The Doctor's Christmas (12 page)

“Let's take a walk.” His face was grim. “I have something to tell you.”

Her heart seemed to stop. Only one thing Grant might have to say would put that look in his eyes.

 

Grant could see Maggie's fear in the way she braced herself, as if preparing for a blow she knew would fall. That reminder of the abuse she'd suffered from her father dented his confidence, and for an instant he questioned himself.

He was doing the right thing—no, the only thing possible. In these circumstances, with the children's happiness at stake as well as the future of the clinic, he couldn't see any good solutions.

He could only do what his training had taught him to do. He had confidence in that, at least.

That didn't make it any easier to take a step that
would cause Maggie pain. His heart clenched again. She'd endured so much already.

They'd covered most of Main Street without speaking. Still without saying anything, they turned as if in silent agreement onto the lane that wound toward the woods. They'd come this way before, with the children, in search of that lopsided Christmas tree.

Last week's snow had gone from the roads, but it still lay in patches in the fields and the woods. Maggie tilted her head to look at the leaden sky.

“You'd better warm up your shovel. It's going to snow again.”

He followed her gaze. The clouds didn't look any worse than usual to him. “How do you know?”

“I just know.” Her lips twitched in what might have been an attempt to smile.

“Button Gap will have a white Christmas, then.”

Two days until Christmas. Would he still be here? He'd been going over the question in his mind. Technically, his stint at the clinic lasted until the end of the week, but the volunteer doctor coordinator had given him the option of leaving to spend Christmas with his family.

Not that he had any intention of doing that. Christmas in the Hardesty mansion wasn't something that would warm the cockles of anyone's heart.

Still, he could leave. No one would blame him. He didn't have to let anyone know he was back in the city until the holiday had safely passed.

“I realized I never thanked you for going to West Virginia with me.”

Maggie's voice sounded oddly formal, as if she had practiced saying that. Or maybe she was just trying to distract him from what she must know he intended to say.

“It was no problem.”

The ironic thing was that he didn't need any distracting—he was distracted enough already. The thing he had to say kept tying his tongue in knots.

No. That wasn't what tripped him up. Each time he looked at Maggie, he found himself thinking instead how incredibly dear to him she'd become in such a short time. He wanted to stop dead in the road, pull her into his arms and kiss away the tension and fear in her dark eyes. He wanted to hold her close and feel her hair like silk against his cheek.

He wouldn't. But he wanted to.

All right, he had feelings for Maggie. Their footsteps scuffed along the gravel lane in perfect tempo, as if they'd been made to walk side by side.

But a relationship between them would never work. It was not just that they were too different. Lovers could surmount that difficulty.

They wanted different things out of life. That was what it came down to, and that was why they'd only hurt each other if they tried to build a relationship.

If everything about the Bascom children came out, if the clinic were closed on his watch, he might lose the partnership with Dr. Rawlins. He faced that. He'd deal with it. That wouldn't change the kind of life he wanted, nor the kind of life Maggie needed.

Say it. Tell her.

“Maggie—”

“I was surprised to see you in church today.” She rushed into speech as if to stop him. “You don't usually come.”

“No.”

He couldn't explain to Maggie what he led him into the sanctuary that morning. No, not led. Drove. Something drove him there, in spite of every intention to the contrary. He couldn't explain, because he didn't know himself.

He only knew that a battle was going on inside him, as if some part of himself that he'd buried a long time ago had risen up and demanded attention. He realized Maggie was waiting for more of an answer than his curt negative.

“I thought I'd like to hear Jim's Christmas sermon, that's all. He's a nice guy.”

“He is. Does that mean you're leaving before Christmas?”

“No.” Sometime in the last few minutes that seemed to have been decided for him. He wouldn't be a coward. He'd stay and face the consequences of what he had to do. “I owe the clinic the rest of the week. I'll work out my days.”

Tell her. Just say it.

He stopped abruptly, catching her hand and turning her to face him. He didn't want to look at her, but he owed her that much, at least. He'd have to watch the fear in her eyes change to hate.

He pushed the words out. “I'll let the kids have Christmas with you. The day after, you have to call social services. If you don't, I will.”

S
he was losing.

Maggie leaned against the kitchen sink, staring out the window through the steam created by her breath. Snow. As she had predicted, snow was falling. It was December the twenty-fourth, and they would have snow for Christmas.

And the next day, Nella's children would be scooped up by social services. She might never see them again.

She frowned at the bird feeder on the hemlock branch. A scarlet cardinal shared seed peacefully with three chickadees and a pair of nuthatches, until a blue jay swooped in, scattering the other birds.

She'd have to send Joey out with more seed. He loved that job.

Soon Aunt Elly would come tramping cheerfully through the snow to watch the children while she went to the clinic. It might have been any ordinary
day. It would be, if she didn't know what was going to happen as soon as Christmas was past. The knowledge hung on her, weighing her down until it was an effort to move.

She should have known that this would be the end of it, from the moment Grant found out the truth about the kids. She'd thought her heart couldn't hurt anymore, but thinking about Grant brought a fresh spasm of pain.

Father, help me deal with this. Please, help me see the way.

She tried to cling to the hope that some miracle would take place, bringing Nella home for Christmas. Hope seemed to be in short supply right now.

Please, Father, give me a sign. Give me something to assure me that Nella will come back.
She rubbed her forehead, reminded of too many Biblical characters who'd asked God for a sign because they lacked in faith.
I believe, Lord. I just don't know what to do—about the children, about Nella, about Grant. Show me.

She stood still for a moment, trying to listen, and then pushed herself away from the sink. If an answer were forthcoming, it hadn't jumped into her mind yet. Maybe she'd best get on with her work, and trust God to deliver His answer in His time.

The children were awfully quiet. That couldn't be good. With a vague sense of foreboding, she walked into the living room.

The kids weren't there. But her mother's glass an
gel lay shattered on the floor beneath the Christmas tree.

She knelt, reaching carefully for the pieces. Maybe she could—

No, she couldn't. No one could put this back together again.

A tidal wave of grief threatened to drown her, and she choked back a sob. Her last tangible tie to her mother was gone.

What if God is showing you that the same is true for those children? You did ask for a sign, didn't you?

She stood quickly, shaking off the fragments of glass as she shook off the treacherous thought. No, she wouldn't let herself believe that.

“Joey, Tacey, Robby, where are you?” She raised her voice. They had to be upstairs.

A small, scraping noise from the floor above said she was right.

“Come on down here. I just want to talk to you.” Surely they knew by this time that she didn't talk with her fists, the way their father had done.

Another small sound, and then came reluctant footsteps. Tacey and Robby crept down the stairs. They halted at the far edge of the braided rug, not looking at her.

“Where's Joey?”

No answer.

She crossed to them and knelt. “Come on, guys, I'm not mad. I just want to know what happened to my angel. Did Joey knock it off the tree?”

Tacey gave an almost imperceptible nod. “He didn't mean to,” she whispered.

“Sweetie, I know that. Where is he?” She glanced up the stairs. “Joey? Come on down, okay? I'm not mad at you.”

Nothing.

She trotted up the steps, apprehension knotting her stomach. It took two minutes to search the small upstairs. Joey wasn't there.

She hurried back down, her imagination racing ahead of her. “Tacey, you need to tell me. Where is Joey?”

The child didn't answer, but she looked toward the rack where Joey's jacket should have hung. It wasn't there, and his boots were missing.

She grabbed her own jacket, then swung to look at the other two. “You stay here, all right? I'm going to get Dr. Grant to stay with you.”

They nodded, eyes wide.

She yanked the door open. The toboggan was gone from the porch. She hurried down to the yard. Joey must have left while she was upstairs dressing. She could make out small tracks, almost obliterated already by the steadily falling snow.

“Joey!” She took a breath of cold, wet air. “Joey! Answer me!”

The back door of Grant's apartment swung open. He held it wide with one arm. “What's wrong? Why are you shouting for the boy?”

She ran toward him, heart pounding. “Is Joey with you? Have you seen him?”

Grant stepped onto the porch, shaking his head. “Not this morning. Why all the fuss? He probably just came out to play in the snow.”

“Then where is he?” She spread her hands toward the empty yard. “He knows he's not to go out of the yard without permission.”

Grant lifted an eyebrow. “Aren't you overreacting a bit? He was probably excited about the snow and wanted to try out his toboggan. It wouldn't be the first time he forgot to ask permission for something.”

“This time is different.” Her sense of foreboding intensified. “He apparently knocked my angel off the tree and broke it. Maybe he was scared. He slipped out of the house while I was upstairs.”

That superior look was replaced by something that might have been concern. “I'm sorry about your angel. I know how much it meant to you. But still, he might just be hiding around the house.”

“You always like the easy answer, don't you?” That probably wasn't fair, but it was what she felt. She swung around, torn by the pull to run in several different directions at once. “I better see what I can get out of the other two.”

She couldn't ignore Grant's quick footsteps behind her as she hurried back into the house. Heedless of the snow she tracked in, she bent down, hands on knees.

“Tacey, I need to know where Joey went. Come on, now. You have to tell me.”

Tacey's lips trembled, and she pressed them together, shaking her head.

She felt Grant's hand on her shoulder, and for a fraction of a second she wanted to lean into that strong hand.

No. She couldn't. Grant had already shown he wasn't on her side. She had to do this herself.

Then Grant knelt next to her. He reached out to draw Tacey into the circle of his arms.

“Tacey, honey, you have to tell us where Joey is. I know you probably promised him you wouldn't say, but it's snowing hard outside, and he could get lost. It's not wrong to break a promise if it means helping someone else.”

His voice was soft, gentle, wringing Maggie's heart. “You know, don't you?”

Tacey nodded slowly. “He was afraid. He didn't mean to break the angel.”

“Sweetie, I know. I'm not mad.” Maggie brushed a strand of hair back from the child's forehead. “Just tell us where he went.”

Tacey sniffled, then rubbed tears away with the back of her hand. “He thought you'd be mad. He took his toboggan. He said he was going to find Mommy, and he wouldn't come back until he did.”

The words hit her like a blow. Maggie pressed her hand to her chest, as if that might ease the pain. Joey, out in the snow somewhere, searching for his mother.

She scrambled to her feet and ran to the phone.

“What are you doing?”

Grant was up, too, striding across the room to her.

“Calling Aunt Elly to stay with the kids.” She punched in the numbers. “I have to go look for him.”

“You can't do that alone.”

“No.” Fresh pain swept her heart. This was one thing she couldn't do alone. “I'll get help.”

“I'm going, too.” His tone was uncompromising.

“Fine.” She wouldn't take the time to argue. She hung up. “Aunt Elly doesn't answer, so she must be on her way. If you want to help, stay here until she comes. Then put on your warmest clothes and come to the church. We'll organize the search from there.”

She didn't give him time to answer, just grabbed her cell phone and heavy boots and ran for the door.

Help. She had to have help. The thoughts kept time to her running feet.
Please, Lord. Please.

Grant was right. This was one thing she couldn't do alone.

 

He'd never have believed a bunch of volunteers could organize so fast. Grant stood at the back of the sanctuary, watching as the fire chief assigned duties. Judging by his clothing, the man was a barber when he wasn't setting up a rescue, but he seemed cool and in control.

They weren't just fast, they were efficient. They might be volunteers, but they operated as smoothly as any professional unit he'd even seen.

The sanctuary was crowded with people, summoned by the church bell that had stopped pealing only moments ago. But it didn't matter how full the room was. His gaze was pulled to Maggie, only Maggie.

She stood at the front, close by the communion
table on which they'd spread a large-scale map of the township. Her face was tense, her body rigid. She was hurting, but she wouldn't give in to it. Not Maggie. She'd never give in.

The chief went rapidly through the grid, assigning areas. Those with snowmobiles would search the woods. Others would take the streets and roads.

Grant thought of the miles of forests on the mountains, and his fists clenched. If the boy had gone that way, what chance did they actually have of finding him, especially in this snowstorm?

Pastor Jim stepped forward. By the look of his clothes, he intended to be one of the rescue party, but he clearly had something to say in his pastoral role first. He raised his hands, and the sanctuary grew quiet.

“Friends, let's pause for a word of prayer.”

Heads bowed throughout the room.

“Eternal Father, we know that You see everything. You know where Joey Bascom is right now. We ask that You be with him, keeping him safe, and with us, leading us to him. Amen.”

Amens chorused through the sanctuary, and people moved quickly toward the doors, lining up in twos and threes. As they went out, several older women bustled in, carrying tureens and coffee urns. Clearly everyone in Button Gap had a role when things went wrong.

Grant fell into step with Maggie as she hurried toward the door. She shot him a quick, questioning look.

“You have an idea which way he's headed, don't you?”

She shrugged, trotting down the steps toward her truck. He kept pace with her.

“Don't you?” he repeated.

“I might.”

“I'm going with you.”

“You should stay here. You might be needed.” Her voice shook a little on that. If Joey was hurt, she meant.

“I can be reached on the cell phone.”

“I don't want—”

He caught her arm, turning her to face him, frustration and fear warring inside him. “Face facts, Maggie. I know you want to do everything by yourself, but you can't. If you do find him, you'll need someone along to help. Like it or not, I'm going with you.”

He could see emotion surging beneath the surface, but she set her mouth and nodded. She jerked a nod toward the truck, and he scrambled in.

She whipped down the street, then turned onto the narrow back road they'd taken the day they'd gone to help the injured man back in the woods. The windshield wipers fought against the thick, wet snow—huge flakes that piled up swiftly and would hamper the search.

“Why do you think he came this way?” If he didn't pump her, he didn't think she'd say a word.

“We were out by my family's house one day in the fall. I pointed out the logging trail that went over
the mountain.” Her face lost a little more color, if possible. “He'd know we'd look along the main road. I can't be sure, but it's worth a try.”

Poor Maggie. She had something else to blame herself for. “You couldn't imagine these circumstances. It's not your fault.”

“It's my responsibility.”

The truck skidded as she took a bend too fast, and she fought the wheel. He grabbed it, helping her regain control.

“Take it easy. We can't help him if we smash ourselves up.”

If she heard, she didn't acknowledge his words. She seemed to force the truck on by sheer willpower, barreling through the thickly piled snow. He braced his hand against the dash, sure they'd end up smashed against a tree, but she kept it going somehow.

If they didn't find Joey safe… He couldn't begin to see all the ramifications of that. Plenty of lives would be smashed then, that he knew.

The truck barreled along, its cab a warm cocoon protecting them from the storm. They reached the turnoff to the house where she'd once lived. The dilapidated mailbox still hung from its post, but the lane was drifted shut.

She hesitated, gunning the motor, and he grabbed her hand.

“Don't, Maggie. We'll need the truck usable if we find him. We'll have to walk in.”

She held out against him for a moment, and then she nodded. “You're right.”

She turned off the motor and slid out of the cab. He followed suit, slogging around the truck.

Maggie stared at the narrow lane. “What if I'm wrong? He may not be anywhere near here.”

He spotted faint traces in the snow. “Look. The toboggan could have made those marks.”

She looked doubtful. “It could have been an animal.” She pulled out her cell phone, then shoved it back in her pocket. “We'd better find out for sure before we call people off any other area.”

Nodding, he pulled his collar up and struck into the lane. He sank to above his knees at the first step. “It'll be slow going.”

“I know.” She was right behind him, her face set and determined.

He struggled on a few more arduous steps, apprehension growing. Maybe those had been animal tracks.