A Very Special Delivery Read Free

soul. That’s what my mama taught me.”
    “Oh, so my eyes tell you that I’m good with children?”
    He came toward her, hunkering down in front of the chair, the baby still in his arms. “They tell me you’re a good person. A little sad, maybe, and real scared of something, but a gentle, caring woman who’ll look after Laney with everything in you.”
    Disturbed by his all-too-accurate assessment, Molly lowered her gaze to the baby, her stomach churning in trepidation. Chester’s life hung on her decision. Spending even an hour alone with a baby would be pure torture, but she had no choice. She had to do this. She only hoped the baby’s life wasn’t in jeopardy, too.

Chapter Two
    M olly stood at the window watching as the delivery truck struggled down the driveway, this time leaving her alone with a diaper bag and a small baby. The hazy fog of ice crystals blocked the van from view in no time and the howling wind covered the hum of the disappearing motor. He was gone. And she was alone for the first time in two years with someone else’s baby.
    She hadn’t had a panic attack in the last six months, had believed she was finally past the painful valley of mourning, but she was near the point of panic now. The terror that closed off the windpipe and rattled the pulse wasn’t far from taking over. Drawing in a deep breath, she rested her cheek against the frozen windowpane and quoted the scripture Aunt Patsy had made her personalize and memorize. God has not given me the spirit of fear.
    Even though she still struggled to believe that God was with her, helping her, the scripture somehow calmed her terror. It hadn’t at first, but over the months of constant repetition and Aunt Patsy’s gentle counsel, she’d slowly gained control over the attacks.
    A soft mewling sound issued from behind her. Whirling, hand at her tight throat, Molly hurried to the couch. True to his word, Ethan had moved the chair against the sofa and organized the cushions so that the baby wouldn’t fall, but he’d been wrong about her staying asleep. Wide awake, blue eyes gazing up at Molly, the child gnawed at a tiny pink fist.
    “God has not given me the spirit of fear,” she mumbled as she pulled a straight-backed chair next to the couch to be near the baby. Maybe if she watched the child every second nothing terrible would happen.
    The baby kicked and gooed, squirmed and sucked at her fist, but she didn’t go back to sleep. Molly sat rigidly, afraid to move, afraid even to blink. After fifteen minutes her neck muscles ached and she needed to go to the bathroom, a dilemma that meant leaving the baby alone—unthinkable—or picking her up—terrifying. The last baby she’d touched had been dead.
    Her scalp prickled from the memory. Baby Zack, his little body still warm, limp and lifeless against her chest as she ran screaming, screaming into the front yard of her sister’s house. Neighbors had come running, she didn’t know where from, though it was late summer when folks still enjoyed puttering in their gardens and cooking outside. One man carried a garden hoe to frighten away an attacker. But there was no attacker. And all the concerned neighbors in Winding Stair, Oklahoma, couldn’t help baby Zack.
    The panic started to crawl up Molly’s spine once more. Her grip on the chair would surely leave the imprint of her fingers in the wood. She had to hold on. She could not suffer a panic attack while this child was in her care.
    No telephone to call for help. No Aunt Patsy to talk her through. This time she’d have to rely on God alone.
    A glance at the anniversary clock resting on the fireplace mantel told her that Ethan had been gone all of thirty minutes. At this rate she’d be crazy before he returned.
    She refocused her attention on the baby. With a jolt, she saw that Laney’s eyes were now closed. Was she asleep or—? The awful thought forced her to do what she dreaded most. Fingers trembling, she reached out, slowly,