A Very Special Delivery

exhaled slowly, shakily.
    “After today, you’re bound to hear about it from someone. It would probably be better if I tell you myself. You’ll hear the truth this way.”
    He narrowed his eyes. The truth? Did the good people of Winding Stair tell lies about Molly? Regardless of the fact that he attended church with her troubled sister, he’d never heard a negative word about Molly.
    A car pulled in beside them. A door slammed, and his peripheral vision caught the flash of a plaid jacket. Ethan kept his attention riveted on Molly. No matter how long she stalled, he would wait.
    “Talk to me,” he said in the same soothing, cajoling tone he’d once used to gather vital information from injured patients.
    Molly stared out the fogging window and followed the plaid coat with bleak eyes.
    Ethan clicked on the defroster.
    As if the switch had also activated her tongue, Molly whispered, “Chloe believes I killed her baby.”
    The awful words echoed in the moist, heated air for a full minute. Stunned, Ethan fell back against the seat to absorb her meaning. His brain buzzed louder than the humming van motor. He couldn’t take it in.
    The Molly he knew wouldn’t hurt a flea. She fed birds and fretted over strangers, she provided for countless needy kids, and she pampered the elderly. No way she’d ever hurt a child.
    “I don’t believe you,” he said when he’d regained his voice.
    “It’s true. Anyway that’s what Chloe and most of the people around here think.”
    She looked so small and alone, sitting huddled against the door with her terrible secret hanging heavy between them.
    All of his protective instincts screamed to gather her close and block out the ugliness, to be the shield between Molly and the rest of the world. But it wasn’t the world that tormented Molly. It was her own guilt and sorrow.
    He reached out, tried to pull her back into his arms, but she resisted, scooting away to dig another tissue from the pocket of her beige coat. Red marks spotted her neck where her fingers had squeezed.
    He eased back against the driver’s door, allowing her the distance she seemed to need. As much as he longed to touch her, he resisted. The shots were hers to call. “What happened?”
    A beat passed. Then two. Her breath whooshed out, adding more fog to the windshield.
    “Chloe and James wanted an afternoon out, so I offered to babysit for Zack. He was six months old. I loved him so much.” She fidgeted with the tissue, picking it apart in tiny pieces. “We played. I fed him and gave him a bath. He smelled so good.” She closed her eyes as if remembering. “I can still smell him if I try.”
    Something inside Ethan twisted. He knew that sweet, special baby scent very well.
    “He was fine when I put him in his crib. Sleeping so peacefully. I kissed his soft little cheek and went into the living room.” She pressed her fists together in front of her face, shoulders hunched. “If only I hadn’t watched that TV show. Maybe if I had looked in on him sooner.”
    His medical knowledge clicked into place. He knew of only one malady so unexpected and so devastating in perfectly healthy infants.
    “SIDS?” he asked quietly. He’d gone out on a couple of those calls in his paramedic days. No call was more shattering.
    “That’s what the autopsy revealed.” She shuddered. “An autopsy, Ethan. I can’t bear to think about it.”
    Neither could he. He blocked the thought and moved into objective medic mode. If he let his emotions have free rein, he wouldn’t be any help to her at all.
    “SIDS happens, Molly. You didn’t cause it.”
    “But don’t you see? That doesn’t matter. Fault or not, my sister’s baby is dead. She lost the most precious thing in her life.”
    “But why punish you?”
    “I was the adult in charge. I was the one she’d trusted to protect her baby.”
    What could he say? No amount of argument would change the hideous loss all of Molly’s family had suffered. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he would feel in the same situation. Laney was his everything. After all he’d been through to keep her, nothing could be worse than losing her.
    But regardless of the tragedy, Chloe had no right to vent her anger and bitterness on Molly. Didn’t the woman realize that Molly was grief-stricken, too?
    “One thing for certain, Molly. Neither you nor your sister can heal until the rift between you is mended.” He’d had enough psych classes to know the negative impact of hanging