A Very Special Delivery (3 page)

Where was his van? Had he had an accident? Had he made it to
Chester’s place?

“Ethan.” He was by far the most nearly-frozen human being she’d
ever seen, but she saw no sign of other injuries. “Are you all right? What
happened?”

Stiff lips replied, “Heat exhaustion.”

Molly held back a smile. Interesting man to joke under such
dire conditions.

“I’ll get something hot for you to drink. Stay right here.”

Then she laughed at her own silliness. The man could barely
move. After a quick glance at the baby, Molly hurried into the kitchen and
shoved a cup of instant cocoa into the microwave. While the drink heated, she
turned on the flame beneath the pot of beef stew. Ethan would need some hearty,
hot food, too. Then she could find out what had happened.

At the beep, beep of the microwave, Molly grabbed the thick
brown mug and rushed back to the stranger in her living room. His head lay back
and his eyes were closed, but he opened them the minute she reappeared.

She offered him the steaming, rich-scented cocoa.

With a shake of his head, he spoke through chattering teeth.
“Too shaky. I’ll spill it.”

Perplexed, Molly thought for a moment. He absolutely had to get
warm—and fast. Ethan would be sick if she didn’t get him warmed up soon. If he
fell ill in her house so far from town, she’d be left to care for him and his
infant daughter. And for her peace of mind, she wanted him and his baby out of
here as soon as possible.

What he needed was a good hot bath to chase off the chill, but
the idea of offering such a personal thing to a stranger was out of the
question. The next best alternative was an electric blanket—and she did have
that.

“Will you be okay for a minute?”

“Sure.” His ice-encrusted eyelids fell shut. His red-blue lips
barely moved.

“I’ll get some blankets, but first let’s move you closer to the
fire.”

Grabbing his ice-coated arm, she pulled as he heaved upward.
They stumbled to the chair she’d pulled as close as possible to the blaze. As
Ethan collapsed once more, he muttered, “Laney?”

What a great dad. Even half-frozen, he still worried about his
baby. “She’s asleep.”

Molly gazed down at him for a second, curious to know more
about a man strong enough to risk himself for someone else but tender enough to
care for a tiny baby girl.

He was definitely different than most men she knew.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

In winter the back of the big, rambling house was closed off to
preserve fuel. A trip into the frigid space was always made in haste, so in
minutes, she was back in the living room, loaded with blankets.

Ethan remained inert, but his chest rose and fell in
exhaustion. The ice attached to his hair and clothes had begun to thaw. Small
puddles formed around his feet. Damp spots appeared on his jacket and hat. His
leather gloves dripped onto his pant legs.

“You need to get out of that jacket and hat,” Molly said,
reaching for the stocking cap. It came away, leaving behind a rumpled mess of
brown hair.

Ethan roused enough to struggle with his gloves.

“Your fingers are numb. Let me.” Without considering the
familiarity of such an action, Molly pulled the stiff, wet gloves from his
hands, fretting over the reddened, icy fingers as she reached for the zipper on
his jacket.

At her touch, Ethan’s hand stayed hers. “I got it.”

Suddenly embarrassed and more than a little self-conscious,
Molly whirled toward the pile of blankets. Behind her, she heard the rustle of
his jacket as she plugged in the electric blanket.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t be silly.” Molly draped the blanket around his
shoulders, adding two others for insulation and an old quilt around his legs.
“We’ll have you warmed up in no time.”

“Appreciate it.” His head fell back against the old stuffed
chair that had been her late uncle Ray’s favorite reading spot.

Gradually, Ethan’s shudders subsided and he grew still. Except
for the crackle of burning logs and the constant onslaught of sleet pecking at
the windows, the room was unnervingly quiet.

She wanted to turn on the television, check the weather, but
worried the noise might disturb the baby.

A jolt of fear, as powerful as an electrical shock, ripped
through her.

The baby.

She had been so preoccupied with the near-frozen Ethan that
she’d momentarily forgotten Laney. Was she all right?

Knees going weak, throat dry as talcum powder, Molly was afraid
to look at the makeshift baby bed.

Her breath grew short and her heart rate accelerated as the
beginnings of a panic attack threatened.

Ethan was in no shape to take care of himself, much less a
baby. How could she be so stupid, so incompetent to forget that a baby was in
her care after what had happened to Zack?

“God has not given me the spirit of fear.” Approaching the
couch, mind flashing photos of a dead child, she clasped a hand against her
throat, panting.

A pair of midnight-blue eyes blinked up at her from amidst the
yellow-and-blue bunny blankets.

Molly, limp with relief, melted to the floor beside the sofa.
Laying her forehead against the cushions, she thanked God that little Laney had
suffered no ill effects from her neglect.

She was still there, attention glued to the baby, when Ethan
began to stir. He thrust off all but one blanket and stood up.

“Man, do I feel better.”

As Molly looked up, her heart leaped wildly. He looked better,
too. The UPS driver, scar and all, was a hunk!

“You aren’t shaking anymore.”

“No, but you are.” He frowned down at where she knelt beside
the couch. “And you’re pale. Are you okay?”

Molly pushed up from her spot on the oval rug and ran sweaty
palms down the sides of her sweatpants. “Fine. How about that cup of cocoa
now?”

Anything to avoid the subject of why she was so afraid of a
tiny baby.

“Sounds good.” Weariness emanated from him. If she’d known him
better and the situation had not been so serious, Molly would have teased him
about the hot-pink blanket draped around his broad shoulders—an incongruous
sight if ever there was one.

“How about a bowl of beef stew with that cocoa?”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a nice lady?”

“I take it you haven’t had supper?”

“Coffee and brownies, but they’re long gone.”

“Did you get all the way up to Chester’s?”

He nodded his head. “Yes, thank God.”

“It couldn’t have been easy.”

“No, but my part was a lot easier than Chester’s. He’s one
tough character.”

Still, Molly couldn’t help but admire Ethan’s determination to
help another person under such dire circumstances.

The clock had been ticking and Chester’s life had depended upon
Ethan—and the Lord—to get the medication there on time.

Molly hustled into the kitchen, returning in a matter of
minutes with the hot meal.

Ethan settled on the end of the couch next to Laney and told
Molly about the trip up the mountain, the hours with Chester, and finally about
the truck sliding into a ditch.

“Don’t know how I made it in that light-bodied van.” He shook
his head and corrected himself. “Yes, I do. The Lord.” He dug into the steaming
bowl of soup. “Hot stew sure hits the spot.”

Somehow she’d known Ethan was a Christian, though she’d learned
the hard way that not all Christians were as self-sacrificing.

But Ethan was a man who took responsibility seriously and
didn’t give up easily. She liked that about him.

She liked the way he ate, too, like her dad and uncles,
wholeheartedly as though he might never eat again. His appreciation of a simple
bowl of stew made her smile.

From what little she’d seen, and from the way he cared for his
child, Molly thought she could find a lot of things to like about Ethan
Hunter.

He took a bite of cornbread, chewed and swallowed. “I hate to
ask this of you, but I don’t have a way back to town tonight. You wouldn’t
happen to have a bunkhouse or a barn I could sleep in, would you? Just for
tonight, I mean. If my van was here, I could sleep in that, but…” He lifted one
shoulder in a shrug.

“There’s a barn, but you would freeze out there.”

Practical to the bone, impropriety didn’t concern Molly, but it
would upset Aunt Patsy. She shifted uncomfortably, fretting. Letting a man
freeze to death would be a lot worse than letting him spend the night. “I have
an extra room in back. There’s no heat, but…”

She let her voice trail off, uncertain how to handle the
situation.

“No. It wouldn’t be right for me to impose on you that way. If
you’ll keep Laney inside, I’ll take the barn.”

Molly jumped. Her windpipe tightened.

“No. That’s not a good idea.” Her heart thundered in her chest
as she searched for a solution. No way could she spend an entire night alone
with Laney.

Ethan studied her curiously. “I’m sorry she’s so much
trouble.”

“It’s not that—” How did she explain without admitting the ugly
truth—that she was a danger to his child. She couldn’t, so instead she searched
for a viable solution.

“My uncle Robert keeps his fishing camper here during the
winter months. It’s self-contained and has a small propane heater. It stays cozy
and snug once it’s warmed up. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you used it.”

Ethan seemed relieved. He placed his bowl on the coffee table.
“That will work great. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for this,
Molly.”

He was the hero, risking life and limb to help a sick man. She
was a coward who wouldn’t have done anything at all had he not forced her. She
suddenly felt ashamed.

He drew in a breath and leaned forward, forearms on his thighs,
palms pressed together. “So if you have that camper key, I’ll go check it out,
light the stove and such. Will you watch Laney while I go?”

No! As soon as the thought came, shame followed. If Ethan had
nearly frozen to death to help someone else, surely she could find the courage
to stay in a warm house with his baby for a few more minutes. She swallowed back
the knot of anxiety. She could. She had to.

Pushing out of her chair, Molly went to the bedroom. When she
returned with the camper keys clenched in one hand, Ethan was changing Laney’s
diaper.

She stopped dead in her tracks and watched. Something about a
big, masculine man maneuvering a diaper around the chubby, thrashing legs
created an endearing scene.

Ethan looked up and grinned, and Molly’s heart fluttered oddly.

“She leaks like a sprinkler system.” Deftly, he smoothed the
plastic tabs into place before slipping the tiny legs into the pajamas.

“You’re good at that.”

“Practice.” He lifted the infant in his big hands and laid her
against a wide, blanket-covered shoulder, patting the tiny back with a
tenderness that stirred Molly. One of his hands covered Laney’s entire back.

“She’s beautiful.” Molly swallowed a lump and wished for what
could never be.

“Yeah.”

To break the spell of man and baby, Molly stuck out her hand,
displaying the keys. “The camper is behind the detached garage. The propane
bottle is still hooked up so all you have to do is light the stove. You can take
these blankets with you.”

“Perfect.” He took the keys and rose, bringing Laney up with
him. “Do you mind feeding her?”

Before Molly knew what was about to happen, Ethan placed the
baby in her arms. The soft, warm body cuddled into her and made sucking noises
against the little fist.

Two years. Two long years since she’d held a baby in her
arms.

Molly thought she would collapse on the spot.

Chapter Three

E
than found the camper accommodations more than acceptable and was thankful he hadn’t been forced to sleep in a frigid barn—though he would have slept there rather than spend the night in Molly’s house. After what he’d gone through with Laney’s mother, he would never again put himself in a compromising situation. He didn’t figure the Lord would approve of him putting Molly in such a questionable spot either.

Shining the flashlight around inside the camper, he found the propane stove and lit it. Molly had said the camper was equipped with electrical outlets, but it was too cold and too late to find the breaker box and make the connections. He opted for the camping lantern he found hanging from a peg inside the narrow closet next to the stove. Leaving it lit, he used the blankets to make up the bunk and, satisfied, started back to the house to ask another favor.

Stomping over the ice-packed ground to keep his footing, he came around the side of the house and onto the porch. Through the window, he could see Molly sitting by the fireplace, holding Laney. Firelight played through her barely red hair and cast a halo around her. Her face was pale, sending her spattering of freckles into relief. And though her eyes drooped with fatigue, she kept them trained on the now-sleeping baby.

Giving a soft knock of warning, he turned the knob, found the door unlocked, and stepped in.

Molly looked up, her relieved expression all out of proportion to his short absence. Did she dislike kids that much?

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.” He wiped his feet on the rug and watched with dismay as ice fell from his clothes to the polished wood floor and quickly formed more puddles.

Molly stood and came toward him, moving with careful ease so as not wake Laney. “Who do you think would be out in this storm?”

“Me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not dangerous.”

“How do you know?”

Her soft laugh raised the hairs on his arms. “Because you’re so tired you’re about to fall over.”

As Ethan took his daughter, Molly stretched and rubbed her arms as if they ached. Warmth crept into him that had nothing at all to do with the pleasant fire and comfortable house. “You didn’t have to hold her all that time. Once she’s eaten, she sleeps like the dead.”

Molly’s skin faded to white. Her eyes grew round. “She’s fine. I promise. Nothing happened to her.”

“I can see that,” he said gently. What was that all about? He thought Molly’s behavior was odd but blamed it on fatigue. “I seem to be melting all over your living room again.”

“I can clean the floor in the morning.” She yawned and shook her head. Her shoulders drooped with weariness. “Is the camper going to work out okay?”

“I’m so tired it looks like the Waldorf to me.”

In preparation for the trek out to the camper, Ethan wrapped Laney in a pile of soft blankets. With a whimper, she squirmed and made sucking motions with her mouth.

Both adults stilled, waited for her to settle again, before Ethan continued. “I guess I’ll say goodnight then. And thanks for all you’ve done.”

He had considered asking Molly to keep the baby in the house for the night, but her nervousness around his daughter had changed his mind.

Molly McCreight had done enough.

“If you need anything before morning, just come on in. I’ll leave the back door unlocked.”

Even under the extraordinary circumstances, he was moved and heartened by the trusting gesture. Molly McCreight was a fascinating woman, and somehow he’d find a way to repay her kindness.

* * *

Exhausted as she was, Molly thought she’d fall asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. Instead, she lay awake for hours, listening to sleet rake the window panes and thinking about Ethan Hunter. Tomorrow, somehow, someway, she had to get him away from her house. Not that she didn’t like him. That was the trouble. She not only liked him, she admired a man who would go to such extremes to help someone in need.

But Ethan had a baby and spending those hours tonight with her had taken an incredible toll. Hunger for a child coupled with the fear of losing her clawed at Molly’s tenuous control.

A gust of wind rattled the house, howling. Molly sat up. Was that Laney crying? Would Ethan, tired as he was, hear her if she choked? Would he know if she needed him during the long, cold night?

She shook her head, rueful. She must be crazy to think she could hear Laney. Though the camper was near the house, it was too far and the storm too fierce for her to hear anything.

Fear was a tormenting bedfellow.

Samson stirred from his usual spot at the end of the bed and tramped up to stare at her with yellow, curious eyes as if to say, “Will you let me get some rest here?”

She lifted the cover, inviting him under as a peace offering. “Go on. I’ll be still, I promise.”

As the cat curled, warm and soft, next to her feet, Molly hoped she could keep that promise.

Forcing herself to lie down again, Molly pulled the pillow around her ears and began to pray, blocking out every obsessive thought.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again daylight streamed through the window, glistening painfully bright on the crystal kingdom outside. She heard someone moving around in her house, and the memory of last night came flooding back.

Quickly dressing, she shoved her feet into fuzzy slippers and her hair into a rubber band before hurrying into the kitchen. There she found Ethan warming a baby bottle in her microwave.

Wearing a smile that lit his eyes and accented the interesting scar over his eyebrow, Ethan turned to her. “I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

Stretching, she asked, “What time is it? I thought we’d all sleep half the day.”

“A little after nine.” With a wry grin he nodded at the baby cradled in one elbow. “She shows me no mercy. We’ve been up since six.”

“Six!” She recoiled in mock horror. “That’s obscene.”

He laughed. “I try to tell her that, but she’s a female. Has a mind of her own.” Balancing the bottle with his chin, he said, “I hope you don’t mind that I came inside. I didn’t want to disturb you, but Laney insisted on breakfast.”

“I told you last night to come in if you needed anything.”

He nudged his chin toward the coffeemaker. “I made coffee. Care for a cup?”

With a mock groan, she said, “Ethan, you are my hero.”

She’d made the joke without thinking, but she was right. He was a hero. “You sit down and take care of Laney, I’ll get my own coffee. And once I’m fully conscious I’ll make breakfast.”

Settling onto one of Aunt Patsy’s old chrome-backed chairs with decided grace considering he held a baby with one hand and a bottle in the other, Ethan said, “You don’t need to do that. The coffee is enough.”

She leaned against the butcher-block counter and poured a cup of the fragrant brew. With the first sip, she sighed with pleasure and said, “People have to eat.”

Serious blue eyes captured hers. “How much do I owe you for all this? The food, the babysitting, the hotel room.”

“Don’t insult me with money. People help people. This was the right thing to do.” Placing her mug on the counter with a thud, she opened the refrigerator and removed eggs and milk. The sooner he was fed, the sooner he’d be gone. “Will pancakes do?”

“Pancakes sound awesome.” He lifted the baby onto one shoulder and patted her back.

Milk in one hand, eggs in the other, Molly stared at the sweet picture of father and daughter. Ethan stopped patting, and Molly realized he was watching her, curiosity in his gaze.

She whirled back to the counter, dumped flour and sugar into a bowl, cracked two eggs, and stirred in enough milk to make a nice batter. All the while, she felt Ethan’s eyes boring into her back.

“Have you checked the weather outside yet?” she asked when she could bear the silence no longer.

“The sleet has stopped and the wind isn’t as stiff, but snow started falling right after I got up. Snow will be treacherous on top of this layer of ice.”

“I haven’t seen a storm this bad in several years.”

She set the cast-iron skillet on the stove and in minutes, the sizzle and scent of hot pancakes filled the kitchen.

“I ran into a storm like this a few years ago when I was still flying. Grounded us for nearly twenty-four hours.”

Molly turned, surprised and intrigued. “You’re a pilot?”

“Was. I piloted medi-flight helicopters out of Tulsa.”

She paused, spatula in the air, and frowned in thought. “Are those the medical helicopters that carry emergency patients to big hospitals?”

He tipped his head in agreement. “You know your helicopters.”

“Hey, I watch reality TV, too,” she teased. “You guys are amazing. Did you like it?”

An odd expression came and went on Ethan’s handsome face, but he teased in return. “Reality TV? Or flying?”

It was impossible not to like Ethan Hunter. “Flying, silly.”

“Flying’s the best. I love it.”

“Now I see why the company sent you to deliver Chester’s medication.” Turning to flip the pancakes, she spoke over one shoulder. “If you love flying so much, why did you stop?”

He hitched his chin toward the baby asleep on his shoulder. “Laney. The hours were too erratic for a single dad.”

Though she wanted to know, Molly didn’t think this was a good time to ask about Laney’s mother. From his reaction last night the subject was taboo.

She set a plate of steaming pancakes on the table in front of him and turned back to the stove. “Do you think you’ll ever go back to flying?”

“I don’t know. Laney comes first now. After the Lord, of course.”

He got up, carried the baby into the living room to the makeshift bed on the couch and returned to his pancakes. Molly refilled his coffee cup. Then the hot skillet hissed and sizzled as she poured in more batter.

“Do you live in this area?” She hadn’t seen him around, but she didn’t socialize as much as she once had.

A forkfull of syrupy pancake paused in front of his mouth. “I moved into Winding Stair about a month ago. UPS offered a transfer and a raise if I’d drive the area out of Mena. So I came down here from Tulsa and checked out the housing, the churches and the child care in a couple of the towns around.”

“And Winding Stair filled the bill for all three?” That surprised her, given the housing shortage in the area. Scooping her pancakes onto a plate, she came to sit across the table from him.

“Winding Stair Chapel felt like home the first time I walked into a service. The people there are so friendly. They helped me find a small apartment and introduced me to the lady who owns the daycare.”

A stab of longing sliced through Molly.

Winding Stair Chapel. Her church. Or it had been before Zack’s death.

She gulped a buttery bite of pancake, felt the lump stick in her throat, and washed it down with coffee.

As much as she liked Ethan Hunter, she couldn’t wait for him to leave. His presence—and that of his daughter—stirred up too many painful memories. Once he was gone, she’d never have to think about him or see him again, and that was best for all of them.

A baby’s scream ripped through the house. Molly jumped so hard, she dropped her fork and knocked over the syrup.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ethan righted the syrup and laid a hand over hers. “You’re shaking.”

Ethan’s hand felt much better than she wanted it to. Reluctantly, she drew away. “She startled me.”

“Cry of the banshee. That’s what I call it when she wails like that. The first time I heard her, she scared me silly, but that particular cry usually means she’s wet.”

While Ethan took care of his daughter, Molly cleared the table and filled the sink with hot water. He must think she was crazy the way she behaved around an innocent baby, but there was no way she’d tell him about Zack.

She was down to washing the skillet when, without warning, the lights flickered once, twice and then went out.

“Oh, no.” Although she’d been expecting to lose power, she was still dismayed. She could manage without lights, and the old house had propane heat, but the well pump was electric.

Ethan reappeared in the kitchen, holding Laney. “That’s not good.”

“Not good at all. No power, no water.”

“It would be better if you didn’t stay out here.” He shifted Laney to his shoulder, holding her there with one hand. “Is there someone in town you can stay with?”

“My aunt tried to get me to stay with her yesterday.”

“Great. After driving up that mountain last night, I think I could manage Mount Everest. If you’re agreeable, I’ll drive the three of us into town in your car. The company can send for the van when the roads clear.”

“Sounds like a good plan. My car is in the detached garage next to the camper if you want to warm it up.” The trip on flat ground would prove much easier than the one he’d made last night. “But there will be four of us.”

At his raised eyebrow, she said, “My cat.” If she was holding the cat carrier, she wouldn’t have to hold the baby.

“Right. Gather up the cat and whatever else you need while I go out and start the engine.”

Ethan placed his daughter on the couch again, shoved his feet into his boots, shrugged into his coat, and disappeared out the back door.

Molly’s tension eased as she went into the bedroom to pack. Soon she’d be in Aunt Patsy’s cozy apartment at the Senior Citizens’ Housing Project, sipping raspberry tea and reliving the last twelve hours. The stress of having an infant in her house would be over. Ethan and his tiny reminder of her greatest pain would be gone.

Bag packed and zipped, she carried the suitcase to the back door just as Ethan stomped through it. Cold emanated from him. He did not look happy.

Shivering against the sudden draft of frigid air, Molly reached behind him to push the door closed. “Is something wrong?”

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he pulled the stocking cap from his head. “Bad news. The power line over the garage snapped.”

“No wonder the power is gone. That line feeds the breaker box to the entire house.”

“Worse than that.” He unzipped his coat as if he planned to remove it. “The garage and everything in it is electrified—a death trap until that line is repaired.”