A Very Special Delivery

dinette table and fiddled with the knobs. Static and a high-pitched wee-ooh-wee filled the kitchen.
    At the unexpected noise, Laney squealed. Molly jumped and nearly dropped the heavy basket.
    Ethan gave her a funny look and said, “She’s okay. Cry of the banshee. Remember?”
    Molly’s throat tightened. She rubbed at it, forcing her windpipe to remain open. “Check on her.”
    She was behaving like an idiot, but she couldn’t help it.
    “Okay,” he said quietly, and left the radio long enough to retrieve his daughter.
    Molly followed him to the doorway, battling the creeping anxiety. Intellectually, she knew Laney was fine. Emotionally, she had to be certain.
    Lord, would she ever stop feeling afraid?
    * * *
    As Ethan bent to pick up Laney, memories of the last two days flickered through his head. When Molly had avoided holding his daughter he’d chalked it up to another woman without a mother’s instinct. But that didn’t jive with her dedication to the homeless and underprivileged children nor with the woman he’d come to know and like.
    Now, understanding clicked into place. In his years as a paramedic he had seen that state of near panic dozens of times. Molly didn’t dislike Laney. She was afraid of her. Though he couldn’t imagine why anyone would fear an infant, the knowledge made him feel better. It also made him more curious than ever. What had happened to make a grown woman so anxious around an infant?
    Whatever it was, he wanted to fix it.
    Molly was a good woman with a caring heart. She’d proven that a dozen times since he’d barged into her home and started asking favors. During the long conversations and crazy domino game of last night, he’d come to a startling realization.
    Somehow he had to reconcile his baby with Molly. Because he wanted to know her better—a lot better.
    The idea shocked him no end. He’d thought he was finished with women forever.

Chapter Five
    “Y ou can’t go up on that roof. It’s too slick and dangerous.” Molly’s breath puffed white in the frigid morning, and sprigs of shiny red hair peeked from beneath her hooded parka.
    “Got to.” Ethan rested on his haunches next to
the house where he had scraped away enough ice to set up the ladder. “That tree is wrecking your roof. You’ll have a leak the size of Lake Erie.”
    Ever since the storm, he had worried about the many trees surrounding the big old farmhouse. Their strength was sorely taxed by the heavy layer of ice and all were bent into unnatural positions. Last night one had finally given way and collapsed onto the roof.
    He and Molly had been engrossed in a serious game of Scrabble when the thundering crash had occurred. He had jumped, awakening Laney, who sent up a startled howl. Molly had screamed and tossed a handful of potato chips sky high. This had insulted the lap cat who yowled and stalked out of the room.
    They had ended up laughing until tears blurred their vision and they were breathless. During that moment, he’d stared into Molly’s gentle face and found himself wanting to please her, to make her laugh more, and most of all, to chase away the anxiety emanating from her.
    Now the small redhead stood in the yard, head tilted back to survey the storm damage. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty her pale skin looked in the morning sunlight.
    “Do you really think the roof will leak?” Her small teeth gnawed at a peach-colored bottom lip.
    “No doubt about it.” He secured the ladder and started up. “You could steady this for me, if you don’t mind.”
    Molly hurried to do his bidding and Ethan felt a rush of pleasure. She was a trooper, ready to help, willing to do her part. She not only didn’t complain about their situation, she found ways to make it seem like an adventure: board games, lively discussions about religion and politics, creative meals by candle- and lamplight.
    A man could get attached to a woman like that. After his mistakes with Twila, he was loath to get involved with any woman ever again, but Molly muddled his thinking.
    And muddled thinking always led a man astray.
    He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He had plenty to do today, and fretting over his past wasn’t getting any of it done.
    To still the disquieting thoughts, Ethan started
up the ladder, his boots clanging against the metal rungs.
    Once on the gabled roof, he realized the tree was too large to move in one piece. He would have to saw it apart.
    Slip-sliding to the edge, he called