Книга - The Doctor’s Christmas

The Doctor's Christmas
Marta Perry


God could not have chosen a worse time to send Dr. Grant Hardesty to Button Gap. Three abandoned children were depending on Maggie Davis' s clandestine care until their mother returned. Maggie didn' t think she could trust the by-the-book doctor with her secret. Until she got a glimpse into his soul…and God' s mysterious ways became as clear as a starry night.Maggie knew her trust was well placed as this once-aloof doctor opened his heart to the children… and her. But as Grant' s time in Button Gap ended, she prayed for one more miracle. Could God make this man who seemed to have everything recognize that it all meant nothing without Maggie' s love?









“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





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


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.

Grant stood on her step, holding Joey by his frayed jacket collar. “This kid belong to you?”

“Not exactly.” She grabbed the boy, pulling him inside the kitchen. “He’s a friend. What are you doing with him?”

“I found him in the cellar.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “He was trying to dismantle my furnace.”

“He can’t have been.” Her rejection was automatic, but her heart sank. Actually, he could. Joey was fascinated by all things mechanical. Worse, he might have heard her earlier and decided to help the new doctor go away.

“Yes, he was.” Grant planted his hands on his hips, glowering at her. Then he seemed to become aware of Aunt Elly, watching him with what might have been an appreciative twinkle in her eyes. And of Tacey and Robby, standing in the doorway, looking scared. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Not company.” Aunt Elly wiped her hand on the sprigged apron she wore over a faded housedress, then extended it to him. “I’m Aunt Elly. I guess you’re the new doctor.”

“Grant Hardesty.” He sent Maggie an annoyed glance. “I thought you said you didn’t have any family. Your aunt—”

“Nope, not her aunt.” Aunt Elly was obviously enjoying herself. “Ellenora Glenning, if you want to be formal.”

“Mrs. Glenning—” he began.

“Call me Aunt Elly,” she said. “Everyone does.” She grabbed her bulky gray sweater from the coat hook inside the door. “I’d better get, Maggie. Watch that pie. And you children behave yourselves, you hear?” She twinkled at Grant. “You two can probably fight better without me here.”

She scooted out the door, leaving Maggie to face the music.

Maggie gave Joey a gentle push toward the living room. “You go in and play a game with your brother and sister now. We’ll talk about this later.”

Joey sent a sidelong look at Grant. “I won’t be far off, if you need me.”

She tousled his fine blond hair. “I know. Go on, now.”

When he and the other children were out of sight, she turned back to Grant.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked before she had time to think.

“I didn’t, not exactly.” Well, that sounded feeble. “You asked if I had any family. I don’t.” She pointed to the windowsill where the elderly calico cat slept, oblivious to the hubbub. “And you might have seen Callie.”

“I might have, but I didn’t.” His frown deepened. “It’s obvious these kids are staying with you. Why didn’t you want me to know?”

Part of the truth was better than none. “Their mother is a friend of mine. She had to go out of town for a few days, so I’m watching them while she’s gone.”

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me the truth when I asked.”

“Look, I just didn’t want you to think the children would interfere with my work.” She hated saying it, hated sounding as if he had the right to disapprove of anything she did. “They won’t. I have plenty of people to take care of them when I’m working.”

“Your system didn’t seem to work too well when the boy decided to take my furnace apart.”

“Joey. His name is Joey.” She took a breath. He had a point, unfortunately. “I’m sorry about that. He’s interested in how things work. Do you need me to come over and fix it?”

“I can manage.” There was a note to his voice that she didn’t like. “But I don’t want to work with someone I can’t trust.”

She wanted to lash out at him, tell him she didn’t want to work with him, either. Tell him to take his changeable eyes and his chiseled profile and go right back to Baltimore where he belonged.

But she couldn’t. Like it or not, she was stuck with him.




Chapter Two


Maybe he shouldn’t have been that rough on her. Maggie’s face looked pale and stiff, her promise delivered through set lips. They’d definitely gotten off on the wrong foot, mostly her fault, but he didn’t need to contribute to it.

Not being told the truth was a flashpoint with him, maybe because his parents had spent so much of their time either avoiding the truth or prettying it up until it became palatable to them.

Still, he had to work with the woman for the next month, and he was the temporary, not she. He needed to establish normal business relations with her, or his time here would be even more difficult.

He forced a smile. “Look, we’ve had a rocky beginning. What do you say we start over?”

Emotions flitted rapidly across her face. Maggie wasn’t as impassive as she probably liked to believe. He could see her questioning his motives and wondering whether he meant what he said. He could see her distaste at the thought of cooperating with him. And then he saw her reluctant acceptance.

Why reluctant? What made her tick? His own curiosity surprised him.

She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe that would be best.” She took a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge into cold water. “Welcome to Button Gap, Dr. Hardesty.” She extended her hand.

He took it. Her hand was small, but firm and capable in his.

“Call me Grant. After all, we’re going to be working closely for the next month.”

“Fine.” The reservation was still there in her dark brown eyes. “Grant.”

He’d held her hand a little longer than necessary. He released it and glanced around, looking for some topic that would ease the tension between them.

“This is a lot nicer than the temporary doc’s quarters.”

The big square kitchen had exposed beams in the corners and crossing the ceiling, with rough white plaster between them. Old-fashioned dish cabinets with multipaned glass fronts lined one of the walls, and a wood-burning stove took up floor space on the worn linoleum. In the corner nearest the door, she had a square oak table, its surface worn with the scars of countless meals.

Maggie managed a more genuine smile. “You should have seen it when I moved in.”

“I can imagine.” He saw the work she must have put in, now that he looked for it. The faded linoleum was spotless and brightened by rag rugs in bright colors. Someone, presumably Maggie, had polished the wood-burner to a black gloss. Red-and-white-checked curtains dressed the three small windows, and each windowsill sported a red geranium.

“No one had lived here for a lot of years. I had to fight the mice for control of the kitchen.” Satisfaction laced her words, and she glanced around possessively.

“I suppose the cat helped.”

“Callie?” Her face softened as she glanced at the white-orange-and-black ball of fur. “Callie’s way too old for much mouse-catching, but we get along okay.”

“How long have you been here?” He leaned his hip against the counter, wondering if she’d ask him to sit. Or if she was just waiting for him to leave.

“Five years.”

Something shadowed her face when she said that—some emotion he couldn’t quite decipher.

“You’ve made a nice nest here.” He sniffed the aroma filling the kitchen—apples and cinnamon, he thought. “Is that the pie I smell?”

She nodded. “Aunt Elly always claims I’m her one failure in teaching the fine art of crust-making.”

“If that means she bakes for you, failure might be worthwhile.”

“Don’t you dare tell her that.”

Her smile was the first genuine one he’d seen directed at him. It lit the face he’d been thinking plain, brightening her cheeks and making her eyes sparkle. He realized he was leaning toward her without meaning to.

“I promise,” he said solemnly.

“Well.” She glanced toward the pot on the stove, her color still heightened. “Supper’s almost ready. Aunt Elly left us stew and biscuits. Why don’t you stay and eat with us? I know you can’t have gotten any food in yet.”

He hadn’t even thought that far. “Thanks, but I can just go out and grab a bite.”

“Not unless you want to make do with a sandwich from the general store. The café doesn’t serve supper except on weekends.”

He really was in the boonies. “In that case, I’ll set the table.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She lifted a stack of plates and bowls from the cabinet.

He took them from her hands. “My pleasure.”

It only took minutes to set the scarred table. Maggie poured milk from a mottled enamel pitcher and scooped stew into bowls, then called the children.

Joey gave him a sidelong look as Grant slid onto a chair. “He staying for supper?”

“Yes.” Maggie’s return gaze was cautionary. “You be polite, you hear?”

“We’ll get along fine, as long as Joey doesn’t try to repair my furnace again.” Grant studied what he could see of the kid’s averted face. “What made you decide to work on the furnace, anyway?”

Thin shoulders shrugged. “I dunno.”

He wanted to pursue it, but Maggie held out her hand to him. Startled, he took it, then realized they were all holding hands around the table. Joey frowned at him, ducking his chin. Apparently they were going to pray.

“Father, we ask You to bless this food.” Maggie’s warm, intimate tone suggested she spoke to a friend. “Please bless and protect Nella and bring her back to us soon.” There was an almost imperceptible pause. “And we ask Your blessings on the guest at our table, Lord. Make his time here fruitful. Amen.”

He didn’t remember the last time anyone had prayed for him. It made him uncomfortable and touched him simultaneously. He and God hadn’t been on speaking terms in years, but he didn’t suppose he’d ever tell Maggie that.

“Good stew.” Joey was well into his bowl already.

Maggie caught Grant’s eyes and smiled. “He’s a growing boy. He eats like a bear.”

Joey growled, making his little sister and brother laugh. The kid’s answering grin was pleased.

The girl, Tacey, was a mouse of a child, thin and shy, with light brown hair tumbling into her eyes in spite of the pink plastic barrette that was pinned in it. The smaller boy laughed at Joey’s antics, then glanced around as if maybe he shouldn’t have.

An interesting combination. Maggie seemed to lose that perennial chip on her shoulder when she talked with the kids. Her brown eyes warmed with caring.

When he’d first seen her that afternoon, he’d thought he was looking at an overworked nurse with an antipathy toward outsiders, doctors or both. Now he saw another side to Maggie, one that was ruled by protectiveness toward the three kids, the old cat and probably also the elderly woman.

She glanced up and caught him watching her. Her eyes widened, and for an instant he didn’t hear the children’s chatter. Their gazes caught and held. Awareness stretched between them like a taut cord.

Maggie broke the contact first, looking down at her bowl, her cheeks pinker than they’d been before. He yanked his attention to his stew, stirring the brown gravy as if that was the only thing on his mind.

What had just happened?

No sense asking the question. He already knew the answer. He’d looked at Maggie and felt a shockingly strong wave of attraction. Maggie had felt it, too.

That wouldn’t do. He rejected the temptation. This month would be difficult enough without that kind of entanglement.

A pleasant, professional relationship—that was what was called for here. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to move beyond that instant antagonism. Maybe he should have settled for being sparring partners with Maggie, because anything else was out of the question.



Maggie stood at the reception desk checking charts. At least, she should have been checking charts. She definitely should not be thinking about those moments at supper last night when attraction had sparked between her and Grant.

She couldn’t dismiss the memory. Like the proverbial elephant in the living room, it took up too much space. She couldn’t ignore the warm wave that had washed over her, waking every cell in her body and reminding her she was alive.

All right, be rational. She couldn’t pretend that moment hadn’t happened, but she could understand her reactions. After all, she hadn’t had anyone special in her life for a long time—since she’d come back to Button Gap, in fact. She could hardly be surprised if working in close quarters with an attractive man roused feelings that were better left sleeping.

Grant was attractive. With his classically handsome face and his assured manner, he looked like what she suspected he was—a sophisticated, upper-class urbanite who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. A greater contrast to herself couldn’t be imagined.

Well, she wasn’t trying to measure his suitability for her, was she? She’d simply recognize the feeling for what it was and shut it down. She’d shut down worse emotions than this in her life. She could handle it.

She shuffled the charts into a stack and plopped them firmly on the desktop. No problem.

The exam room door opened. Grant came out with a patient—old Isaiah Martin, come to see if the new doc could do anything about his “rheumatiz.”

“Just see if those new pills help you.” Grant carried a parcel wrapped in brown paper gingerly in one hand. “Check in with us next week.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Isaiah tucked a handful of pill samples into the pocket of his dusty corduroy jacket, waved to Maggie and limped out, banging the door behind him.

Grant turned to her with a grin and held out the package. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

A parade of butterflies fluttered through her stomach at the grin. Okay, maybe she hadn’t eliminated the feelings. She could still settle for controlling her reactions so Grant never suspected.

She took the parcel and peeked inside. “Well, I’d suggest refrigerating it until you’re ready to eat it.” At his blank look, she smiled. “It’s venison sausage. Haven’t you ever had any?”

“Not that I can recall. I take it the barter system is alive and well in Button Gap.” He leaned against the desk, way too close for her state of mind. “Don’t they realize that the county pays the bills?”

She carried the package to the small refrigerator. “People here don’t like to accept charity. I’ve tried explaining that their tax dollars support the clinic, but most folks still want to pay their way.”

He shook his head. “They’re out of step with society, then.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No.” His smile warmed those cool blue eyes. “Anyway, you can have the sausage if you want it.”

“What’s the matter? Too rough for your sophisticated palate?”

Instead of responding with a smile or a jibe, he studied her face for a moment, as if wondering what lay beneath the skin. “That sounds like a criticism,” he said. “And I’m not sure why. What do you have against me, Maggie?”

She shouldn’t have let the remark pop out of her mouth. She knew better.

Grant waited, expecting an answer. At least he didn’t look angry.

“Sorry.” She forced herself to be honest with him. “I guess the problem is that I see the volunteers come and go. Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. We couldn’t run the clinic without them.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” He folded his arms across the front of the white lab coat he wore over a pale blue dress shirt.

She shrugged. “But sometimes they’re more trouble than they’re worth. And sometimes I get the feeling that the only reason they’re here is to fill in the line for public service on their résumés.”

“That’s a pretty harsh judgment, isn’t it?”

That was what Aunt Elly had said, in different words. She’d reminded Maggie that being judgmental was a sin.

“That’s how I feel. If I’m wrong, I’m sorry.”

He shoved himself away from the desk and came toward her, frowning. She had to force herself not to back up. He stopped, inches from her, his gaze intent on her face.

“Okay, fair enough. Why are you here, Maggie?”

Not for any reason I’d like to confide in you. “That’s a long story.”

“Give me the condensed version.” He didn’t look as if he intended to move until she did.

She looked up at him, then was sorry. He was too close for her state of mind. The tiny refrigerator was at her back, and he filled the narrow confines between the desk and the wall. She couldn’t walk away without brushing against him, and she wouldn’t do that. She had to say something.

“I worked in Pittsburgh for a time after I finished school, but I never got rid of my longing for the mountains. Button Gap felt like home to me, and I heard the county needed someone to run the clinic. So I came. End of story.”

“It’s a nice story.” His voice had lowered to a baritone rumble that did funny things to her. His fingers brushed hers. “You’re a dedicated person, Maggie.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Warmth seemed to emanate from his touch, flowing through her. She wanted to lean into him and feel that warmth encircle her.

She couldn’t.

What she’d told him wasn’t the whole story, and a large part of her particular story wasn’t nice at all.

That was just one more reason why she shouldn’t be letting herself feel anything at all when Grant was around. Unfortunately, that seemed easier said than done, especially when he looked at her with what might be admiration in his eyes.

“Grant, I—”

The door sounded, flooding her with relief. He moved, and she slipped around him. Aunt Elly came toward them. The heavy wool jacket she wore had probably belonged to her late husband, and she carried a basket over her arm, with a napkin tucked over something that smelled of cinnamon.

“Those aren’t cinnamon buns, are they?” Maggie leaned against the counter, smiling in welcome.

Movement beyond the plate-glass window caught her eye, and the smile faded. A county sheriff’s car pulled into the parking space in front of the clinic.

She felt instantly guilty, and it didn’t do any good to tell herself that the presence of the sheriff’s car meant nothing. It might well mean trouble if Grant was here when the occupant of that car came inside.

She rounded the counter quickly, taking Aunt Elly’s arm.

“You’re just in time to see the doctor.” She glanced meaningfully at the car, then back at Aunt Elly’s face. “Keep him busy,” she mouthed.

Aunt Elly followed her gaze, startled, then nodded. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s good. I want to talk to the doc about my knee.”

“You go on back.” She yanked open the file drawer to pull out Aunt Elly’s chart and hand it to Grant. “Dr. Hardesty’s coming right now.”

Only Grant’s slightly lifted eyebrows indicated he thought she was rushing them. He took Aunt Elly’s arm, and together they disappeared into the exam room.

Just in time. As the exam room door closed, the front door opened. Deputy Sheriff Gus Foster ambled toward the desk.

At least the sheriff’s department had sent someone she knew. Thank You, Lord.

“Hey, there, Maggie, how’s life treating you?” Gus lifted the dark felt hat from his white hair. With his snowy hair and beard and his comfortably round stomach, Gus visited the Button Gap schoolchildren as Santa every year.

“Fine, Gus. And yourself?” The formalities had to be gotten through before Gus would get to the reason for his visit, but her stomach tightened with the fear that Grant would come back out for some reason.

“Can’t complain.” He leaned against the desk. “Hear you’ve got a new doc.”

She nodded. “From Baltimore. Just until Christmas.” Had they’d chatted enough? It felt like her nerves were rubbed raw. “What brings you in to see us?”

“Well, now.” A shade of reluctance, maybe even embarrassment, touched Gus’s ruddy face. “It’s this way. We had a call from Mrs. Hadley.”

Maggie’s stomach lurched. Mrs. Hadley, head of the county’s social services department, wouldn’t have called the sheriff’s office for fun. Her thoughts flickered to the Bascom kids, safely tucked away with retired teacher Emily Davison for the afternoon, except for Joey, who was in school.

“What does she want now?” She tried to keep both face and voice expressionless.

“Now, Maggie, I know the two of you don’t get along. Reckon I know why, too. But I can’t ignore her when she calls.” He gave a wry grin. “Leastways, not unless I want her trampling over my head again.”

“If you know how she is—”

“I’ve got a job to do,” he said with heavy finality. “Mrs. Hadley’s had her eye on Nella Bascom and her kids. She stopped by to see them a couple of times and didn’t find anybody home. She wants to know what’s going on.”

Her heart sank. She’d been hoping against hope that the woman had enough to do without running all the way up to Button Gap. She’d prayed that no official notice would be taken of Nella’s absence before she was back home with her kids.

“Why did you come to me?” She tried to sound unconcerned.

Gus didn’t look convinced. “Everybody knows you’ve been helping Nella get by since that no-count husband of hers sent himself to perdition by crashing the logging truck. I figured you might know something.”

She could tell him Nella had gone away for a few days, leaving the kids with her, but that would only lead to more questions. “I don’t.” Another lie.

I’m sorry, Lord. I don’t want to lie, but what choice do I have? Mrs. Hadley would snatch those kids away in a minute. Nobody knows that better than I do.

“What business is it of Mrs. Hadley’s what the Bascoms do, anyway?”

“Now, Maggie. The way I see it, if something comes to my notice, official-like, I’d have to do something about it. If not, well, I don’t.”

Her tension eased. “Thanks, Gus.”

“I’m not saying I know anything. But you want to be careful.”

The exam room door opened, and a wave of panic raced through her. “I’ll be careful.” She rounded the desk, wanting to hurry Gus out.

He straightened, immovable. “You know as well as I do that those paper-pushers at the county seat would just as soon close down the free clinic if somebody gave them a reason.”

“Close down?” Grant stalked into the outer office, frowning. “What’s going on? Can I help you, Officer?”

Maggie looked at Aunt Elly, who gave a helpless gesture seeming to indicate that she’d done everything she could to hold him back.

“Nothing’s going on,” she said. “Dr. Hardesty, this is Deputy Sheriff Foster. Gus is an old Button Gap boy, just stopping in to say hi.”

Gus extended his hand. “Welcome to Button Gap, Doc. Hope you enjoy your stay here.”

“I’ll enjoy it more if I don’t hear talk about closing down the clinic,” Grant said, shaking hands. “What did you mean?”

Maggie held her breath.

“Oh, that’s nothing.” Gus smacked his hat against the side of his leg. “Maggie’s an old friend. I was just teasing her.”

Thank you. She should have known Gus wouldn’t give her away to an outsider.

Aunt Elly bustled between them. “Gus, I’ll give you a cinnamon bun for a ride in that sheriff’s car.” She swung the basket in front of him.

Gus patted his stomach. “Always room for one of your cinnamon buns, but I don’t want to deprive the doc.”

“Plenty for everyone.” Aunt Elly handed Gus a napkin-wrapped bun from the basket. She took his arm. “Now let’s see about that ride.”

“You’ve got it.” Smiling, he escorted her to the door. “Nice to meet you, Doc. Be good, Maggie.”

The door closed behind them. Maggie drew in a relieved breath.

Grant grasped her arm to turn her toward him. One look at his frown told her that her relief had been premature.

“What was that all about?”

She tried for a casualness she didn’t feel. “Nothing. You heard Gus. He just likes to tease me.”

“About closing down the clinic?”

She shrugged. “He has an odd sense of humor.”

“It didn’t sound like teasing to me.” His mouth was set in an uncompromising line. His determined gaze pinned her to the spot, demanding answers she wouldn’t give.

“Look.” She pulled her arm free, letting annoyance show in her face. “I can’t help what you thought it sounded like. Gus and I both know that some of the penny-pinchers in county government would be happy to close down the clinic, so they could do something else with our tax dollars. But that’s not going to happen.” Please, God.

“I’m glad you feel so confident about it.” His eyes were the blue-gray of a stormy sky.

“I do.”

He wasn’t satisfied—she could see that. But there wasn’t anything he could do. As long as he didn’t learn the truth about the Bascom children, they were safe.

“I hope you’re right, Maggie. Because I have no intention of letting the clinic be shut down while I’m in charge here.”

He tossed Aunt Elly’s chart onto the desk and stalked back toward the office. The door banged behind him.

Lord, what else could I do? I have to protect those kids.

She had to. But there was one thing she didn’t have to do any longer.

She didn’t have to worry about any more moments when attraction sparked between her and Grant. He’d obviously decided she wasn’t to be trusted.




Chapter Three


Grant prodded the limp green beans in the frozen dinner he’d just taken from the elderly oven. Saturday night, and he was dining on what looked like leftovers from the hospital cafeteria. If he were back in Baltimore, he’d probably be eating seafood at Thompson’s with friends or a date.

He glanced at the clock. Well, no. He wouldn’t have dinner anywhere near this early on a Saturday night in his normal life. Here in Button Gap, without city lights to dispel it, the November darkness seemed darker, the hour later.

Picking up his plate, he wandered into the living room and settled into the faux leather recliner in front of the television. This wasn’t exactly the right ambience for dining, but it beat sitting at the Formica table in the kitchen.

He’d been in the village for nearly a week, and he had to confess the time had gone quickly. After a couple of quiet days, things had picked up at the clinic. Routine cases, for the most part, but they had kept him busy enough to forget he was stuck in the middle of nowhere for the rest of the month.

Okay, Hardesty, stop acting like a baby. Anyone would think this was a lifetime commitment.

Three more weeks, and he’d be free to leave. So life in Button Gap wasn’t exciting. So what? The benefits to his future career certainly outweighed a little discomfort and a hefty dose of boredom.

The clinic seemed to run effectively, in spite of the jolt he’d had at hearing some county bureaucrats wanted to shut it down. Maggie had been scrupulous in following clinic procedures. She’d even exchanged her jeans and flannel shirt for a lab coat worn over a sweater to ward off the drafts that slipped through the chinks in the frame building.

At least, he’d prefer to believe the chill in the air came from the drafts. Possibly, however, the frost might be emanating from Maggie.

Had he overreacted to that overheard conversation with the deputy sheriff? Judging from the coolness she’d shown him the past few days, Maggie certainly thought so.

He didn’t have anything for which to apologize. He was the doctor, and any problems with the clinic would reflect badly on him. He could just imagine the reaction of Dr. Rawlins, the man he hoped would soon be his senior partner, to hearing that his pet project had closed down while Grant was in charge.

Still, Grant wouldn’t mind seeing Maggie’s smile again.

A knock was a welcome interruption. He swung the door open to reveal Aunt Elly, swathed in a plaid wool jacket several sizes too large, topped by a discordant plaid muffler.

“What brings you out on this cold night?” He ushered her inside and snapped off the television news.

“Cold? Wait ’til you’ve been through a winter here and then talk to me about cold.” She loosened the muffler. “I came to bring you along to pageant tryouts.”

The only thing that came to mind was Miss America. “Pageant tryouts?”

“The Christmas pageant,” she said, as if it ought to be self-explanatory. “Everybody in Button Gap comes to church the night they pick the cast, just to cheer them on.”

Apparently he couldn’t escape the holiday, no matter where he went. “I’m afraid I don’t have any dramatic talent.”

“Shoot, you don’t have to try out, boy. It’s mostly kids anyway. But you ought to jump into Button Gap life whilst you’re here. ’Sides, Maggie’s directing it.” She glanced at his discarded plate. “We have dessert after they pick all the parts, y’know. More kinds of homemade pies than you can count.”

He didn’t need any reminders of the Christmas season. On the other hand, he didn’t want to hurt the old lady’s feelings, and just about anything was better than sitting here staring at the television.

“Your company and homemade pies sounds like a winning combination.” He reached for the jacket he’d hung on the bentwood coat rack next to the door. “You’re on.”

He pulled the door shut behind them and started to take Aunt Elly’s arm to help her down the two steps to the street. She’d already trotted down herself.

“It looks like your knee is feeling better.”

She glanced up as if startled, then nodded. “It comes and goes.” She snuggled the muffler around her chin. “Smells like snow in the air.”

They crossed the quiet street. No one else seemed to have ventured outside tonight, unless the hamlet’s whole population was already at the church. He slipped his hand under Aunt Elly’s elbow.

“You and Maggie are pretty close, aren’t you?” The question came out almost before he realized he’d been thinking about Maggie.

“Everybody knows everybody in Button Gap, if they live here long enough.”

“You wouldn’t be evading the question, now, would you?”

He could almost feel her considering. She wouldn’t answer anything she didn’t want to—he felt sure of that.

She looked at him as if measuring his interest, and then seemed to make up her mind.

“Maggie lived with me for a bit, when she was eleven,” she said. “Guess that made us close, no matter how many miles or years there might be between us.”

He digested that. “But you’re not really related.”

“No.” She shrugged. “Folks round here take care of each other when there’s trouble, blood kin or not.”

The white frame church was just ahead, its primitive stained-glass windows glowing with the light from within. A chord of music floated out on the chilly air, followed by a burst of laughter.

An urgency he didn’t understand impelled him. “What kind of trouble?”

Aunt Elly stopped just short of the five steps that led up to the church’s red double doors. He felt her gaze searching his face.

Then she shook her head. “I ’spect that’s for Maggie to tell you, if she wants to.”

She marched up the steps, and he had no choice but to follow.

The small church had a center aisle with pews on either side. At a guess, the sanctuary probably seated a hundred or so. Plain white walls, simple stained glass, a pulpit that had darkened with age but had probably never been beautiful—he couldn’t imagine a greater contrast to the Gothic cathedral-style church of his boyhood.

The atmosphere was different, too. There, he recalled the hushed rustle of women’s dresses, the soft whisper of voices beneath the swelling notes of the organ. Here, laughter and chatting seemed acceptable. More than half the people in the church were children, and they trotted around as comfortably as if they were on the playground.

“Okay, come on.” Maggie, standing by the piano at the front, had to clap her hands to make herself heard over the babble of voices. The deep red sweater she wore with her jeans brought out the pink in her cheeks.

“Let’s have a look at everyone who wants to be a wise man,” she announced. “Come up front, right…”

The end of that sentence trailed off when she saw him. Fortunately, the thunder of small feet would have drowned it out anyway.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed as she looked from him to Aunt Elly. Irritation pricked him. She had no reason to look as if he didn’t belong here. He’d been invited.

He’d have slid into the back pew, but Aunt Elly grasped his arm and marched him down the aisle to near the front. Their progress was marked by murmurs.

“There’s the new doctor.”

“Young, ain’t he?”

“Hi, Doc.”

He nodded to those who greeted him and tried to ignore the other comments. He slid into the pew after Aunt Elly with a sense of relief. Then he glanced toward the front and found Maggie still watching him.

She blinked as their gazes met and turned quickly toward the children, but not before he saw her color heighten.

“Well, that’s great.” She seemed to count the small figures who bounced in front of her. “I think we need to narrow this down a bit.”

“Can’t we have more than three kings?” one of the kids asked.

It was Joey, he realized. The boy’s face shone with scrubbing and his blond hair had been plastered flat to his head.

So the little monster wanted to be one of the magi. Grant would have expected a shepherd or a donkey was more his speed.

“I don’t think—” Maggie began.

Some mischievous part of his mind prompted him. “The Bible doesn’t actually say there were three wise men,” he pointed out. “Only that there were three gifts.”

“That’s right.” The man in the pew in front of him turned, smiling, and extended his hand. “Welcome. You’d be Dr. Hardesty, of course. I’m Jim Michaels.”

Pastor Michaels, to judge by the Princeton Theological Seminary sweatshirt he wore. Grant tensed as he shook hands, and had to remind himself to relax.

“Sorry, Reverend. I didn’t mean to start a theological quarrel.”

“Jim, please.” The young minister had a wide smile, sandy hair and a faded pair of jeans to go with the sweatshirt, which looked new enough to suggest he hadn’t been out of school long. “Discussion, not quarrel.”

“I think we’ll stick with the traditional three kings,” Maggie said firmly.

She frowned at him, and he smiled back, unrepentant. This was different enough from the church he remembered that it didn’t bring up unhappy memories. And he enjoyed watching take-charge Maggie being ruffled by a crew of rug rats.

“Three kings,” she repeated, in response to a certain amount of sniveling. “But the rest of you get to be angels or shepherds. Won’t that be fun?”

As she went on with the casting, he had to admit she seemed to have a talent for making people happy. Even the most reluctant angel was brought around by the promise of having a gold halo.

Pastor Jim kept up a quiet commentary about the pageant, which Maggie seemed to tolerate with an amused smile. Unlike the look she’d darted at him when he’d intervened, he noted.

Well, presumably Pastor Jim was her friend, along with everyone else in the sanctuary. He thought again about the bombshell Aunt Elly had dropped on their walk to the church. The trouble in Maggie’s family must have been fairly serious for her to be farmed out to a neighbor at that age.

He studied Maggie’s face as she announced the parts for the pageant. Did that uncertainty in her childhood account for her fierce protectiveness toward these people? Maybe so. He knew as well as anyone the influence a childhood trauma could have on the rest of a person’s life.

“Let’s finish up with a carol before we go downstairs for dessert.” Maggie glanced toward Pastor Jim, who obediently seated himself behind the piano.

“What will it be?” he asked, playing a chord or two.

“‘Away in a Manger,’” several children said at once.

“You’ve got it.” He began to play.

Grant tried to open his mouth, to sing like everyone else.

Away in a manger, no crib for his bed.

But something had a stranglehold on his throat, and he seemed to see his brother’s face, his eyes shining in the light of a thousand candles.

He’d thought he could cope with this, but the old anger and bitterness welled up in him so strongly that it was a wonder it wasn’t written all over him.

Maggie had her arms around a couple of the children as they sang. She glanced at him, and apparently his expression caused her to stumble over a phrase.

Maybe his feelings were written on his face. All he could think was that the moment the song was over, he was out of there.



The expression on Grant’s face when the children began to sing the old carol grabbed at Maggie’s heart and wouldn’t let go. Dr. Grant Hardesty, the man she’d thought had everything, looked suddenly bereft.

She couldn’t have seen what she thought she’d seen. That glimpse into his soul shook her, rattling all her neat preconceptions about who and what he was.

The last notes of the carol still lingered on the air as people started to make their way to the church basement and the homemade pies. Grant looked as if he intended to head straight back the aisle and out the door.

Aunt Elly didn’t give him the opportunity. She grabbed his arm as soon as they stood, steering him toward the stairs at the rear of the sanctuary.

Maggie followed, shepherding the flock of children along the aisle. She was close enough to hear Aunt Elly as they reached the back of the church.

“Come along now.” She hustled him toward the stairs. “You don’t want to get last choice of the pie, do you?”

Grant was out of Maggie’s sight for a few minutes as they started down. By the time she and her charges had reached the church basement, he had resumed his cool, well-bred expression. That brief moment when she’d glimpsed an inner pain might have been her imagination, but she couldn’t quite make herself believe that.

The children scattered, some racing for the table, others searching for their parents. She hesitated. Should she go up to Grant and introduce him around? She hadn’t brought him. That was clearly Aunt Elly’s idea.

“Come on, Doc.” Isaiah Martin, looking better dressed than he had been for his clinic visit, waved toward Grant. “Get up here and pick out a slab of pie.”

Friendly hands shoved him toward the table on a wave of agreement. Feeding him was their way of welcoming him. Would he recognize that?

“Here you go, Doc.” Evie Moore slid a piece of cherry pie onto a flowered plate. “That’s my cherry pie, and you won’t find better anywhere, if I do say so myself. Those cherries come right off my tree. Now, what else will you have?”

“That’s plenty,” he began. Then he stopped, apparently realizing from the offended expressions on the other women that he’d made a strategic mistake.

He wasn’t her responsibility. Still, maybe she’d better rescue him. Maggie slipped closer.

“You’d better try all of them,” she murmured. “You wouldn’t want to insult anyone.”

“I can’t eat fourteen pieces of pie unless you want to let out my lab coats.” He slanted a smile at her, apparently not surprised to find her at his elbow. “How about getting me out of this?”

Suppressing that little flutter his smile provoked, she took a knife and split the piece of pie, sliding part onto a different plate. “Let’s give Dr. Hardesty a little sliver of each kind,” she suggested.

The pie bakers greeted that with enthusiasm. Evie might be acknowledged as the best cherry pie baker, but no one else intended to be left in the dust. Before Grant escaped from the serving line, they’d managed to add slivers of dried apple, rhubarb, lemon meringue and mincemeat pie.

Maggie helped herself to coffee, then realized that Grant had headed straight for the table where Joey sat. Her nerves stood at attention.

By now, all five hundred and three residents of Button Gap knew about the warning Gus had delivered. They were all on the lookout for Mrs. Hadley. Everyone, in other words, but Grant.

She reached the table quickly. She thought Joey understood how important it was to keep quiet about their mother’s absence, but kids were unpredictable, and it was her job to keep them safe.

Joey wore a rim of cherry around his mouth. “Sure is good pie,” he said thickly.

“You better take it easy, or you won’t be able to sleep tonight.” Relieved, Maggie slid into the seat next to Joey. Unfortunately, that put her directly across from Grant.

His level brows lifted. “Are you talking to Joey or to me?”

“Both of you.”

“You’re the one who made me accept all of this,” he protested.

“You didn’t want to insult anyone, did you?”

He glanced at the crowded plate. “If it’s that or my arteries, I think I’ll take the arteries.” He took a bite of Evie’s cherry pie, and then gave a sigh of pure pleasure. “Although this might be worth the risk.”

Their smiles entangled, and her heart rate soared.

You’re mad at him, remember? she reminded herself, but it didn’t seem to be doing any good. Maybe she’d better concentrate on finishing her dessert and getting the kids home.

Unfortunately Grant seemed to be eating at the same rate she was. He put his plate on the dish cart right behind her, grabbed his coat while she was getting the kids into theirs and walked out the door when they did.

“It’s chilly out here.” He buttoned the top button of his jacket.

She nodded. “Winter comes early in the mountains. We usually have a white Christmas.”

By Christmas, Nella would be safely home with her children, and one source of Maggie’s concern would be taken care of. By Christmas, Grant would be back in his world, probably forgetting about Button Gap the moment he crossed the county line.

The kids romped ahead of them. Joey stopped in the middle of the deserted street. He spun in a circle, his arms spread wide. “Snow!” he shouted.

Maggie looked up. Sure enough, a few lazy flakes drifted down from the dark sky.

“It is snow.” She felt the feather-light touch of a snowflake on her cheek. “Look!”

Her foot hit a pothole in the road, and she stumbled. Grant’s arm went around her in an instant, keeping her from falling.

“You’re as bad as the kids.” His voice was low and teasing in her ear. “Next thing you know you’ll be dancing in the street.”

“Is that so bad?”

She looked up at him and knew immediately she’d made a mistake. Grant’s face was very close, his eyes warm with laughter instead of cool and judging. His arm felt strong and sure, supporting her.

The laughter in his eyes stilled, replaced by something questioning, even longing. Nothing moved—no one spoke. The children’s voices were a long way off, and the world seemed to move in a lazy circle.

He was going to kiss her. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to stop it.

But she couldn’t. Whatever her reasonable, responsible brain said, her body had an entirely different agenda.

It didn’t happen. Grant seemed to wake himself, as if from a dream.

“Well, maybe we’d better say good night.” There was something almost questioning in the words.

“Yes.” She could only hope she didn’t sound as stupid as she felt. “Good night.”

She turned and ran after the children, knowing she was trying to run from herself.



Grant let out a sigh of relief as Maggie closed the outer door of the clinic behind the final patient on Monday afternoon and snapped the lock. She flipped the sign to Closed, not that it would actually stop anyone.

“Are we really done for the day?”

He’d been busier than this in the hospital emergency room, of course. Certainly he’d worked longer hours, especially as an intern. But somehow the clinic seemed a heavier responsibility, maybe because there was no one here to back him up except Maggie.

“That’s the last of them.” Maggie gathered files from the desk. “Congratulations.”

He lifted an eyebrow, trying not to think about how soft her lips looked, or how he’d almost made the mistake of kissing them on Saturday night. “For what?”

“That was a good catch on Elsie Warner’s pregnancy. Some docs wouldn’t have seen it.”

He shrugged. “Hopefully it will be nothing, but the ultrasound will tell us for sure. Better to be forewarned than caught unprepared.”

It had been routine, of course. There was no reason to feel elated at the glow of approval in Maggie’s eyes.

“Well, you did a good job. And you’ve been accepted. That steady stream of patients means that the word has gotten around that you’re okay.”

He considered that, ridiculously pleased. “Sure it wasn’t just the lure of a free checkup?”

“I told you, they don’t take charity.” She nodded toward the desk’s surface. “You now have three jars of preserves, two of honey, a pound of bacon from the hog the Travis family just slaughtered and a couple of loaves of homemade bread.”

He took a step nearer to Maggie, reminding himself not to get too close. He didn’t want to feel that irrational pull of attraction again, did he?

“So deluging me with food is the sign of acceptance in Button Gap?”

“It is.” Her full lips curved in a smile. “Don’t tell me the big-city doc actually appreciates that.”

“Hey, nobody ever brought me honey before.” He picked up a jar, holding it to the light to admire the amber color. “You sure this is safe?”

“Of course it’s safe.” Her exasperated tone seemed to set a safety zone between them. “Toby Watkins’s bees produce the best honey in the county.”

“Well, I can’t eat all this stuff on my own, and you have kids to feed. We’ll share.”

“You could take some back home to Baltimore with you when you go. Give it to your family.”

He shook his head. “My mother doesn’t eat anything but salads and grilled fish, as far as I can tell.” He grimaced. “She might gain an ounce.”

He tried to picture his cool, elegant mother in Button Gap. Impossible.

“You live with your family, do you?”

“No.” He clipped off the word. The Hardesty mansion, as cool and elegant as his mother, hadn’t been a place anyone could call home in years. But he wouldn’t tell Maggie that.

“I have an apartment close to the hospital. It only made sense to be nearby when I was doing my internship and residency.”

“Will you stay there when your month here is up?”

“Well, that depends.” He put the jar down, and his hand brushed hers. At once that awareness he’d been avoiding came flooding back.

And they were alone in the quiet room with dusk beginning to darken the windows.

Maggie cleared her throat, as if she’d been visited by the same thought. “Depends on what?”

“In a way, on what happens here.” He folded his arms across his chest, propped his hip against the table and kept talking to block feeling anything. “I’m being considered for a place in one of the best general practices in the city. The chief partner is a big supporter of the Volunteer Doctors program.”

Maggie stared at him. “Is that why you came here? To impress him?”

“He suggested it. He said volunteering would be good experience—that I’d learn to relate to patients in a whole new way.”

Actually, Dr. Rawlins had been rather more direct than that.

Technically, you’re a good doctor, Hardesty, but you keep too thick a wall between yourself and your patients. I don’t want a physician who gets too emotional, but I have to see some passion. Maybe you’ll find that if you get into a new situation.

Rawlins was the best, and Grant wanted that partnership. So he’d taken the advice, even though he wasn’t sure passion was his forte. Being a good physician ought to be enough.

“And is it working?” Maggie’s question was tart, and he remembered what she’d said about volunteers coming here to pad up their résumés.

Anger welled up, surprisingly strong. She didn’t have the right to judge him.

“What’s wrong, Maggie? Isn’t that an altruistic enough motive for you?”

She stiffened, hands pressed against the desk. “It’s none of my business why you came.”

“No? Then why are you looking at me as if you’re judging me?”

“I’m not.” She turned away, the stiffness of her shoulders denying the words. “I suppose we’re just lucky that our needs happen to coincide with yours.”

They were lucky. The people of Button Gap got his services for a month at no cost to the community, and he got the experience he needed to land the position he wanted. It was a fair exchange.

So it didn’t matter to him in the least that knowing his motives had disillusioned Maggie.

Not in the least.




Chapter Four


“You sure keeping the boy out of school is the only way of handling this?” Aunt Elly still looked worried on Tuesday morning as Maggie headed for the office.

Maggie paused, wishing she didn’t have to hide Joey away from his friends. Was she overreacting? Letting her own fear of the county social worker govern what she did with the children? The memory of the deputy’s visit was too fresh in her mind to allow her to judge.

“I know he doesn’t want to stay home.”

She glanced toward the living room, where Joey was trying to convince his siblings to play school. They didn’t seem impressed with the idea of sitting still.

“I just don’t know what else to do. If he’s in school, it’s too easy for Mrs. Hadley to find him.”

Aunt Elly gave her a searching glance, as if plumbing the depths of Maggie’s soul. “What did his teacher have to say about it?”

“She agreed it was just as well.” Nobody at the small Button Gap elementary school would want to give them away, but they also couldn’t risk running afoul of the county. “That way they’re not to blame. It’s not long until Christmas vacation anyway, and Emily Davison will tutor him. He won’t fall behind.”

“Guess maybe it’s for the best.” Aunt Elly’s agreement sounded reluctant, but really, what else could they do? “How are you going to explain it to Grant?”

Her fingers clenched. “I’m not.” She shook her head. “Honest, we can’t take the chance. He can’t know about Joey being out of school.”

“I don’t want to lie to the man.” Aunt Elly’s blue eyes darkened. “I’m not saying I won’t, in a good cause, but I surely don’t want to.”

“We can’t risk telling him the truth.” Aunt Elly might think Grant could be trusted, but Maggie wasn’t so sure. She kissed the older woman’s cheek, its wrinkles a road map of the life of service Aunt Elly had lived. “Trust me. We can’t depend on him.”

Aunt Elly nodded, clearly still troubled. “I’ll go along with you, child. But keep your mind open. The doc might be a better man than you take him for.”

Maggie slipped out the door, shrugging her jacket closer for the short walk to the clinic’s door. Aunt Elly always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt.

We can’t depend on him. She didn’t even want to depend on the man. He was an outsider, and he didn’t mean a thing to her except as an obstacle to keeping those children safe. Not a thing.

She opened the clinic door. Grant, in the hallway pulling on a lab coat, turned to her with a smile lighting his normally serious face. Her heart gave a rebellious jump.

“Morning.”

She concentrated on hanging up her jacket. What did Grant have to smile at, anyway? Certainly the last words that had passed between them the day before had been anything but friendly. She reached for her lab coat, only to find that Grant was already holding it for her.

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” His hands brushed her shoulders as she slipped the coat on.

With an effort, she steadied her breath and took a step away from him. It was just the effect of his closeness in the dim, narrow hallway—that was all. She certainly didn’t have any longing to lean against him or to rely on him. Absolutely not.

“You came in early.” She slipped past him, rounding the corner into the reception area and snapping on the overhead light.

He followed, leaning against the door frame. The harsh light picked out the fine lines around his eyes, the slant of his cheekbone. His usual neat pants, pale blue dress shirt and lab coat seemed to advertise the fact that he was out of his sphere.





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