The Doctor's Christmas (8 page)

She straightened, leaned back, tried to find a way to meet his gaze that wouldn't betray the fact that he'd cut right through all her defenses as if they were butter.

Grant looked at her with a question in his eyes, as if leaving it to her to say how they would respond to this.

“I don't think that was a good idea.” She tried for a light touch and feared she failed.

“Right.” He pulled back an inch or two, his smile chilling to something impersonal. “We have to work together. No sense complicating things.”

That was what she thought herself, so why did it bother her so much when he put it into words? She tried to get her wits about her. This was for the best.

“You'll be leaving Button Gap before long, anyway.”

“Speaking of leaving—” he glanced at his watch, then got to his feet “—I think it's time I went home.”

“You don't have to go just because—”
Just because you kissed me.
“The power might not come back on for hours.”

He shrugged into his jacket. “I'll be fine. A little
cold air might be just the thing right now.” A few strides took him to the door, and then he paused. “Don't worry about it, Maggie. It was just the firelight.”

She nodded, pinning a smile on her face as he went out into the dark.

Just the firelight.
She'd like to believe that. She really would.

 

Grant paused in the clinic's hallway, studying the chart for the next patient. Unfortunately he wasn't exactly thinking about the patient. Maggie's face kept imposing itself on the medical form, looking the way he'd seen it the previous evening with her eyes dark in the firelight.

He'd kissed her. No big deal. It had been a temporary aberration, brought on by the situation. In the cold light of day, they were both quite ready to forget it ever happened.

Something else had come out of their enforced, snowbound isolation. He and Maggie knew each other considerably better than they had before it happened. He wasn't sure yet whether that was good or bad.

He glanced toward the desk, where Maggie was leaning over the counter to talk with someone in the waiting room. She'd had to go through a lot to become a nurse. That protectiveness of hers was an asset, and so was her fierce determination. She'd probably never have succeeded without those qualities.

As for the faith that came through in every aspect of her life—well, it was one more barrier between
them. If the God he'd once trusted did indeed exist, He'd have to be satisfied with Grant devoting his life to healing, because that was all he had to offer.

The bottom line was that he'd learned to respect Maggie, even to want her friendship. But it was just as well that they both understood anything else was out of the question. He pushed open the exam room door and put her firmly out of his mind.

Three patients later, he was checking out an elderly man with chronic bronchitis when the exam room door flew open.

“We have an emergency out in the woods.” Before he could react, Maggie was handing him his jacket. “We have to go now.”

“Wait a second.” He frowned. “What kind of emergency? I'm in the middle of seeing a patient.”

Maggie gave the elderly man a quick smile. “Harold understands, don't you, Harold?”

The patient was already sliding off the exam table and reaching for his shirt. “Sure thing, Maggie. You folks go on. I'll see the doc later.”

As soon as he'd cleared the door, Maggie began filling a bag with supplies.

“The call just came in. A logger, badly hurt, out near Boone's Hollow. The helicopter can't land anywhere near them, so we'll have to go.”

“Any idea of the type of injuries?” He pulled the jacket on, automatically double-checking the equipment she was packing.

She shook her head. “His partner called, badly shaken. Thank goodness for cell phones. It sounds as
if his leg is trapped, and he's bleeding heavily. I gave them emergency instructions before I lost the signal.”

Maggie's face was grim, and every move was swift and efficient. She'd undoubtedly done this before.

By the time they reached the waiting room, it was already clearing out.

“I'll lock up,” one woman offered. Her face was vaguely familiar. One of the pie bakers from the pageant rehearsal, he thought.

“Thanks, Mavis.” Maggie just kept moving, apparently confident the woman would handle things.

“I'll start the prayer chain,” the woman added. She touched his arm as he went by. “Good luck, Doc.” It was oddly like a blessing.

Outside, he started automatically toward his vehicle, but Maggie was already yanking open the door of her battered truck instead.

“We can take mine—” he began, but she shook her head as she stowed the bag behind the seat.

“You don't want to get yours all scratched up, even if it could make it.” She patted a dented fender. “She might not look pretty, but she'll get us there.”

She slid behind the steering wheel.

He suppressed the automatic desire to question her decision. Maggie knew the way, presumably, and he didn't. He was on her turf. He climbed in next to her.

Maggie took off down the still-slushy street, then turned onto the road that went up the mountain. In just a few minutes the dense woods closed in on them on both sides of the snow-covered road.

Road? Grant braced himself with one hand against
the dash as the truck hit a rut. It was hardly more than a track.

He glanced at Maggie. “Sure you know the way?”

She nodded, eyes narrowed as she searched the road ahead. “I used to live in this area. I know every foot of it.”

Weak sunshine had melted most of the snow from the streets in the village, but here the mountain loomed over them, casting its perennial shadow. Hemlock branches bowed down with snow slapped the sides of the truck, as if intent on keeping them out. He had a sense of entering a bleak, unforgiving and very alien world.

Nonsense. He shook off the thought. This was an emergency call, nothing more. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd be doing this, but it should have. Out here, they were the first line of medical defense. He looked again at Maggie, and she seemed to feel his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Then, as they slid around a bend, he realized that wasn't true. There was something. “You were right about the truck. You're much more capable of driving this than I am.”

The expression in her eyes told him how surprised she was at his admission. Had he really been so arrogant that she thought him incapable of admitting it when he was wrong?

The road narrowed still more, so that the truck seemed to force its way through the overhanging branches. He spotted a broken mailbox tilting list
lessly on a post by a lane that was nothing more than a thread through the forest. Davis, it read in faded letters.

“That was where you lived?”

She nodded, her jaw tight with tension. “About a mile hike back.”

He whistled. “Your parents must have liked their privacy.”

“My father did.” She clamped her mouth shut on the words.

He had just enough time to wonder if she'd ever tell him what it was about her past that pained her so when she turned in by another mailbox.

“We're almost there. The patient is Jake Riley, about forty, good general health, no existing conditions to worry about. His wife said she'd post the boy by the lane to show us where they are.”

Even as the words were out of her mouth, he spotted the small figure ahead of them, waving. Grant grabbed the medical bag and slid out as Maggie pulled to a stop.

She was by his side almost before his feet hit the ground, it seemed. “Where are they?”

The boy, his face tearstained, pointed to a thick growth of woods. “That way. Hurry. You gotta hurry!”

Grant started toward the trees, adrenaline pumping, his legs churning through the heavy snow. Maggie was right beside him, keeping pace with him. He had a moment's thought for the probable reaction of his hospital colleagues if he tried to describe the situation.

They wouldn't believe it. He hardly believed it himself, but one thing he recognized. He could count on Maggie without question, without doubt. Whatever awaited them, she wouldn't let him down.

B
lades whirling, the Life Flight helicopter lifted off, carrying the patient to the hospital where a surgical team waited. Maggie tilted her head back to watch it clear the trees, smiling at the spontaneous round of applause from those who watched from the ground.

Thank You, Lord. Thank You.

“He's going to be fine now.” Grant held the wife's hands in both of his, his tone reassuring. “Don't worry. They'll take good care of him.”

The woman murmured incoherent thanks, then walked away with the neighbor who was driving her to the hospital. The rest of the small group moved, in ones and twos, toward the trucks and snowmobiles that had brought them.

Grant stood watching them for a moment, his expression bemused.

“Where did they all come from?” He nodded toward the plow driver who'd cleared enough space for
the helicopter to land. “I thought we were alone in the most desolate place on the planet. Suddenly people appeared out of nowhere.”

We're never alone.
She wanted to say the words aloud, but she wouldn't, not given the way Grant tensed whenever the subject of faith came up.

“Word spreads fast when someone needs help,” she said instead. “One person calls another, he calls another. Anyone who can help just comes.”

“In the city, we'd rely on the professionals in a situation like this.”

She wasn't sure whether that was an oblique criticism or a compliment. Maybe it was just a statement of fact.

“We're the only professionals out here.” She leaned against the truck. “Everyone else helps because they're needed, I guess. Because they know people would do the same for them.”

She stamped her feet, feeling the cold for the first time in the past hour. She'd been too busy to notice, but now it seeped through her boots and invaded the space between her hat and her collar.

“We owe them a vote of thanks.” Grant raised his hand as a truck spun by them. “He might not have made it without their help.”

She looked at him, noting the pinched lines around his mouth and the strain in his eyes.

“He definitely wouldn't have made it without you.” A shiver went through her. It had been a close thing, a very close thing. “I couldn't have done it. If you hadn't been here, we'd have lost him.”

He caught her mittened hand in a strong grip and held it for a moment. “I wouldn't be so sure of that. You did a good job, Maggie.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly she didn't feel quite so cold.

She climbed into the truck and started the motor, cranking the heater on all the way. Grant settled next to her, rubbing his hands together as if they'd never be warm. She watched as the last vehicle spun away, then pulled onto the road.

She could feel Grant's gaze on her face.

“I meant that, you know. You're a good nurse.”

Most of the time she didn't even think to question that. It was who she was. But sometimes, it felt good to hear it from someone else.

“Thanks.” She darted a sideways glance at him. “I meant what I said, too. Your skill saved him.”

And his determination. She'd already known Grant was a skilled doctor. She just hadn't seen that fierce will of his brought to bear. He wouldn't
let
the patient slip away. That glimpse into his soul had startled and moved her.

He pulled his gloves off and held his hands out to the warm air streaming from the heater. “Let's just say we can all be proud of what we did today.”

She
was
proud—of her people, who'd done just what she'd known they'd do. Of Grant, who'd shown her a passion she hadn't expected.

She took the turn onto the main road. The snow was melting from it now, leaving bare ruts where other vehicles had gone. It was only early afternoon. The whole episode had taken less than two hours, but
it felt like a lifetime since they'd raced out of the clinic.

“Okay,” she said. “We all did a good job. But if what you did today was the only thing you accomplished during your month here, it would be enough.”

His face relaxed in a smile. “We make a good team.”

The words repeated themselves in her mind as she drove the rest of the way to the village.
A good team.

She'd like to believe she and Grant were a team, but she knew better. Still, if she could ever care enough about someone to risk marriage, it would have to be with someone who would treat her as a partner. Someone who could respect her independence because he didn't doubt his own strength. Someone like Grant.

Not Grant, she told herself quickly. That was out of the question. But someone like him.

Why not him?
A little voice whispered the question in her mind.
Why not Grant?

She knew the answer to that one. It would never work. They'd both recognized that flare of attraction between them, and they'd both seen that it had to be extinguished.

Well, no. If she were being honest, she'd have to say she hadn't succeeded in extinguishing it. Not when she still felt a little flutter in her heart at the brush of his hands and the curve of his smile.

Controlled, then, she told herself firmly, and tried to ignore the faint flicker of hope that teased her heart and refused to go away.

 

Grant pulled his jacket on, fighting the strong inclination to flop down in the recliner and zip aimlessly through the channels. He hadn't realized how tired he was until after they'd treated the string of patients who'd had to be put off for the emergency run.

He zipped his jacket and glanced into the refrigerator. Everything. He was out of everything. That was why he was about to trek to the store instead of relaxing after the long day.

It had been long, but also very satisfying. They'd done good work, he and Maggie. As he'd told her, they made a good team.

Nevertheless, he absolutely wouldn't let himself think of Maggie in any terms but professional. They were colleagues. Nothing more. He might have given in to temptation for one kiss, but he wouldn't make that mistake again. It wasn't fair to either of them.

The kids were making a racket in the backyard. He grabbed his car keys, swung the door open and took a snowball right in the chest.

The action in the snow-covered yard froze. Maggie, bundled up in that red anorak that made her look like a cardinal, seemed almost as horrified as Joey. The kid's expression was so guilty that it was clear who'd thrown the snowball.

It hurt his heart to see the fear mixed with the guilt in the boy's face. He had to find a way to wipe that out.

He shoved his keys into his pocket and grabbed a
handful of snow from the porch railing. “You want a battle, do you?” He packed the ball and threw it, and snow splattered on Joey's shoulder.

Fear faded, and the kid grinned. “You call that a snowball? Where'd you learn how to make snowballs, anyway?”

“It doesn't snow in Baltimore.” Maggie rounded a snowball in her bare hands. “Not much, anyway. He hasn't had enough practice. We'll have to show him some snowballs.”

“Yeah, show him.” Joey scooped up snow, while Tacey and Robby watched, hanging back a little.

“Don't you dare.” He gave Maggie a mock-fierce glare. “Just put that snowball down and step away from it.”

She wiggled it in her fingers. “Want it? Come and get it.”

He charged, taking the snowball in the face and shaking it off as he grabbed her. “For that, you get your face washed with snow.”

“Get him.” Joey ran at him, pitching his snowball and bending to scoop up more snow to toss.

In an instant, all three kids were pelting him with snow, their shyness forgotten. Ducking, laughing, he managed to grab a handful. He clung tight to Maggie's sleeve as she struggled to break free and managed to get some snow right in her face before she returned the favor.

Breathless, he mopped snow from his eyes, then realized he was holding her too close. Her face was
inches from his, her dark eyes bright with laughter, her cheeks flushed. He wanted to kiss her. Again.

He let her go, turning to chase Joey across the yard. But he'd better stop kidding himself that resisting the temptation was going to be easy.

“Enough,” Maggie called, laughing as he rolled Joey in a snowdrift, tickling him. “Let's use all this energy to make our snowman and let Dr. Grant get back to whatever he was going to do.”

“You wanna make a snowman with us, don't you?” Joey dusted himself off. “It's gonna be the biggest one ever.”

He ought to go to the store, get some groceries and watch the news. But his tiredness had miraculously vanished, and he wanted to play in the snow.

“You bet,” he said.

Maggie's glance was questioning. “Are you sure about this? You must be tired after the day we put in.”

“You, too. But you're doing it.” He bent, packing a snowball and rolling it through the deep, soft snow. “Besides, I'm out of practice.”

Tacey scurried to help him roll the ball. “Didn't you used to make snowmen when you were little?”

That was probably the most she'd ever said to him, and he discovered that it gave him pleasure to think she considered him safe.

“Well, like Maggie said, it doesn't snow very much in Baltimore, where I grew up.”

Her little face wrinkled in a frown. “Why not?”

“Well, it's close to the ocean.” Meteorology had
never been one of his best subjects. “It's not up high, like we are here in the mountains. We get a little bit of snow, but not usually enough to make snowmen.”

“But didn't you ever get to?” Her mournful expression said that she thought he'd been deprived.

He scoured his memory. Suddenly a scene popped up, as clear and bright as if it had happened yesterday.

“I remember one time that I did.” He looked down at Tacey, but instead of her face, he saw Jason's. “It was an unusual storm. They'd predicted rain, but it snowed and snowed. My little brother and I got off school because of it, and we decided to build a snowman.”

“I didn't know you had a brother.” Maggie dusted snow from her red mittens.

He felt the familiar tightening inside him, felt the urge to shut all the doors on his memories and pretend he hadn't said anything.

But that wouldn't be fair to the little girl, who'd brought it up quite innocently. Or to Maggie, who was just expressing interest in him.

“He was two years younger than I am. Jason.” After so many years of not saying it, the name felt strange coming out of his mouth.

Maggie got the implication of the verb tense he'd used. He saw the recognition in her eyes.

“You and Jason made a snowman,” Tacey prompted. “Was it a big, big snowman?”

“Well, it was pretty big.” He measured with his hand. “About this high. Why don't we see if we can make one that big today?”

“We can do it,” Joey said quickly. “I'll make this ball really big to go on the bottom.” He scuffed through the trampled snow, rolling the ball ahead of him. The other two children ran to help him.

“I'm sorry,” Maggie said softly. “I didn't know.”

He wasn't surprised at her expression of sympathy. He
was
surprised at the overwhelming urge he had to pour out the whole story.

Do you want to know why I'm angry at God, Maggie? Do you want to hear about a sweet, loving child who didn't have a chance to grow up?

The thoughts burned in his mind. It would be a relief to say them, to let them pour out in a corrosive flood.

But he wouldn't. Saying those things would take his friendship with Maggie to a whole new plane, and it was a place where he never intended to go. Not with Maggie. Not with anyone.

“We'd better help the kids. That's getting too big for them to push.”

Maggie nodded, accepting without words that he'd put the subject off-limits. She ran toward the children, her jacket a bright crimson splash against a white backdrop.

He followed. What on earth had possessed him to let his guard down so far? Button Gap seemed to be turning his life upside down.

Maybe it wasn't just Button Gap. Maybe it was Maggie.

 

“Seems like you're pretty taken with the new doc.” Aunt Elly leaned against the kitchen counter
the next morning and gave Maggie that look that probed to the bottom of her soul.

“I don't know what you mean.” That sounded feeble, even to her. She didn't want to talk about Grant—didn't want to think about how deep her feelings for him might be.

“Oh, I 'spect you do, but if you don't want to talk yet, I'll leave it be.”

Maggie shrugged into her jacket. “I'd better get to the office. You sure you don't mind staying with the children this morning?”

“You know I don't.” Aunt Elly gave the oatmeal she was cooking another stir, filling the kitchen with such a warm, homey smell that Maggie wanted to sit back down instead of stepping out into the cold. “But, Maggie, how long are you going to go on taking care of those young'uns? Nella should be coming back here by this time.”

Maggie paused, hand on the doorknob. As usual, Aunt Elly went right to the heart of the matter. “I thought she'd be back by now.” She looked at the older woman, troubled. “I talked to her when she called the kids last night. Asked her. All she could do was cry.”

Aunt Elly shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “Poor child. That man beat her down, all right. I know you figure she ought to come back on her own, but maybe that's not going to happen. Maybe you'll have to go after her. You've got a pretty good idea where she is, don't you?”

“I think I do, but I could be wrong.” She rubbed her forehead, feeling the tension that took up residence whenever she thought of Nella. “I keep going over and over it, trying to see the best thing to do. If I go after her, I'm afraid she'll never really be sure she'd have come back on her own. Besides, what excuse could I give Grant for taking off?”