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The Doctor's Christmas
“I’m Grant Hardesty, volunteer doctor of the month.”
The woman’s chocolate-colored eyes seemed made for smiling, but they held a cool reserve when she looked at him. “I’m Maggie Davis. Permanent nurse.”
“Nice to meet you, Maggie.” It hadn’t been so far, but things might improve.
Maggie lifted the envelope she held. “Your paperwork arrived the same day you did, Doctor. That’s the way the mail usually functions up here in the mountains. I didn’t think they’d send us a new doctor until after the holidays.”
“You got lucky,” he said lightly.
“Yes.” She looked him over. “Now that you’ve seen what Button Gap is like, do you still intend to stay?”
There was a challenge in the words that he didn’t miss. For whatever reason, Maggie Davis either didn’t want him to stay or didn’t think he would. Or maybe both.
He lifted an eyebrow, smiling slightly. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Davis. I fully intend to stay.”
MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book. She loves hearing from readers and will be glad to send a signed bookplate on request. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.
The Doctor’s Christmas
Marta Perry
Worship and serve God with your whole heart and a willing mind. For the Lord sees every heart and understands and knows every plan and thought.
—Chronicles 28:9
This story is dedicated to Bjoern Jacob,
Greta Nicole and Ameline Grace,
with love from Grammy.
And, as always, to Brian.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Grant Hardesty strode into the clinic’s waiting room. Empty and quiet, until a child’s wail issued from an exam room beyond the counter. He tossed his jacket onto a chair. Whether he wanted it to or not, his stint as a volunteer doctor at the isolated mountain clinic was apparently starting right now.
The exam room door stood open. A kid of about nine or ten sat crying on the table, while his mother stood next to him, wringing her hands. A woman who must be the clinic’s nurse struggled to pull the boy’s hands away from the cut on his face without knocking over the suture tray.
He gave a cursory knock on the door frame, barely breaking his stride. “I’m Grant Hardesty. It looks as if you have a patient for me already.” He headed for the sink, folding back his sleeves with a nod to the nurse. “I’ll do the suturing. You settle him down.”
The woman swung toward him, moving in front of the child protectively. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
Grant did a quick assessment. Jeans, boots, a flannel shirt over a white tee. What had happened to lab coats and name badges? The woman had thick glossy dark hair, short and straight, a pair of startled dark eyes and a stubborn chin. She did not look welcoming.
“I’m Dr. Hardesty,” he repeated. He started to take her place next to the patient, but she didn’t move. “From Volunteer Doctors. They must have informed you I was coming.”
The surprise in her face told him the answer to that one. She hadn’t expected him. Some bureaucrat must have fouled up.
The woman’s surprise was accompanied by something else. Before he could analyze what, the kid wailed again, the mother echoing his cry.
“Look, we’ll have a welcoming ceremony later. Let’s get the patient taken care of first.”
He didn’t have to analyze her reaction to that suggestion. Anger and indignation battled for supremacy.
“If you think I’ll turn my patient over to you without knowing more than that, you must be crazy.” Western Maryland accents were softer, lazier than Baltimorese, but hers had sharpened with anger.
The mother stifled a sob. “Maggie, if he’s a doctor—”
“We don’t know that.” She darted an annoyed glance at the woman. “Somebody walks in off the street and you want him to treat Tommy without knowing a thing about him just because he claims to be a doctor? I don’t think so.”
Maybe he should appreciate her caution, but he just wanted to cross off one day from his sentence here. Grant yanked his hospital ID from his pocket and tossed it to her. “Grant Hardesty, M.D. Okay?”
She let go of the kid to catch it, and the boy made a determined lunge to escape. Grant caught him, plopping him back on the table and getting a kick in the stomach for his trouble.
He clenched his teeth to keep back a groan. “Satisfied? Let’s get this done. I repeat. You hold, I suture.”
She frowned at his ID for another moment, then gave in with a reluctant nod.
“Gloves are on the tray.” She took the kid’s hands. “Come on, Tommy. The new doctor will take good care of you.”
She probably didn’t actually mean that reassurance, but at least she seemed done arguing.
He snapped on the gloves and checked the tray. He’d dealt with antagonistic medical personnel before. He could handle this one, even if she did dress more like a female lumberjack than a nurse.
He sensed her gaze assessing his every move even as she talked to the kid, distracting him while Grant cleaned up the boy’s forehead. The cut was nothing too drastic—no doubt she could have handled it herself, but that was why he was here. Wasn’t it?
He half listened to her chiding the kid about crossing some creek on a log. He’d committed himself to tending the medical needs of this western Maryland mountain county for the next month. It wasn’t what he’d intended to do after completing his residency, but the eventual reward would be worthwhile.
So here he was, lost in the wilderness until Christmas. He suppressed the edge that always entered his mind at the thought of the holiday.
At least, this job would get him away from his mother’s round of society parties. That was something to appreciate, anyway.
The boy had stopped wiggling, listening intently as—what had the mother called her? Maggie, that was it—as Maggie told him a story about encountering a bear in the woods. Fanciful, but it kept him quiet.
“There you are.” He stood back, pleased with the neat stitches. He hadn’t lost his touch. “The nurse will give you a sheet of follow-up instructions.”
He went to the sink to wash up. Before he treated any more patients, he’d get a lab coat out of his bag. It didn’t look as if he could count on the free clinic to provide them.
He heard the soft murmur of the nurse’s voice as she took mother and son to the outer office, explaining the instructions to the mother. Nurse Maggie seemed to have all the kindness in the world for her patients. And none for him.
Well, that was too bad. Presumably she was used to working with different doctors, since they rotated in and out of this place. She’d just have to adjust to his way of doing things.
If he stayed. The thought that had recurred since he left Baltimore came again. He didn’t have to stay.
The outer door had closed. He went back to the reception area, noticing pale green walls that needed a new paint job, posters urging flu shots and well-baby checkups, a row of metal folding chairs. Maggie whatever-her-name-was stood at the desk in the little cubbyhole behind the counter, frowning down at an envelope in her hand.
“Let’s start over again.” He leaned against the doorjamb, giving her what he hoped was a friendly smile. “I’m Grant Hardesty, volunteer doctor of the month.”
The woman’s chocolate-colored eyes seemed made for smiling, but they held a cool reserve when she looked at him. “I’m Maggie Davis. Permanent nurse.” She laid a faint stress on the word.
“Nice to meet you, Maggie.” It hadn’t been so far, but things might improve. He slid his jacket back on.
She lifted the envelope she held. “Your paperwork arrived the same day you did, Doctor. That’s the way the mail usually functions up here in the mountains. I didn’t think they’d send us a new doctor until after the holidays.”
“You got lucky,” he said lightly.
“Yes.” She looked him over, seeming to estimate the cost of his leather jacket and Italian loafers. “Now that you’ve seen what Button Gap is like, do you still intend to stay?”
There was a challenge in the words that he didn’t miss. For whatever reason, Maggie Davis either didn’t want him to stay or didn’t think he would. Or maybe both.
Well, she was wrong. With faint surprise, he realized that at some point in the past half hour, he’d made a decision.
He lifted an eyebrow, smiling slightly. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Davis. I fully intend to stay.”
In her need to get rid of him, she’d given herself away. Maggie gritted her teeth. She should at least pretend to be welcoming.
“I’m not disappointed. It’s just that the last volunteer doctor they sent us from the city couldn’t make it twenty-four hours without his mocha lattes.”
His eyes, as changeably blue and green as Elk Lake, narrowed a little at the implied criticism. His eyebrow quirked in a question. “Does that mean people will be taking chances on how long I’ll stay?”
The county board that ran the clinic would undoubtedly not appreciate her antagonizing the new doctor the first hour he was here. She tried to smile.
“It won’t be that bad. But outsiders do sometimes find staying in Button Gap a bit of a culture shock.”
“I’m here to provide medical services, not run for citizen of the year.” He abandoned the casual posture, straightening to an imposing six feet or so. The height went well with his classic, even features, his expensively cut brown hair and the tilt of his head that seemed to say he was better than everyone else.
She stiffened her spine. Aunt Elly would call him a “fine figure of a man,” no doubt. Well, Aunt Elly didn’t have to work with him.
“No, they won’t elect you citizen of the year,” she said. “But they’ll probably arrive bearing welcoming casseroles.”
“I’ll have to count on you to tell me how to respond, won’t I?” He gestured toward the doorway. “For now, you can give me the grand tour.”
She nodded, moving reluctantly past him, getting a whiff of some expensive, musky aftershave. She knew his type. She’d certainly seen it enough times. Dr. Grant Hardesty was your typical doctor-on-the-way-up, filled with the arrogance that came from an expensive education, a doting family and a hospital staff who’d probably catered to his every whim.
She was stuck with him for the next month, and he couldn’t have come at a worse time. A fleeting surge of panic touched her, and she beat it back down. She didn’t panic.
In spite of the determined set to the man’s firm mouth, she doubted he’d last a week, let alone a month. He probably had an elegant girlfriend back in Baltimore and a list of holiday parties a mile long. She’d just make sure he didn’t tumble onto her secret in the meantime.
“You’ve already seen our exam room.” She started down the hall.
He stopped her with a light touch on the arm. “Room, singular?”
The criticism in his voice annoyed her all over again. “One exam room.” The words were crisp. “One waiting room. One nurse/secretary/receptionist. This is a free clinic, not Johns Hopkins. We’re lucky the county provides the building and my salary.”
He lifted his hands. “Okay, truce. I was just surprised. I know you serve most of the county.”
She nodded. At least he realized how big this job was. “Lots of miles, but not so many people. Not enough, anyway, to convince a doctor to stay full-time since old Doc Harriman died, and that was fifteen years ago.”
She gestured toward the door they passed. “That’s locked storage. We have to keep meds on hand, because the nearest pharmacy is twenty miles away.”
He frowned, absorbing that information. “Where do you take patients if it’s something we can’t handle here?”
“Hagerstown has the closest hospital, and that’s a good forty miles. They have a Life Flight chopper they can bring in, unless the weather’s bad.”
“You make Button Gap sound like the last frontier.”
“Maybe it is, when it comes to medical care, anyway.”
He wouldn’t appreciate the significance of that. How could he? Someone like Grant Hardesty couldn’t understand either the terrifying challenge or the immense satisfaction of providing the only medical care some of Button Gap’s residents would ever have.
They reached the end of the hall. “The office.” She swung the door open. “You can use it, but some of the patient files and insurance forms are stored in here, so I’m in and out all the time.”
She’d found it best to make that clear right away with the visiting doctors. Otherwise, they’d assume it was their private sanctuary.
He glanced dismissively at the tiny room with its battered oak desk, flea-market chairs and office-supply-overstock file cabinets. “It’ll do.”
“The clinic’s hours are over for the day, so if you want to get settled—”
She left it open-ended, wondering how he’d respond. He so clearly didn’t want to be here that she couldn’t imagine why he’d volunteered to come in the first place. Maybe he’d thought it would be a nice addition to his résumé.
He just nodded. “My bags are outside.”
Apparently he intended to give the clinic a try. At any other time, she’d be grateful. But now—
She spared a fleeting thought for Aunt Elly, who’d taken over for her at home when she’d had to rush into the clinic.
The elderly woman hadn’t lost any of the loving spunk that had once made her the perfect foster mother for a scared, defiant eleven-year-old. She’d be all right until Maggie could get back to take over.
“I’ll help you bring your things in and show you the apartment.”
She led the way outside, wondering what he saw when he looked at Button Gap. The village was only a few hours’ drive from his busy hospital in Baltimore, but to him it probably looked as if it had not changed for the past century.
White frame houses and a couple of log cabins clustered around a village center composed of a general store and café, the post office with a flag flying in the wind and the medical clinic. White picket fences enclosed neat front gardens, their late chrysanthemums killed by the last frost. The heavily forested mountain ridges surrounded the town on all sides, rearing upward to cut off the gray November sky.
Maggie looked at it and saw home. He probably saw a hamlet with no coffee bar or decent restaurant in sight.
She might have predicted the new SUV he drove. It had probably been shiny clean when he left the city, but miles of mountain road had splashed it with mud.
He opened the back, and she grabbed the nearest duffel while he picked up two other bags. They matched, of course.
She nodded toward the long frame building that had been first a private home and then a grocery store before the county bought it for the clinic.
“The apartment for visiting doctors is on that side of the office. Mine is on the other side.”
He sent a cursory glance from one to the other. “Okay.” He took a computer bag from the front seat and slammed the vehicle’s door, locking it with an electronic key. “Let’s have a look.”
She unlocked the apartment’s front door and ushered him in, trying not to smile as he glanced around the living room. The county had been cheap with the furnishings, figuring none of the volunteers stayed long enough to make it worth fixing up the place. The beige carpet, brown couch, faux leather recliner and small television on a fake wood stand gave it the air of a motel room.
“The kitchen’s through here, bedroom and bath there.”
He took it in with a comprehensive glance. “I trust your place is a little better than this, since you’re the permanent staff.” His stress on the word said he hadn’t missed her earlier dig.
“Mine was the living room and kitchen in the original house, so it has a bit more charm.” She dropped the bag she’d carried in. “This part was once a grocery store. They knocked down the shelving and put in the kitchen to make it livable.”
His expression suggested he didn’t find it particularly livable. “Is it always this cold?”
“The county can’t afford to heat the place when no one’s here.” She indicated the cellar door. “I’ll start the furnace, but you’d better come with me to see how it works, just in case it shuts off on you in the middle of the night.”
She’d prefer he not think she was at his beck and call for household emergencies.
Taking the flashlight from its hook, she opened the door, letting out a damp smell. She vividly recalled the female doctor who’d flatly refused to go into the cellar at all. Grant looked as if he were made of sterner stuff than that, but you never could tell.
She took a steadying breath and led the way down the rickety wooden stairs. Truth to tell, she hated dark, damp places herself. But she wouldn’t give in to that fear, not anymore.
Grant’s footsteps thudded behind her. He had to duck his head to avoid a low beam, and he seemed too close in the small space.
“There’s the monster.” She flicked the light on the furnace—a squat, ugly, temperamental beast. “It’s oil fired, but the motor’s electric.”
She checked the oil gauge, knelt next to the motor and flipped the switch. Nothing.
Grant squatted next to her, putting one hand on her shoulder to steady himself as he repeated her action. His touch was warm and strong, giving her the ridiculous desire to lean against him.
“Doesn’t sound too promising.”
His voice was amused, rather than annoyed, as if he’d decided laughter was the best way of handling the situation. Maybe he was imagining the stories he’d have to tell, back in the city, about his sojourn in the wilderness.
“It’s just stubborn.” She stood, putting a little distance between them. She closed the door that covered the switch, then gave it a hearty kick. The furnace coughed, grumbled and started to run.
“Nice technique,” he said. “I’ll remember that.” His voice was low and rich with amusement, seeming to touch a chord within her that hadn’t been touched in a long time.
She swung around, the beam of the flashlight glancing off rickety wooden shelves lined with dusty canning jars. A wave of discomfort hit her, and she went quickly to the stairs.
“The furnace will keep running until the thermostat clicks off, but it’s always a little drafty upstairs. I hope you brought a few sweaters.” I hope you decide this isn’t for you.
If he left, they’d be without a doctor until after the holidays. If he stayed—
She didn’t have any illusions about his reaction if he discovered the secret she hid. No one else in Button Gap would give her away, but he might.
“I’ll make do,” he said. He closed the cellar door behind them.
Grant wouldn’t have a chance to give her away, because he’d never know. She’d make sure of that.
“Do you have a family, Maggie?”
Her heart stopped. “No. Why do you ask?”
His gaze fixed on her face, frowning, as if he considered a diagnosis. “I thought I saw a kid at your window when I arrived.”
“That must have been Calico.” She tried for a light laugh. “My cat. She loves to sit in the window and watch the birds. You probably saw her.”
He gave her a cool, superior look that said he wasn’t convinced. “Must have been, I guess.”
Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. Really I am. But isn’t protecting some of Your little ones worth a white lie?
Somehow she didn’t think God weighed sins the way she’d like Him to.
And she also had a sinking feeling that told her she might not get rid of Grant Hardesty anytime soon.
“So you lied to the man, child?” Aunt Elly looked up from the piecrust she was rolling out on Maggie’s kitchen table, her faded blue eyes shrewd behind her steel-rimmed glasses.
“I didn’t want to.” The defensive note in her voice made her sound eleven again, trying every trick in the foster-kid book on Aunt Elly before realizing the woman knew them all and loved her anyway. “But I didn’t want him to find out about the Bascoms.”
She shot a glance toward the living room, where Tacey, five, and Robby, four, were playing some kind of a game. Joey, at eight considering himself the man of the family, wasn’t in her line of sight. He’d probably curled up with a book on the couch, keeping an eye on his siblings. She lowered her voice.
“You don’t know what he’s like. Stiff-necked, by-the-book and arrogant to boot. I can’t take the risk of letting him know about the kids. He’s the type to call social services the minute he knew.”
Aunt Elley fitted the top crust over apple slices from her own McIntosh tree. “So you been saying, child. But you don’t know that for sure. Might be good to have a doctor handy with three rambunctious kids in the house.”
“I can take care of them. Besides, Nella will be back soon.” She wouldn’t give in to the fear that Nella Bascom, having lived with an abusive husband for too many years, just didn’t have it in her to raise her kids alone.
“You heard anything more from her?” Aunt Elly slid the pie into the oven and closed the door.
“Three cards and one phone call.” She nodded at the Christmas card she’d taped on the refrigerator where the children could see it every day. “She says she’ll be back for Christmas. That’s what she said in the note she left with the kids in the office.”
Shock had hit her when she’d opened the office that morning and found the Bascom kids in the waiting room. Tacey and Robby had been curled up like a pair of kittens, sleeping since Nella had left them at dawn. Joey had been watching over them.
“Nella will come back,” she said again firmly, as if Aunt Elly had argued with her. “Once she gets used to the idea that her husband isn’t around to hurt her anymore, she’ll adjust.”
“You could go looking for her.”
She could. The postmarks told her Nella had run to the small West Virginia town where she’d once lived. “I’ve thought about it. Prayed about it. But—”
Aunt Elly nodded. “You figure if Nella’s going to have strength enough to raise those youngsters on her own, she’d best come back on her own.”
“She will. And I’m not going to let those kids get sucked into the system in the meantime. Nella would probably never get them back if that happened.”
They both knew what Maggie had experienced in the foster care system. It lay unspoken between them.
“I reckon Button Gap can take care of its own,” Aunt Elly said. She glanced out the kitchen window. “But it looks like you’ll have to tell the new doc something.”
“Why?” She slid off her stool, dusting her hands on her jeans.
“’Cause here he comes, and he’s got ahold of Joey by the collar.”
Before Maggie could move, a knock thundered at the door. Shooting Aunt Elly an appalled look, she moved to open it.
