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voice. “Then we’ll just pray we can get out of here before she runs out.”
    “God won’t let us down. He brought us this far.”
    Molly closed the cabinet door and turned, frowning. “Are you saying God had something to do with you getting stranded here?”
    She started down from her perch and Ethan reached to offer a hand. Her cool skin felt almost as soft as Laney’s.
    “All I know is that I was meant to deliver that gamma last night.”
    She took the candles from him. “Because God told you to?”
    He shifted uncomfortably. Some of his friends and family rolled their eyes when he tried to explain that still, small voice that spoke from somewhere deep inside him. Would she?
    “Not in audible words, no. But somehow, on the inside of me—” he tapped his chest “—I heard Him.”
    Molly’s tea-colored eyes grew thoughtful. “That’s true. Sometimes you just know.”
    Relieved that she understood, Ethan smiled. “Exactly.”
    Lots of people thought he’d gone goofy since accepting Christ. And sometimes the criticism, the veiled sarcasm, hurt. He’d gone goofy all right, but in a way that filled him with a peace and reassurance he’d searched for all his adult life.
    “What about Chester?” she peered inside a lower cabinet, came out with box of matches which she set on the counter. “If you were supposed to give his chemo and you’re stuck here, how he is going to get his next dose?”
    “By some miracle the Stubbses still had phone service. I contacted my company. They’ll make arrangements for a chopper to take him to the hospital for treatments until the roads clear.”
    He didn’t want to think about what might happen if the storm cranked up again. He’d done all he could. The rest was in God’s hands.
    “I’m glad. The Stubbses are good people.” She glanced out the window above the sink. Two parallel lines between her pale brown eyebrows deepened. “What about the broken power line? Are we safe with all those volts bouncing around?”
    “As long as we stay away from the garage.” Years of flying low and watching out for electrical lines had taught him to be wary, but Ethan was still amazed that he had heard the sizzling electricity in time. What if he had touched that garage door? He shuddered to think what might have happened. Not just to him, but to Molly.
    Which brought him back to her earlier question.
    Was being stranded here, on this particular farm, with this particular woman, a part of some divine plan?
    * * *
    Snow fell for the rest of the day, but the sleet
and wind seemed, mercifully, to have passed. Regardless of the discomfort of having a stranger—and a baby—in her house, Molly thought the day progressed reasonably well. In truth, Ethan Hunter was easy to be around and his masculine presence was a comfort. The fact that he spoke openly about his faith reassured her in ways she didn’t understand or question.
    The baby was another matter altogether, but with Ethan present, Laney was in no danger. And Molly would somehow handle the constant fear of a humiliating panic attack.
    Together she and Ethan devised a simple plan for making the fuel and food last. Then, while she organized the meals and melted water, Ethan had brought in ice and firewood. He had also checked the sagging, ice-laden power lines around the house and fretted over the huge trees bowing over the porch roof. Most importantly he had not expected her to take care of Laney just because she was a woman. She was particularly grateful for that, though each time he ventured outdoors, she counted the minutes until his return.
    After putting the last of the supper dishes away, she wiped her hands on a towel. Heating dishwater on the gas stove gave her a new appreciation of pioneer women.
    From the living room she heard Laney’s baby voice and Ethan’s manly one. He was giving his daughter a sponge bath in front of the fireplace. Hoping for one of those herself later, Molly filled another kettle and placed it