A Very Special Delivery

good father and raising his child to the best of his ability.
    And yet, here he was, falling for Molly. Falling hard. He didn’t know if it was right. Didn’t know if he should, considering his tainted history, but it was happening. He wondered if God would approve of a relationship between a decent girl like Molly and a messed-up man like him.
    The question had him slowly pulling away from her sweet kiss.
    She rested her cheek against his chest and Ethan was sure she could feel the pounding of his heart. He smoothed the flyaway hair and held her close for the longest time, wondering, worrying.
    He didn’t want to cause her more trouble than she had already suffered. A good Christian would be unselfish and walk away rather than risk hurting her. A good Christian would concentrate on being a single dad.
    Cupping Molly’s face, he stared down into a pair of clear, honest, hopeful brown eyes and faced the truth about himself.
    He wasn’t such a good Christian after all.

Chapter Ten
    W isps of cirrus clouds played peekaboo with the early April sun. A steady wind, blowing in from the south, brought warming temperatures, and Molly was glad to see the harsh winter give way to spring.
    She and Ethan had braved the wind for an after-dinner walk in the small courtyard behind his apartment complex. Laney, bundled in a fleece outfit, a purple stocking hat on her head, rode along in her stroller. Big blue eyes, more alert and curious by the day, alternated between the colorful shapes hanging from her stroller and the activity in the courtyard.
    Every time she was with Ethan this way, Molly promised herself not to see him again. But then he’d come by or call, and her foolish heart would take control and totally ignore her common sense.
    Though still reluctant to call their time together dates, Molly had to admit she felt more than friendship for her handsome delivery man.
    “The jonquils are up,” she said, rubbing her sweater-covered arms against the slight chill. “I always feel better when I see them. All that yellow, I guess, after the dreary browns of winter.”
    Ethan, handsome and athletic in a hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans, bent and snapped one off, presenting it to her. “A pretty flower for a pretty lady.”
    “Flatterer.” But she smiled and took the sunny blossom, stroking the velvet smoothness against her cheek.
    Since that night when she had held Laney without panic and Ethan had kissed her, Molly’s frozen insides had begun to thaw as slowly and surely as the weather. Scary as that felt, it also felt good. Regardless of her sister’s animosity and her own guilt, Aunt Patsy and Ethan were right. She needed to move forward.
    Somehow she had to get past the fear of being alone with Laney. She adored the happy little baby. She had even grown brave enough to hold her and
play with her and talk to her, though only with Ethan present.
    She hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time, hoped they were gone for good, but she was still afraid to take the chance. She never wanted Ethan to see how weak and lacking in self-control she really was. And yet she adored Laney, yearned for her as if she were the baby’s mother.
    The inner battle raged continually until she wondered what to do. Break it off? Keep going though they had no future? Or pray for a miracle to change her fear to faith?
    “I talked to the plumber this afternoon,” she said to escape her troubled thoughts. “He thinks he can get out to the farm by Thursday.”
    “That’s good, I guess.” Ethan’s words came out a little doubtfully, hesitantly, as if he wasn’t all that thrilled.
    “I’ll be glad to get home. Aunt Patsy must be tired of having me underfoot.”
    “You’re good company for her.” He reached for her hand, his warm, strong fingers wrapping around hers like a glove. “For me, too. I like having you here in town, close by.” His mouth kicked up in a grin that made her heart go flip-flop. “To feed me when I’m starving.”
    She whopped him with the jonquil. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are a bum?”
    He dodged, rubbed the spot where the flower had touched him and laughed. “All the time. But a single man’s gotta eat.”
    He was teasing, she knew, because more than half the time he either cooked for her or ordered out. Take tonight. He’d charcoaled burgers for them on the outside grill while she’d whipped together a pan of fudgy brownies in his small efficiency kitchen.
    They strolled on, comfortable