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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.”
