A Very Special Delivery

onto guilt and unforgiveness.
    “But being around me hurts her, and I don’t want her to suffer anymore. She’s been through too much already.”
    And so have you, he wanted to say, but knew the sentiment would be rejected. Instead he said, “Is it like this every time you see her?”
    Pale red hair brushed her chin as she nodded. “I’ve only seen her a few times, mostly by accident. But every time she looks at me with those accusing eyes, and I feel so horribly ashamed, I leave. I do that to her, Ethan. Seeing me breaks my sister’s heart.”
    As Ethan absorbed the heartrending information, some of the things that had puzzled him about Molly began to make sense.
    “This is why you’re so anxious around Laney, isn’t it?”
    “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
    As terrible as it was, understanding this made him feel better. The fear around Laney coupled with the boxes for children’s charity had confused him. One minute he’d wondered if she was as self-focused as Twila and the next he hadn’t known what to think. Now he knew. It wasn’t that Molly didn’t care. She cared too much.
    His admiration—and sympathy—rose several notches.
    “What can I do to help?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Neither did he, but he wasn’t about to let this go without some serious thought and prayer. She might not have an answer, but Somebody did.
    He touched her cheek. “Are you going to be all right?”
    “Sure.” She straightened her shoulders and sat back in the seat, giving a mirthless, self-conscious laugh. “Sorry. I don’t usually cry all over someone nice enough to buy me lunch. You must think I’m an idiot.”
    That wasn’t what he thought at all.
    After scrubbing at her face one more time with the tissue, she fastened her seatbelt. “I’d better get back to work.”
    One hand on the gearshift, Ethan studied her. She looked exhausted. “Wouldn’t you rather I take you to Miss Patsy’s?”
    With a shake of her head, she drew in a deep, quivering breath. “Not necessary. I’m okay. But thanks.”
    He put the truck in gear, waited while a passing car arched a spray of dirty water against the back window, and then backed out of the parking place. His thoughts swirled with Molly’s predicament.
    He considered himself a man of action, a fixer. If a faucet leaked, he repaired it. If a patient needed gamma, he delivered it. When Twila had rejected Laney, he’d taken over.
    He’d find a way to help Molly, too.
    As the truck splashed through melted puddles along the street’s edge, more water sprayed onto the windshield. Ethan turned on the wipers, listened to the rhythmic whoomp-whoomp for the last few blocks of the trip back to the center as he considered all he’d learned today.
    He parked at the curb in front of the long brick building. Leaving the motor running, he turned to Molly.
    “Thank you for telling me.”
    She tried to smile. “Thank you for listening. And for not running away.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    She shrugged and Ethan saw the hurt hanging on her like an oversized shirt. Her family had rejected her. She expected the same from everyone else.
    Unbuckling her seatbelt, she reached for the door handle.
    “Molly.” He was reluctant to let her go. She needed more than a listening ear.
    She paused and swiveled her head toward him, amber eyes questioning.
    He cleared his throat. “I still owe you that home-cooked steak dinner.”
    Her face lit up for the briefest of moments, and he thought she would agree. Then as if by some pre-programmed signal all the life went out of her. “I can’t, Ethan. Please understand.”
    Understand what?
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t date.”
    His gut tightened. “Anybody? Or just me?”
    She reached across the seat and touched his sleeve. “Don’t think that. You’re the…nicest guy I’ve met in a long time.”
    His hopes rose. Now he was getting somewhere.
    “Then why not come over tomorrow night and let me amaze you with my culinary skills?”
    “I like you, Ethan. And if that was all that was involved—” She stopped herself, shook her head and started again. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
    Realization hit him like a fist in the gut.
    The wipers thumped the edge of the windshield and vibrated, scraping at the glass gone dry. Ethan let them scrape.
    “I get it now,” he said, jaw tight enough to break a molar. “You don’t date guys like me. A single man with a baby.”
    A man with baggage. A man with an