A Very Special Delivery

known was there.
    With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Ethan got out to survey the situation.
    The van was hopelessly stuck. The Stubbs’ place was at least four miles back. He’d never be able to walk that far in this weather. But he couldn’t stay here either. No one would be along this road for days, maybe weeks.
    He had little choice but to walk to Molly McCreight’s farmhouse, even though he wasn’t sure how far that
was. With a heavy sigh of dread, he bundled himself
as much as possible for the trek, took the flashlight from beneath his seat and stepped out into the wretched storm. He gasped as a sharp north wind slammed into him. Tears stung his eyes.
    Less than ten minutes later ice encrusted his eyelashes and obscured his vision. He scraped at them, but his gloves, too, were covered with a fine layer of ice. Several times he slipped and nearly lost his footing, but he trudged on, keeping his focus on getting back to the baby he loved more than life itself. Thinking of Laney had given him the strength to do a lot of difficult things in the past year, and he thanked God every day for the gift of his daughter.
    Molly McCreight’s pinched face came to mind. He’d liked her the minute she’d pulled him into her house, welcoming him without even asking his business. And he’d liked her house. The neat country hominess—if that was a word—and the tantalizing fragrance of food cooking had reminded him of his parents’ home.
    He’d thought she was cute, too, with those brown-gold eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across her small nose. But from her reaction to his daughter, Molly was no different than Twila Thompson.
    Still, there was something about her that appealed to him. And thinking of Molly and Laney safe and warm in the old farmhouse helped him keep moving.
    Bending his neck against the north wind, Ethan shone the flashlight around him. No lights. No houses. Nothing. The flashlight danced wildly. For the first time, he noticed he was shivering and wondered when that had begun. His feet moved more slowly now, too. Even filtered through a muffler, the air hurt his lungs, burning so badly he could hardly stand to draw another breath. The scar over his eye throbbed painfully.
    He’d never been this cold before. With every step, sparks, like frozen electricity, shot through his feet. Ethan considered this a good sign. They weren’t frostbitten—yet.
    He had no idea how far he’d walked, but he did know one thing for certain. Hypothermia was setting in. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he’d freeze to death.
    The idea sent a surge of adrenaline into his bloodstream. Nothing could happen to him. Baby Laney depended upon him. He was all the parent she had.
    “Just me and You, Lord,” he muttered through stiff, numb lips.
    Snow and ice swirled around him, punishing him with every step, but the warm presence of God strengthened him.
    He’d gone less than fifty more feet when he spotted the feeble glow of yellow against the raging white night. Had he not been so cold and miserable, he’d have shouted for joy.
    He turned toward the light, trudging, struggling against the bitter wind and within minutes stumbled onto the now-familiar wooden porch.
    Without bothering to knock, he shoved open the door. And fell face first into Molly McCreight’s arms.
    * * *
    Molly wasn’t sure whether to scream in fright or praise God that Ethan Hunter was still breathing. He weighed a ton compared to her, and most of that weight was now shifted to her shoulders. She half dragged, half walked him to a big blue easy chair. Shudders racked his body. His skin was red and windburned. The ice frozen on his eyelashes tore at her heart.
    Where was his van? Had he had an accident? Had he made it to Chester’s place?
    “Ethan.” He was by far the most nearly-frozen human being she’d ever seen, but she saw no sign of other injuries. “Are you all right? What happened?”
    Stiff lips replied, “Heat exhaustion.”
    Molly held back a smile. Interesting man to joke under such dire conditions.
    “I’ll get something hot for you to drink. Stay right here.”
    Then she laughed at her own silliness. The man could barely move. After a quick glance at the baby, Molly hurried into the kitchen and shoved a cup of instant cocoa into the microwave. While the drink heated, she turned on the flame beneath the pot of beef stew. Ethan would need some hearty, hot food, too. Then she could find out what had happened.
    At