A Very Special Delivery

in no danger. And Molly would somehow handle the constant fear of a humiliating panic attack.
    Together she and Ethan devised a simple plan for making the fuel and food last. Then, while she organized the meals and melted water, Ethan had brought in ice and firewood. He had also checked the sagging, ice-laden power lines around the house and fretted over the huge trees bowing over the porch roof. Most importantly he had not expected her to take care of Laney just because she was a woman. She was particularly grateful for that, though each time he ventured outdoors, she counted the minutes until his return.
    After putting the last of the supper dishes away, she wiped her hands on a towel. Heating dishwater on the gas stove gave her a new appreciation of pioneer women.
    From the living room she heard Laney’s baby voice and Ethan’s manly one. He was giving his daughter a sponge bath in front of the fireplace. Hoping for one of those herself later, Molly filled another kettle and placed it on the burner before going into the living room.
    The diapered baby lay on a quilt, tiny legs and arms bicycling for all she was worth. Her round face was alive with interest as Ethan, on his knees beside her, carried on a one-sided conversation.
    “Are you Daddy’s angel girl?” he asked, leaning over her.
    Baby Laney cooed in response and slammed one little fist against the side of his face.
    Ethan laughed and nuzzled the rounded belly, an action that sent Laney’s arms and legs into fast motion.
    Suddenly, he scooped the child into his big hands and lifted her overhead, waggling her gently from side to side. Laney’s toothless mouth spread wide and a delighted gurgle filled the dimly lit living room.
    Molly felt a catch beneath her ribs at the pleasure father and daughter found in one another. There was something beautiful and pure in that kind of love.
    Tears pricked at her eyelids. A deep, tearing need took her breath, and she turned back toward the kitchen.
    Outside, snow still fell in spits and spurts, skinny flakes that were as much ice as snow. Darkness descended, though the time was not yet six o’clock. Anything that had dared to thaw would soon refreeze.
    With no electricity for reading and no TV, the evening with Ethan and his daughter would be a long one. He was a great guy, an attractive man, but he was also a father. Wouldn’t he be horrified to know she had been investigated by the police for a baby’s death?
    The familiar wrench of sadness twisted in her chest.
    She stood at the kitchen sink and stared out at the descending night, wishing for what could not be. According to Aunt Patsy she had to stop dwelling on the unchangeable. For a while she had begun to think she had—until the UPS man arrived with his unexpected delivery to remind her of all she’d lost and all she wanted but could never have.
    A part of her wondered why the Lord had allowed her nephew’s tragic death. And why He had allowed her Christian sister to turn against her.
    Shivering, she rubbed her arms and tried to put aside the morbid thoughts. Some questions were unanswerable.
    When she returned to the living room, Laney
was dressed in red footed pajamas, her face shiny and pink from the bath, and her dark hair neatly smoothed. Cradled in Ethan’s arms, eyes wide and earnest, she eagerly sucked down her supper.
    A kerosene lantern which Ethan had carried in from the camper sat on the coffee table and cast a shadowy, golden glow over the man and child. Coupled with the fireplace, it shed an adequate, if dim light.
    Molly settled into the easy chair opposite Ethan’s, curling her legs beneath her.
    “You’re a good dad.” It was true. She’d rarely seen a man so attuned to his child.
    “I’m trying.” He slid the empty bottle from the baby’s mouth and lifted her against his shoulder for burping. “I made a lot of stupid mistakes before Laney came along. I don’t want her to suffer for them.”
    Molly wondered if Laney’s mother was one of those mistakes.
    “Everybody has regrets.” Recalling the way her mother and sister had turned their backs on her, sadness lay like a rock in her stomach. “Some you never get over.”
    Gaze steady, he patted Laney’s back. “You talking from personal experience?”
    She rose and moved to the fireplace, her back to Ethan. Why had she said anything at all? Sure, she was on edge with a baby underfoot, but Aunt Patsy was the only person she ever talked to about Chloe and the loss of