? Wouldn’t he always wonder in the back of his mind if Laney was safe? Wouldn’t she?

When the kiss ended, his forehead tilted against hers. “I know I’m no prize, and I have baggage that some women wouldn’t want to deal with—”

“Laney’s not baggage. She’s a treasure.” The very reason why his declaration scared her so much.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “She’s
my
treasure. I want her to be yours, too.”

She already was, but for Laney’s sake, Molly couldn’t say so. All the “what ifs” had begun to roll around inside her head again. What if she had a panic attack? What if something happened to Laney while she was in Molly’s care? Would Ethan still love her then?

Her hesitation wasn’t lost on Ethan. He backed off a little and asked, “Are you afraid you can’t love another woman’s child? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No. Ethan, don’t think that. Don’t ever think that. I love that baby with all my heart.” Almost as if she was the woman who had given birth to Laney.

“Then what is it? Is it me? Is it because of the things I did before?”

“None of that. You’re a wonderful man. The problem isn’t you. It’s me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and admitted, “I’m afraid of failing you.”

He gripped both of her hands in his. “Are you still worried that something will happen to Laney, and it will be your fault? Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes,” she whispered, head down, embarrassed but relieved as well to admit the fear.

“Molly, sweetheart, no one can predict the future. But one thing I know. You would protect my baby girl with your life.” He tapped her chin with a knuckle, lifting it. “Wouldn’t you?”

“If I could.”

“Then forget about everything else for a minute and answer me this. Do you care for me? I think you do, but I need you to say it.”

“You know I do,” she whispered. “Very much.”

“Ah, Molly. You make me so happy.” He kissed her again and, for a moment, her worries melted away in the warmth of his embrace.

“Remember the scripture Pastor Cliff read tonight?” he asked, eyes shining in the darkness.

Of course she remembered. She’d felt as though Cliff had picked that verse especially for her. “There is now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus…Old things are passed away and all things are new.”

Happiness bloomed inside Molly. Ethan was right. She couldn’t go back, but she could move forward. She’d taken the first step by renewing her church friendships, and, as a result some of her pain and guilt had disappeared. Best of all, she hadn’t had a panic attack in months, a sign that they were gone for good.

Overjoyed and filled with love for this man who’d given her hope, she threw herself into his arms. When he laughed with joy, she laughed with him.

Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

Chapter Twelve

R
ain threatened all night before the Easter sunrise service. About an hour before dawn, to the relief of several hundred people, the clouds cleared.

As they had each year for longer than anyone could remember, every church in town had come together in a cooperative effort to present the pageant. Ethan and all the other actors and musicians had practiced for weeks. The play, which had begun last night with the story of the crucifixion, would conclude this morning with the resurrection. Cars, people, lawn chairs and blankets speckled the darkened hillside outside Winding Stair where the dramatic retelling would occur.

Since the basketball game and Ethan’s beautiful declaration of love, they had attended two church services together. Today was the third. Returning to her family’s church was the scariest, most wonderful thing she’d done in ages, but if she and Ethan were to have any hope of a future together, getting her spiritual life on track had to come first.

When she had fretted about her sister’s possible reaction to her return, Ethan, bless him, had talked to James on the telephone. Chloe had been told and the choice to attend church or not would be hers.

Sadly, her sister had chosen to stay away. The idea hurt, as Chloe’s rejection always did, but Molly stiffened her resolve and attended anyway. She loved her sister and would try until her dying day to reconcile, but she refused to be a party to Chloe’s bitterness any longer.

Molly scanned this morning’s crowd for a glimpse of her sister or mother and came up empty. The gathering was large enough to hide in, though, so perhaps Chloe had ventured out. Molly hoped so. The beauty of a sunrise service was good for the soul.

“Your baby is darling,” a woman murmured as Molly opened her lawn chair and settled into it with Laney on her lap.

“She’s not my—” She started to explain and then changed her mind. Why bother? Laney belonged to her heart and that was what counted. “Thank you,” she said instead.

Aunt Patsy, who had ridden to the service with Molly and Ethan, set her lawn chair on the opposite side. Holding on to the plastic arms for support, she eased down. Molly knew her great-aunt’s knees bothered her something fierce, but she would never complain.

She leaned toward Molly and whispered, “Laney looks precious in that outfit you bought.”

Molly had spent hours on the Internet searching for the perfect Easter dress for Ethan’s baby. She’d finally found the pink-and-white confection complete with lacy bonnet, white tights and patent-leather shoes. The price had been shocking, but Ethan’s reaction had been worth the cost and effort. He’d thanked her with so many kisses, she’d blushed.

A disembodied voice, sounding much like Pastor Cliff’s, opened the service, and a holy hush settled over the crowd. In the gray dawn, Molly watched with rapt attention as a hill outside of Winding Stair, Oklahoma, was transformed into ancient Jerusalem. Against the lighted backdrop of three wooden crosses and a cave-like tomb, ministers gave readings, and a chorus of voices swelled in song.

At exactly the right moment, when the mother of Jesus approached the tomb weeping, sunlight broke over the horizon in beams so radiant that some folks later said that God Himself smiled on the day. The stone rolled away from the tomb and the choir began to sing “He Is Risen” with such power and passion that goose bumps prickled Molly’s arms.

She pondered the symbolism of Jesus as the sacrificial Lamb who came that mankind might be reunited with a Holy God, of the new beginnings made possible by His life and death and resurrection, of all the fresh possibilities embodied in Easter.

She thought of her own new beginnings, too, and a wonderful peace enfolded her. As the light of the new day spread across the land and the service concluded in glorious song, Molly felt as though she, too, had come out of a dark place and into a marvelous light.

She hugged Laney to her chest and closed her eyes in gratitude.

As the quiet crowd slowly broke up, going separate ways to contemplate the holiness of Easter Sunday, Ethan, in his long governor’s robes, joined her.

He hunkered down in front of her chair and took Laney into his arms. The baby’s ruffles and lace made crinkling noises as he rubbed his nose against her neck.

“What did you think? Did it look all right from out here?” The eagerness in him was boyish and charming.

“Ethan, it was awesome. You were awesome. I’ve never been to such a beautiful pageant.”

“Neither have I,” he said, grinning. “But then, this is my first and only Easter pageant.”

Aunt Patsy reached over and patted his arm. “Well, it won’t be your last. You made a formidable Pontius Pilate.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Patsy.” He bowed his head in mock humility. Laney grabbed one ear and twisted. With a yelp, Ethan unwound the tiny fingers. “Are you girls as hungry as I am?”

Molly rose and folded her lawn chair, then took Laney from Ethan while he assisted Aunt Patsy. “Probably not, but coffee sounds good.”

“The church has coffee and rolls waiting. That should hold us until ten.”

Although they were not technically a couple, they had promised Lindsey and Jesse to eat brunch with the young couples’ class at ten. Later in the afternoon, the church was hosting a giant Easter-egg hunt for all the kids. Aunt Patsy and her group of friends had spent hours stuffing plastic eggs for the event.

“It’s going to be a busy day.”

“But a good one.”

“We’ve got to get some pictures of that baby in her finery,” Aunt Patsy said as they walked toward the parking area. “She’ll only have one first Easter.”

Ethan stopped in his tracks and turned to face the hillside, now washed in bright sunlight. “I just thought of something. This is my first Easter, too. The first one that ever meant anything.”

Molly understood his awe. Even though she had been a Christian for a long time, today felt like a renewal to her, too.

Smiling up at him, she hooked her arm through his. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah.” His gaze shifted to Laney, lying across Molly’s shoulder. “You want me to carry her?”

“No. We’re fine.” And they were, just as they had been for sometime now. She could hold Laney and love her without a racing pulse or the awful tightness in her chest and throat. She’d almost stopped worrying that something terrible would happen.

She hugged the bundle of ruffles and lace a little closer.

When they reached the parking area other members of the cast milled about. The rise and fall of voices mingled with engines cranking and doors slamming. A man in Roman centurion gear called out and Ethan drifted off to speak with him.

Molly unlocked the car and bent to fasten Laney in her car seat. When she straightened, Aunt Patsy stood on the opposite side of the vehicle in conversation with an older woman Molly recognized from their church.

“I don’t really think that’s any of your concern, Hazel,” she heard Aunt Patsy say.

“It’s not right, I tell you, Patsy. That boy has
his nerve dating a decent girl like Molly. He never did marry that baby’s mother, you know.” She announced the fact in a low, gossipy tone as if she hoped it was news to her listener.

“I know.” Aunt Patsy’s rosy cheeks grew redder, a sign, Molly knew, that she was getting angry. “I know about a lot of other things, too, that you apparently have forgotten. Things like Christian charity and forgiveness.”

“Oh forevermore, Patsy.” Hazel drew herself up in a straight line. “I would think as her aunt, you would be more concerned about that niece of yours. She’s had enough trouble without getting involved with a philanderer who goes around making illegitimate babies.”

“It’s Easter, Hazel. I suggest you think about what that means and let the Lord worry about Ethan and Molly.” Aunt Patsy turned her back on the woman, opened the car door and got in, slamming it a little harder than necessary.

As Hazel stalked away, gait stiff and insulted, Molly noticed what she’d missed during the confrontation. Ethan. Standing at the back of the car, expression stricken.

Molly’s stomach hurt and her knees trembled for him. She was angry at the woman but ached for Ethan.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, going to him. “She shouldn’t have said that.”

His jaw flexed. “I’m okay. I’ve heard worse.”

He had? “What she said was cruel and wrong. She hurt your feelings.”

He jerked one shoulder. “I have thick skin.”

Not all that thick. She could see he was disturbed. Words wounded, even when they were untrue and the recipient didn’t deserve them.

“Come on,” Ethan said with false joviality, tugging on her hand. “I’m starving.”

Molly tiptoed up on her new spring shoes to kiss his cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered against his freshly shaved skin. No matter what anyone else thought
of him or of his former life, Ethan Hunter was a
good man.

Ethan rubbed his cheek, his eyebrows arching high. Mischief replaced the hurt in his eyes. “Maybe being gossiped about is not so bad after all.”

“And then again, maybe it is. But there isn’t a thing you can do about it anyway.”

“Except to win her over with my devastating charm.”

Gesturing to his robes, Molly teased, “You’re Pontius Pilate. You could have her executed.”

“No,” he said. “Banished. No Easter-egg hunt for her. No chocolate bunnies. No marshmallow eggs.”

Molly pressed a hand to her heart in pretend horror. “Cruel and unusual punishment. You are a wicked ruler indeed.”

They both laughed and climbed inside the car, letting the banter soften the sting of the woman’s cruel comments. At least for now.

* * *

By six o’clock that evening, Molly had eaten more chocolate bunnies and marshmallow eggs than she could count. She had also, along with Ethan, participated in an adult egg hunt at the Slater Farm that had been more fun than she thought possible. Who would believe grown men would tackle one another in pursuit of a plastic, candy-filled egg?

Now, as she plopped down on the couch in Ethan’s apartment and kicked off her shoes, she said, “Wasn’t this a great day?”

She leaned back and ran both hands through her messy hair, tired but content.

Ethan stood in the adjoining kitchenette, staring into the refrigerator. When he looked up and smiled, Molly’s heart did a happy dance.

“Aren’t you glad you went?”

“Mmm. Very glad. What are you doing in there?”

“Making the queen a bottle. She’ll wake up howling any minute.”

“After the day she’s had, being passed from person to person and played with by every kid in town, I thought she might sleep all night.”

“She will after she eats.” He added cereal to the bottle and gave it a shake. “There she goes.”

Sure enough, a restless whimper turned to a loud howl. Ethan plunked the bottle onto the coffee table, trotted to the small nursery and returned with a squirming, squawling baby.

“Let me have her,” Molly said, holding up her arms. “I’ll feed her.”

Something she’d never thought possible had happened. She wanted to hold and feed a baby. For once, the fear only flitted across her mind and disappeared.

Ethan’s smile lit the living room. He tossed the burp towel over her shoulder, lowered Laney into her arms, and handed her the bottle. The baby’s pudgy hands batted at her dinner, trying to pull it into her mouth.

“Hold on, Miss Greedy.” Molly slid the nipple between the bow lips.

“There you go,” she crooned. “There you go.”

Ethan stood before them, smiling down. “You two look all cozy.”

“We are.” She kissed Laney’s forehead. “Aren’t we, sweetie pie?”

Laney’s answer came in contented slurps and grunts.

“I’m gonna run out to the truck for a minute,” Ethan said. “To get that CD Jesse loaned me. Be right back, okay?”

Molly tensed. It had been a while since she’d been alone with Laney, but she loved Ethan and if they were to have any future together, she had to take care of his baby—alone. The attacks were gone. She needed to act as though they were.

“Sure. Go ahead. I wanted to listen to it, too.”

He bent forward to kiss her hair. The pleasant mingle of aftershave and chocolatey marshmallow made her smile.

As he slipped out into the darkness, Molly rocked back and forth and hummed a lullaby. Laney’s blue eyes stared wide and intent.

Without warning, the tiny face mottled. Laney coughed, sputtering cereal-laced formula onto Molly’s hands.

Molly jerked the bottle from the baby’s mouth and sat her upright, patting her back. Laney coughed and struggled, pushing air out but never inhaling.

Molly’s pulse clattered into her throat. Laney was choking. Strangling.

“Ethan,” she screamed. “Ethan, help!”

She flipped the baby over and dangled her across her knees. With the heel of one hand, she applied a not-so-gentle rap to the center of Laney’s back.

Laney coughed again and then began to cry. Loud, wailing cries rent the apartment.

Ethan’s footsteps thundered from outside. The door slammed open on its hinges. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

He rushed to her side, jerking Laney upright.

“She choked. She choked.” Molly’s voice shook with fear.

Ethan made a quick examination of the baby. “She’s okay now.”

But Molly wasn’t.

What if she hadn’t been able to stop the choking? What if Laney had died? What if…

Her chest tightened and her hands began to tremble.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Not the panic. Not now. Not in front of Ethan.

The tingling crept into her fingers like millions of crawling ants. Fear, terrible and consuming, gripped her.

“Molly?” He frowned, concerned. “Laney’s okay. Calm down.”

She shook her head at him, humiliated, terrified. It was happening and Ethan would see. He would know her shame, her weakness.

She jumped up and rushed out of the room. She’d no more than reached the back bedroom when a tidal wave of panic closed in. Her heart thundered faster and faster. Sweat beaded her face, her hands and knees trembled as violently as an earthquake. Her throat closed tighter and tighter.

What if another baby had died in her care?