The Doctor's Christmas (14 page)

He didn't want to go back. Didn't want to see anyone, speak to anyone. He particularly didn't want to see Maggie.

Maggie.

He shoved his fists into his pockets and looked up at the dark mountainside. His anger flared again, white-hot. How dare she say those things? She should be grateful to him instead of attacking him.

Maggie wouldn't see it as an attack, of course. She thought she was helping, as if taking a scalpel to his soul could possibly help him.

He'd spoken the truth, and she hadn't been able to take it. She couldn't accept the fact that he'd chosen to live his life cut off from God.

Maggie didn't understand. She didn't know what it was like, how he felt…

Didn't she?

Shame burned into him. Maggie was probably the
only person who knew what he felt. She was certainly the only one he'd revealed anything to in years.

And Maggie couldn't be accused of having life easy. After what she'd gone through, how did she even manage to get up in the morning, let alone carve out a full, useful life for herself?

He knew the answer she'd give if he asked her the question. The one she called Father had brought her through it. She didn't see why the same didn't apply to him.

Because I can't forgive You.

The thought, coming from somewhere deep inside him, shocked him with its bone-deep honesty. Maybe he'd been kidding himself about a lot of things, but that, at least, was true. He hadn't forgiven God for taking Jason.

Those last days, with nurses taking over the house and running their lives—the images flooded in upon him. They hadn't let him see Jason. He'd curled miserably behind the drapes in the hall window seat, where he could watch the door to Jason's room, waiting for a chance to sneak in and see him.

The last day had been like this one—snow in the air, and the dusk drawing in early. Shadows had filled the hallway, as if they waited, too.

Save him.
He'd gone beyond tears, beyond bargaining, beyond demanding. All his prayers had come down to those two words.
Save him.

Now he glared up at the darkening sky, not sure whether he was the hurting boy or the grown man.
You took away the person who meant the most to me. What do You want from me now?

There wasn't an answer now. Any more than there'd been an answer then.

Maybe it was better not to believe God existed. Then, at least, he'd have known there wasn't any hope.

The cold seeped through the soles of his boots, into his bones, into his soul. He turned, looking back toward Button Gap.

Lamps were on now, glowing warmly in windows. The strings of Christmas lights on the tree in front of the post office blinked red and green, and the stained-glass windows of the church gleamed like jewels against the white snow that blanketed the village.

Above, the mountains loomed dark and cold, but the first star made a pale point of light.

He exhaled, watching his breath form steam in the air. Still. Silent. Nothing moving, nothing speaking. Nothing touching him. He was as cold and isolated as the star.

Something floated toward him through the dusk. The notes of the piano, then the treble of children's voices.

“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright…”

It was Christmas Eve. The children were practicing for the pageant that would begin in another hour.

Maggie would be there, directing them and smiling as if nothing had happened. She probably expected him to walk in and take his place in the pew, pretending everything was normal.

He couldn't.

You don't have to stay.
The thought formed without volition.
No one expects you to work out the week. You can pack and go. You never have to think of Button Gap and Maggie again.

Even now he couldn't convince himself that he'd dismiss Maggie from his thoughts so easily. But he could leave.

He started walking, his footsteps making little sound on the snow-packed lane. He'd pack and leave. He didn't have to go to his parents' house. He could hole up in a hotel somewhere until the holiday was safely over.

You can go straight back into that hard, cold shell of yours.
He hadn't managed to get Maggie's voice out of his head yet. He'd have to try harder.
You can let your white coat insulate you from caring.

Leave me alone.
He didn't know if he was speaking to Maggie or to the God he wasn't sure he believed in.
Just leave me alone.

“B
less all the dear children in Thy tender care, and fit us for heaven to live with Thee there.”

The final notes of the old carol died away, and the children looked at Maggie expectantly.

“Wonderful.” She managed to smile. “That's perfect. Just you sing it that way in the performance, and everyone will absolutely love it.”

People were already filtering into the pews, talking softly so as not to disturb the rehearsal. They didn't mind that they'd see and hear the same thing again in half an hour. This was part of Christmas for them.

“Okay.” She clapped her hands. “You can go and get your costumes on now. Mind, no running. I don't want any broken angel wings.”

Released, the children scrambled off the chancel steps, toward the helpers who had costumes spread out over the pews. For a second she could breathe. She could think.

Maybe it would be better not to have time to think. In only a moment of quiet, the pain surged back out of hiding, ready to sink sharp teeth into her again.

“And fit us for heaven, to live with Thee there.”

Grant's brother had lived those words the children sang so cheerfully. Surely God's hands had been around him, safe and comforting, in those last minutes.

Grant had been the one left alone and uncomforted. A fresh spasm of pain gripped her, tinged with guilt. She'd been so judgmental of him when they'd first met.

Forgive me, Lord. You know how often I fall into that same sin. You must be tired of hearing me confess it.

She'd thought she knew who Grant was—wealthy, privileged, taking his easy life for granted and perfectly willing to use a month in Button Gap to get something he wanted.

She hadn't been willing, or able, to look beneath the surface for the pain that lived there. She, of all people, should know how often a calm exterior could hide a raging grief. She'd been there most of her life, and her own shield had been hard-won.

She hadn't bothered to look for what Grant was hiding, until life, in the form of the Bascom family, had forced both of them into sharing things they'd otherwise never have told each other. Now she knew him all the way through.

She understood his pain. And he wouldn't let her do one thing to help him with it.

She squeezed her eyes closed, shutting out the kaleidoscope of children, costumes, Christmas tree, chattering adults.

Help him, Father. I can't. I wanted to, but he wouldn't let me. He's going away, and I can't do anything to make a difference.

Cold certainty gripped her. Grant would go away. He might be on his way already.

Please, Father. I've lost any chance I had.

She struggled to see her way through the days ahead. She'd do what she had to do—try to help the Bascoms, try to keep the clinic running. She'd keep putting one foot in front of the other, and one day, unlikely as it seemed right now, she'd be happy again.

Be with him, Lord. Hold him in Your hands.

That felt like a benediction, but with it came some small measure of peace. She'd done everything she could. The rest was up to the Father.

Aunt Elly slipped an arm around her waist. “Are you okay, child?”

She took a shaky breath. She hadn't told Aunt Elly yet. She hadn't told anyone, but she'd have to. They wouldn't understand why Grant wasn't here for the pageant.

“I'm all right. But Grant—” Her throat closed.

Aunt Elly squeezed her. “He's fighting something, isn't he?”

She nodded. “I wanted to help. I'm afraid I just made things worse. He's probably packing to leave right now.”

“Have you turned it over to God?”

Had she? Maggie searched for any reservation, any self-interest clouding her prayers for Grant.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I have.”

“That's all we can do, then.” She pressed her cheek against Maggie's. “Have faith, Maggie. Maybe you planted the seed that will make a change in his life. We're not always called to see the harvest, you know. Just to be faithful in planting the seed.”

Aunt Elly had certainly done that in her own life. Now it was up to Maggie to do the same.

“I know.” Her smile felt more genuine. “Well, let's get those children dressed. What have you done with Joey?”

Aunt Elly pointed to the front pew. Joey, nestled in a pile of cushions, reclined like a sultan, his arm positioned carefully in its sling. He was a little pale, but he grinned when he saw her looking at him.

“You didn't think we'd be able to keep him away, did you? He says he's going to make sure the substitute king does it right.”

She actually felt like laughing, something she'd thought it would take years to accomplish. “He'll probably scare the poor kid into making a mistake, more likely.”

“It's going to be all right.” Aunt Elly sounded sure of herself. “It always is.”

“True enough.” No matter what mistakes anyone made, the pageant still always announced its eternal truth to hearts willing to hear it. “I guess—”

She stopped, realizing that a hush had fallen over the sanctuary. The door swung to with a clatter.

She turned, looking toward the back of the sanctuary to see who had come in. Looked, identified and felt her heart freeze in response.

Mrs. Hadley, the county social worker, stood just inside the door. Gus Foster, looking harassed and reluctant but official in his deputy's uniform, stood beside her.

Mrs. Hadley didn't look harassed or reluctant. She looked triumphant.

The children—

From the corner of her eye, Maggie saw Evie Moore drop an angel gown over Tacey's head and sweep Robby behind her with a deft movement.

Brave, but futile. Maggie's mind scrambled for ways to get the children out, even as she recognized the impossibility of it all. Joey, immobilized in his nest of cushions, couldn't be hidden, and Mrs. Hadley's eagle eye had probably already identified the other two.

Help.
She couldn't seem to manage anything else in the way of a prayer, and Mrs. Hadley was advancing down the center aisle like a Sherman tank, flattening anything and anyone that dared to be in its path.
Help!

“Margaret Davis.” The woman rumbled to a stop dead center. “I thought it would be you.”

“Mrs. Hadley.” It was a sign of recognition between enemies, as if flags dipped before a battle. “Have you come for the pageant?”

The woman swelled. “I've come for the Bascom
children, as you well know. You've been hiding them from me.”

Not from social services, Maggie noted, even as her mind ran this way and that, searching for a way out. For Mrs. Hadley, this was personal. Was the woman still trying to assert her authority over the rebellious eleven-year-old Maggie had once been?

“I don't know what you mean.”

Maggie felt Pastor Jim move up next to her. She sensed the rest of Button Gap arranging itself behind her. It was a good sensation.

Unfortunately, that support wouldn't be enough. Mrs. Hadley had brought the law with her. Gus didn't want to be here—that was clear from his hangdog expression. He had better things to do with his Christmas Eve. But he'd do his duty, like it or not.

Mrs. Hadley's eyes were small and mean behind her wire-rimmed glasses. She hadn't changed, it seemed to Maggie, in the past two decades. She'd gotten a little grayer, a little meaner, a little fatter.

Maggie had once looked at her bulk and seen a mountain of a woman, terrifying in her power. The power was still there, but she wouldn't allow herself to be terrified any longer.

Mrs. Hadley sent a commanding glance toward Gus. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

“We're here to pick up the Bascom kids.” There was an apology in the look he gave Maggie. “Seems Mrs. Hadley's office has some information that Nella Bascom ran off and left those kids.”

“Ran off?” Maggie raised her eyebrows, trying for
a composure she didn't feel. “Just because Nella went on a trip doesn't mean she deserted her children.”

“Certainly not.” Pastor Jim waded in. “Nella left her children in Maggie's care when she had to go away for a while. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“That's what I've been saying.” Gus looked relieved at the pastor's intervention, undoubtedly seeing it as a way out of a situation he disliked. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing wrong?” Mrs. Hadley gave him a contemptuous look. “You'd take anything these people said as gospel and use it as an excuse not to do your duty.”

Gus stiffened. “I don't need nobody telling me how to do my duty. If the woman deserted her kids, I'll help you take them in. But seems like we've got a dispute about that.”

“Nella asked me to take care of her children while she was away. I said yes.” Maggie hoped she sounded as if that would be an end to it.

“If that's the case, where is she?” Mrs. Hadley fired the question like a dart. “If you're taking care of her children for her, you must know where she is.”

“She had to go back to West Virginia.” She chose her words carefully. “She has family there.”

“That's right,” Aunt Elly chipped in. “We all know Nella's family's from West Virginia.”

Mrs. Hadley dipped into her bag and pulled out a cell phone. She held it out to Maggie with a malicious gleam in her eyes. “Then you know how to reach
her. Call her, now. If she tells me what you're saying is true, I'll leave it alone. For the moment.”

There was the challenge. Mrs. Hadley would only make it if she felt sure Maggie couldn't do just that.

And she couldn't.
Oh, Nella. Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me where you are?

The cell phone waved in the air between them. Mrs. Hadley's air of triumph grew. Her tongue snaked out to moisten her lips, as if she tasted victory.

“Take it.” Aunt Elly's voice was soft in her ear. “Call Grant. We need him.”

Just the sound of his name was an arrow in her heart.
We don't,
she wanted to say.
We don't need him. He walked away from us. He's leaving.

Is that really the reason? The question dropped quietly into her mind. Is that the reason, or is it because you don't want to admit you need him?

Her instant response told her the truth. Grant didn't need her. She didn't want to need him. She couldn't rely on him.

But she had to.

 

Grant slammed the back of the SUV on all the belongings he'd brought with him to Button Gap. He was ready to go. There was nothing to keep him here any longer.

He glanced toward the church. It must be time for the pageant to start. Maybe it was already under way. All of Button Gap would be gathered there. He was the only holdout.

Well, he wasn't part of Button Gap. He never had been.

His cell phone rang, a shrill, imperative summons. For an instant he was tempted to ignore it. He couldn't.

He snapped the phone open. “Hardesty.”

“Mrs. Hadley is here.” Maggie's voice was a whisper—a frightened whisper. “Come to the church. Please. We need you.” A slight hesitation. “I need you.”

“Maggie?”

The connection was broken.

He stared at the phone, then turned to stare at the church. Mrs. Hadley was there. Maggie needed him.

He could slide behind the wheel and drive away. He didn't have to be involved in this. The roof was falling in on Maggie's scheme, and all he had to do was drive away.

He couldn't, any more than he'd been able to ignore the call. He couldn't shut Button Gap out of his life, like it or not. Not yet.

He jogged across the street toward the church. Maggie had called him. Maggie had asked for his help.

That was the strangest thing. Maggie—determined, fiercely independent Maggie—wanted his help. She'd actually put away her pride and asked for help.

Could he give it? He paused at the foot of the church steps, gripping the railing.

He'd told himself all along that calling social services would be best for those children. He'd let him
self be manipulated into the conspiracy to hide them, knowing all along that he shouldn't.

Now it had been taken out of his hands—out of all their hands. Mrs. Hadley was there. Presumably she knew about the Bascom kids. What should he do, even if he could?

Isn't this for the best?
With a sense of shock, he realized he was speaking to the God he'd been trying so hard to ignore.
Isn't turning those kids over the right thing? They're not my responsibility.

Why not?
The voice seemed to whisper in his heart.
Why aren't they your responsibility?

Because when I looked at Joey, hurt and helpless, all I could see was my brother. I can't take responsibility for them, don't You see that? What do You want from me?

All of you.
The answer rang through him.
All of you. Not just your skill as a doctor. All of you.

He bent over, his breath coming as if he'd been running. The cold air seared his lungs. He couldn't. He couldn't give in, couldn't trust. He'd trusted God with Jason, and look what had happened.

Jason is safe in God's hands.
That was what Maggie's message had been, and the words resounded, refusing to leave him alone.

If that was true, how could he go on using his brother as a reason not to take responsibility for another child?

He straightened slowly, looking at the church door, feeling its pull. Quickly, without letting himself think of possible consequences, he ran up the steps, pulled the door open and ran inside.