A Very Special Delivery (8 page)

“Never. The way Chloe treated you is terrible and I’ve told her
and your mother so a hundred times. If your daddy was still alive, he’d put a
stop to that nonsense. But I’m not thinking of them. I’m thinking of you. You
need a life. For two years I’ve watched you spin your wheels, going nowhere.
You’re stuck on that terrible day, hiding out with us old people, hiding on the
farm, hiding from life.”

“I’m not hiding.” Not in the way Patsy meant. Her presence
upset her sister. And as the person responsible for Chloe’s heartache staying
out of sight was the least she could do. And staying away from people, kids in
particular, was a matter of preserving her sanity. The fear of a panic attack
hung over her every time she ventured out into the community.

“Ethan Hunter is a good man. Some smart woman is going to
snatch him up.”

“He deserves a good woman.” Her heart pinched when she said it.
“And Laney deserves to be loved by a woman who can keep her safe.”

“Oh, sugar pie,” Patsy said wearily, shaking her head. “You’re
only a danger to your own happiness, never to a baby.”

Molly wished that was true. “I’m tired, Aunt Patsy.”

“I know you are. In more ways than one.” She patted Molly’s
arm. “I’ll let you rest ’til dinner, but just you mark my words. Ethan Hunter is
special and he likes you. If he’s the man I think he is, he’ll be back.”

“Won’t do any good.”

Molly burrowed into the pillow and closed her eyes again.
Ethan’s handsome face was there to haunt her. She pushed him away. A baby was
dead because of her, and regardless of how much she liked Ethan, she couldn’t
bear to live through that again.

Chapter Seven

W
ithin the next couple of days, the capricious Oklahoma temperature shot up to a balmy forty-seven degrees and ice melted with the speed of the sunlight beaming down upon it. Chunks fell with thuds from branches and eaves.

“Are you sure you want to go back to the farm so soon?” Aunt Patsy asked.

Molly could hardly wait. Every moment in town made her uneasy.

“The Center’s going to reopen tomorrow. I need a day at home to get things back in shape before returning to work.”

That much was true. But the whole truth rested in the worry that her sister or mother would drop by to check on Aunt Patsy. They had both already called several times. Once Molly had answered. Her sister’s frosty tone, ordering her to, “Put Aunt Patsy on the phone,” was enough to bring the terrifying tightness into Molly’s throat.

One wrong word, one suspicious stare could instigate a panic attack. She had moved to the farm in the first place to avoid the townsfolk’s stares and whispers and the inevitable encounters with her sister. The old house was her haven.

To make matters worse, Ethan had called every day to check on her injury. And she’d struggled long and hard to ignore his not-so-subtle hints that he and Laney drop by for a visit. The need to see him again was strong and troubling.

She pulled her coat closed and then hugged her aunt’s shoulders. “Thanks for asking Pastor Cliff to drive me out.”

“He was glad to do it. He misses you. We all do.”

“I’ll call you when I get there. Don’t worry.”

Taking care not to fall on any of the many remaining patches of ice, she headed out the door and climbed into the waiting pickup truck. She hadn’t seen her pastor in several months, not since the last time he and his wife had come to the farm, trying
to set up a counseling session between Molly and Chloe. They meant well, but she had already tried everything to repair the rift, only to have her sister scream accusations in her face. She understood that. Accepted it. Nothing could fix the wrong she’d done to Chloe. And the panic attack she’d suffered that day had sealed her decision for good.

“How ya doin’, Molly?” The young preacher was a blond giant the size of a wrestler but with a gentle nature that was as disarming as it was surprising.

“Good. Yourself and Karen?”

“Great.” Beefy hands on the steering wheel, the minister headed the truck down the slushy street. “Karen’s already gearing up for the spring bazaar.”

“So soon?”

“Not much else to do until this weather settles. You know how she loves making knickknacks.” His sky-blue eyes slanted in her direction. “You ought to get involved again, Molly. You’re good at that sort of thing, too.”

Painfully bright sun reflected off the melting ice. Molly squinted at it, heaviness centering in her chest.

Yes, she was good at crafts and “knickknacks” and loved the creation process so much that she and Chloe had once planned to open a shop together. She also missed the social contact. But Chloe was a mainstay for the women’s group, her prize-winning quilts and crocheted items in much demand.

“My sister would have a fit.”

Cliff slowed and turned off the main road. The truck geared down, working harder on the now-muddy country roads.

“Maybe if you were around every Sunday, Chloe would be forced to adjust, and both of you could get past this stand-off.”

“I doubt it.” Chloe had made her feelings very clear. Molly was a reminder of all she had lost,
the person whose very existence had caused her grief. If Chloe never saw Molly again, it would be too soon.

“Did you know she’s been getting counseling?” Pastor Cliff asked. “She and James both.”

Other than the tidbits her aunt shared, Molly knew little about her sister these days. “I’m glad. I hope it helps. She’s suffered enough.”

“They’re considering going to a support group that meets down in Mena. A group of people who’ve each lost a child.”

“That’s good.” Her chest began to hurt. She rubbed the base of her tightening throat, sorry she’d broached the topic in the first place. “Could we talk about something else?”

Pastor Cliff gave her one of his compassionate looks. “Still having the attacks?”

“Not in a while.” But she’d come far too close recently to want to take a chance.

“Ethan Hunter said the two of you rode out the storm together.”

Molly groaned inwardly. Another difficult subject.

“He stayed in Uncle Robert’s camper, the one
he takes to Broken Bow Lake every summer.” She didn’t want any rumors getting started. She had enough of those to deal with. “He’s a good guy.”

“I think you made an impression on him, too.” A grin split his wide face. “He came by the house yesterday afternoon.”

Molly wanted to know how Ethan looked, how he was, and what he’d said about her, but didn’t ask. Some things were better left alone.

“He told me about the cut on your leg.”

“Clumsy me.” She patted the sweat pants covering the area. “But it’s almost healed now.”

“Lucky thing you had a paramedic on hand.”

“Aunt Patsy says Ethan’s presence was part of God’s plan. Do you believe that, Pastor Cliff?”

More than once she’d wondered what she would have done if Ethan had not been there to help her.

“I never argue with Miss Patsy. She is a wise woman.”

Molly couldn’t deny that, but she still struggled to understand God’s hand in all that had happened, not only Ethan’s presence during the ice storm, but baby Zack’s death. A plan that included such a tragedy didn’t make much sense to her.

They rode along in silence for a while, jostling and straining over the patchy ice and red mud until the farm came into sight. The broken tree limb, looking naked and forlorn, lay in the front yard where she and Ethan had left it. Other limbs had given way and lay scattered about. The yard remained frozen with only patches of dead grass visible beneath the shiny ice.

“I really appreciate the ride, Cliff,” Molly said as they pulled into her driveway and parked.

“Don’t you want to check the house before I leave, make sure everything’s in working order?”

She hopped out, eager to be home, to reclaim the relative peace she’d fought so hard for.

“That’s okay. The electric company repaired the broken line. If I need anything I’ll have my Jeep.”

Cliff hesitated. “You sure?”

“Positive. Tell Karen hello for me.”

“Come to church Sunday and tell her yourself.”

Molly grinned and slammed the door. Pastor Cliff would never give up. It was both an endearing and an exasperating quality.

The truck spun away, mud and water splattering the fenders. Molly waved, then walked carefully across the yard and into the house, eager to get busy. Most of her refrigerated goods would have to be discarded, and laundry was piled high in the basket, so after removing her coat, she set to work.

Deciding to get the laundry started first and save the more time-consuming clean-ups for later, she went into the utility room and sorted through the stack of clothes. A tiny pink terry-cloth sleeper peeked from beneath the pile.

Lifting out the baby pajamas, she got a funny catch beneath her ribcage. The memory of Laney’s warm, sweet scent and soft baby skin rolled through her.

She placed the item in a stack of delicates. Laney needed this, and keeping it would be wrong. She’d have to return it.

Some perverse part of her leaped at the idea.

After filling the washer, she pulled the on knob—and heard a deep, airy gurgling.

Great. Just what she didn’t need. With the power off for such a long time, the water pump must have lost its prime.

But as she started out the back door to check, another sound took preeminence. Not gurgling, but humming. The humming of an overworked well pump. One look at the yard told her why. Water stood in small lakes and flowed from beneath the house. Not the gentle trickle of melting ice, but a flood that could only mean one thing:

The water pipes had burst.

With a sinking heart, she rushed to the main valve and shut off the water.

Five phone calls later, she leaned her head against the back of the couch and groaned.

Pipes were burst all over the county. No one was available for weeks.

Dread weighed her down as she accepted the inevitable.

“Well, Samson,” she said to the cat who’d trailed her all over the house, curious about her fidgetings. “Looks like you and I are heading back to town.”

She’d survived an ice storm. She only hoped she could survive the aftermath.

* * *

“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Gonzales.” Molly squeezed the old woman’s cold fingertips. “I’ll get someone over to your place to relight the furnace right away. You stay here, have a nice lunch and enjoy yourself until I do.”

One of Molly’s favorite things about working in the seniors’ center was the relief on a client’s face when she solved a problem for them.

Since the ice storm there had been plenty of problems to solve. The center had been inundated with calls. In addition to their regular Meals-on-Wheels and other programs, everything from the need for a ride to the doctor to folks out of food and medicine had kept Molly and other staff members hopping. Many of the seniors were only now beginning to brave the cold weather to return to the center for lunch and socialization. Mrs. Gonzales was one of them.

Molly escorted the bird-like lady from her small office to the main recreational and dining area. She liked this large common room, finding it cozy and welcoming despite the size, due in large part to the warm colors and decorations on the walls. At one end, a sectional surrounded a fake fireplace. At the other, a quilting frame awaited the expert fingers of the Quilting Club. Small game tables lined the walls and longer dining tables centered the room.

Molly and Mrs. Gonzales made their way to a table where two other women chatted over hot coffee. One of them, Iris Flowers clunked down her cup and said, “Molly. Just the girl I wanted to see. How in the world did you know Maud Jennings needed groceries?”

“Intuition, I suppose. I called her and she didn’t sound right, so I ran by her house on the way to work.”

Phoning clients who hadn’t made an appearance at the center was something Molly did on her own, but she believed making that contact, especially with those who lived alone, was important and necessary.

Iris, who wore wild floral prints befitting her name, pursed crimson lips in irritation. “The proud old thing never told a soul she was in trouble.”

“Some folks are like that. Don’t want to impose, but I was glad to help out.” And she was.

The seniors accepted her, never whispered behind her back or made snide remarks. And in return, she gave them her all, sometimes working long after
the center closed. She didn’t mind. Usually she had nothing but a cat to go home to.

“You’re more and more like your Aunt Patsy everyday,” Mrs. Gonzales added. “Isn’t she, Iris?”

The other two women nodded and beamed looks of approval her way.

Molly hoped the compliment was true. She couldn’t imagine a better person to emulate than her great-aunt.

“Thank you, ladies. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find someone to go out and light Mrs. Gonzales’s furnace so the place will be cozy when she gets home.”

“Why don’t you get that cute UPS man to do it?” Iris said. “He’s right handy at such things.”

The old ladies giggled like teenagers and Molly laughed with them, though hers was more forced. All the seniors seemed to know that she and Ethan had ridden out the storm together and teased her about him on a regular basis.

“I imagine he’s in Mena today making deliveries.”

“And then again,” Iris said pointedly, giving her glasses a shove. “Maybe he’s not.”

The ladies giggled as Molly followed the direction of Iris’s gaze.

Her heart tumbled to her toenails.

Ethan, carrying a load of packages, pushed through the glass double doors and came toward her.

When he spotted her gaping at him as though she’d never seen such a good-looking sight, he smiled. Her heart tumbled a little farther.

“Close your mouth, Molly,” Iris whispered.

Though her mouth wasn’t really open, Molly knew she had to get a grip. She took a deep breath and returned his smile.

“Hi,” she said and was amazed to sound so natural.

“Hi, yourself.” He stopped in front of her and gazed down with the strangest light in his eyes. She stood there like an idiot, mesmerized.

He looked rested and well. And really, really handsome in the brown uniform that set off his brown hair and blue eyes to perfection.

She’d missed him. Had he missed her?

“Yoo-hoo, Molly. Ethan,” Iris trilled while two other ladies tittered. “Helloooo.”

Ethan broke the magnetic stare long enough to nod in their direction. “Ladies. How y’all doin’?”

“Couldn’t be better.” The three women beamed. “Isn’t that right, Molly?”

Molly decided to ignore their pointed attempts at matchmaking.

“Deliveries for us?” she asked.

“There are more in the van. Must have been a backlog while the roads were so bad.”

He seemed in no hurry to move, but Molly knew she had to do something besides stare like a lovesick cow.

“I’ll help you unload.”

“Great.” Ethan grinned as if she’d offered him the grand prize.

Iris’s voice intruded, “Don’t forget about Mrs. Gonzales’s furnace.”

“I won’t,” Molly said and started forward, eager to get away from the well-meaning women.

The delighted chatter of the trio followed them across the room and into Molly’s little office. “Sorry about the ladies. They’re all hopelessly infatuated with you.”

Setting the boxes on the indicated table, he laughed. “Is that a fact?”

“Every one of them. You must stop emptying their mousetraps and unplugging their sinks.”

“Can’t. I’d starve to death without their cooking.”

“You would not.” She stuck a hand on one hip, realized she was flirting, and let it drop. “It’s nice of you to help them out.”

“Symbiotic relationships seem to be an important element in my life.” His grin widened as he repeated the word she’d used in describing their time together. “What’s wrong with Mrs. Gonzales’s furnace?”