The Doctor's Christmas (15 page)

G
rant stepped inside the sanctuary and paused, assessing the situation. The pews of the small church were filled with people. All of Button Gap had come to spend Christmas Eve watching the children's pageant.

Instead, they were seeing a pageant of a different sort.

Maggie stood at the front of the sanctuary, the deep red of her sweater making the pallor of her face more pronounced. Pastor Jim, next to her, had distress written across his countenance.

The woman opposite them looked ready to take on all comers, hands planted on her hips, brows drawn down, eyes glinting behind her glasses. Next to her, the deputy sheriff he'd met before stood representing the law, no matter how reluctantly. The battle lines were drawn.

For a moment it seemed to Grant an epic battle
between good and evil. He shook off that fancy and started down the aisle at a deliberate pace. No one here was evil. They were just people trying to do what they thought was right. Maybe that was even more frightening.

Take it slow and easy,
he told himself, aware that most of the people in the sanctuary were watching him now, as if a new fighter had entered the arena. Knowing Maggie's penchant for charging into situations, this one had probably already escalated too fast, too far.

The best thing he could do was calm the rhetoric and get some sort of delaying movement. Maggie had turned this woman into a monster in her mind, but surely any social worker worth her salt couldn't really want to take the children away on Christmas Eve.

Maggie, confronting the woman she considered her enemy, looked as strong and determined as a crusader ready to die for her cause. Then she glanced toward him, and he saw the pleading in her eyes.

He faltered, almost losing his place in the open pain of that look. Maggie needed him.

Mrs. Hadley, apparently alerted to his presence by the shifting of attention in her audience, swung ponderously to face him, too.

“Grant.” Maggie's voice was strained, held calm, he was sure, by sheer effort. “This is Mrs. Hadley.”

Then, apparently realizing she should have done it the other way around, she blinked. “This is Dr. Grant Hardesty, the physician who's working at the clinic this month.”

He nodded, sizing the woman up. Solid, entrenched, sure of herself—she reminded him of a parade of bureaucrats he'd dealt with in his professional life. He didn't detect any of the fierce passion for the underdog he'd seen in other children's advocates.

All of that passion came from Maggie. Mrs. Hadley stood secure in her authority and her rules and regulations. She wouldn't back down easily.

“I don't know why you wanted to call him.” Mrs. Hadley dismissed him with a glance. “The only thing that matters is that you don't know how to reach those children's mother. That gives me every right to put them in foster care.” She swung on the deputy. “Do your duty, for once in your life.”

“Just a moment.” Grant's words, quietly spoken, had enough steel to bring a quick appraising look from the deputy. “I'd like to know what's going on here.”

“What interest is it of yours?” Mrs. Hadley snapped.

The question, rude as it was, went right to the heart of the situation. If he admitted his involvement, that would spell even more trouble for the clinic, probably dooming his chance at the partnership. To his astonishment, that didn't mean as much as it had just a day ago.

All of you.
The words echoed in his mind.
I want all of you.

He'd been so sure that his future was his own to determine. Admitting that it wasn't brought an amaz
ing sense of freedom, and with that feeling came the knowledge of how to play this situation.

He swung on Maggie. “Well, Ms. Davis, what's going on? Perhaps you'll be good enough to explain.”

Pain flashed in her eyes at his curt tone. Then she seemed to recognize the incongruity of his question. Her eyes widened. Her lips twitched, as if she held back an unguarded remark. Then she turned away, her hair swinging down to hide her face.

“I don't know what Mrs. Hadley is doing here.” She managed to produce a sulky tone that was a perfect counterpoint to his arrogant doctor routine.

He should have known she'd instantly grasp what he wanted. After all, wasn't that how they'd worked together through every crisis of the past month?

“Try to explain,” he said condescendingly.

He sent a covert glance toward the social worker. Her faint smile suggested that she liked hearing him put Maggie down. He had to control an anger that was surely irrational, since that was just the reaction he wanted.

“She seems to think Nella Bascom has deserted her children. We've tried to explain that we're just taking care of them while she's away, but Mrs. Hadley won't listen.”

He paused for a beat, then turned toward the woman, raising his eyebrows. “I think that's perfectly clear. What seems to be the problem?”

Mrs. Hadley's face tightened until she looked like an angry bulldog. “It's a nest of lies, that's what's
wrong. Those children belong under my supervision.”

“I can't imagine why you feel that's necessary. They've been under the care of a physician and a nurse, not to mention the minister and half the town.” He paused, letting that sink in. “Why would we need you?”

There was an approving stir in the congregation. Someone said a resounding Amen.

Mrs. Hadley's face flushed. “No one here knows where Nella Bascom is. You can't deny that. I gave Maggie a chance to call her, and she couldn't do it.”

“Naturally not.” Please, let this be true. “How can anyone reach her when Nella is en route to Button Gap for Christmas?”

“You expect me to believe that?”

He shrugged. “It's immaterial to me what you believe.”

An approving flicker in Gus's face alerted him. The deputy, he'd guess, might weigh in on their side if he could give him a reason.

“The fact is, it's Christmas Eve,” he continued. “Even if you had a reason for suspecting someone was breaking the law, I can't imagine any good social worker would try to snatch children away from a safe situation on Christmas Eve.”

“I knew I'd find them in church on Christmas Eve if they were here.” Her arrogance was tinged, for the first time, with defensiveness.

He raised his eyebrows. “Really.” Two syllables
to express doubt. “That hardly seems a reason to me for such drastic action.”

“That's what I've been saying right along,” Gus said. “We ought to let this go till after Christmas.”

The woman's flush deepened alarmingly. “I didn't ask for your opinion.”

Gus hesitated, probably weighing his desire to go home to his family against the Hadley woman's political clout. He needed something to push him over the edge.

Grant pulled out his cell phone. “Something was mentioned about calling Nella Bascom,” he said pleasantly. “I'm afraid I can't do that, but my speed dial does connect with the home phone of John Gilbert, senior partner in Gilbert, Gilbert and Hayes. He handles the legal affairs of the Hardesty Foundation. I'm sure he wouldn't mind disturbing—” He paused, turning to Gus. “By the way, who's the county judge?”

Gus grinned. “That would be Layton Warren.”

“I'm sure my attorney wouldn't mind calling Judge Warren on Christmas Eve, if necessary, to obtain an injunction preventing you from removing the children pending a hearing.” He raised the phone. “Shall I make the call?”

The sanctuary was hushed. It felt as if no one so much as took a breath. He sensed, quite suddenly, the wave of prayer flooding the room from all those souls sending up the same petition at one time.

Mrs. Hadley was as pale now as she'd been ruddy before. Her mouth moved twice. Then she spoke.

“That won't be necessary,” she said in a strangled tone.

“No, indeed,” Gus said promptly, taking her arm in a firm grip.

Grant could breathe, but he couldn't relax yet. “I'm glad we're in agreement. I'm sure none of us wants further unpleasantness.” Grant dropped the phone back into his pocket.

“Guess we've held up the Christmas pageant long enough.” Gus nudged the woman toward the door.

For a moment Grant thought she'd stage a comeback. Then she seemed to sag into herself. She allowed the deputy to propel her to the door.

Gus paused, touching the brim of his hat. “Merry Christmas, folks.”

Grant caught the sound of Maggie's sigh of relief, so soft no one else could have heard it. He wanted to turn to her, sharing the moment.

But even if they hadn't stood in full view of the entire village, that probably wasn't a good idea. His own emotions ran too high, and he could only imagine what she might be feeling.

They'd saved the Bascom kids for the moment, but nothing was resolved between them. That was the bottom line.

He'd better be perfectly sure he knew what he wanted before he said one more word to her.

 

There'd been a moment when she might have said something to Grant—tried to express her feelings. Then the organ started to play, the children filed into
their places and the opportunity had passed. Maggie, kneeling next to the front pew, motioned the shepherds to close their eyes in feigned sleep before the angels startled them awake.

God, breaking into ordinary lives and making them different. Making them new.

Was that what was happening to Grant? She couldn't think of anything else to account for the extraordinary change in his attitude.

Grant, the person who'd pushed all along to turn the children over to social services, had instead walked into the sanctuary and taken on the system he'd claimed to rely upon.

Walked in? Maybe that wasn't quite the right explanation for Grant's appearance.

The angels popped out from behind the chancel rail, waking the shepherds. Mary Jo Carter's blue jeans peeked from the hem of her white gown, adding an interesting contrast to her angel costume. Someone should have caught that before the performance started. Her, probably. But she'd been a bit preoccupied, hadn't she?

She'd called Grant. In that moment of crisis, when she'd faced something she couldn't handle on her own, she'd called on him for help.

Maybe that wasn't as surprising as she thought. Maybe she'd been moving in that direction throughout the past month, as their lives had become more and more entwined.

He'd come—that was the significant thing. He'd answered her cry for help, and he'd saved them.

She had no illusions about that. If Grant hadn't appeared just when he did, the Bascom kids would be on their way to spending Christmas Eve in foster care. No one else would have succeeded in stopping Mrs. Hadley. He'd thrown his power and influence into the mix, and that had swung the balance to their side.

What was it going to cost him?

The organist hit the opening chords of “The First Noel,” and the congregation rose to join the children in the carol. Under cover of the movement, she glanced back to the center aisle.

Halfway back, Grant shared a hymnal with Aunt Elly. He could have left. He could have walked right out the door behind Gus and Mrs. Hadley, but he hadn't. She wasn't sure what that meant.

He'd been willing to risk the partnership he wanted for the sake of the children. He could still lose, and so could they. If Nella didn't come back, Mrs. Hadley would undoubtedly be seeing the judge the day after Christmas. The resulting clash might end with the clinic closed and Grant's partnership destroyed.

Why had he taken that chance?

Not because of me, Lord. I know that. Have You found a way into his heart?

The shepherds, sneakers showing beneath their robes, had found their way into the stable to kneel before the manger. The sheep, provided by Dawson Carter from his flock, gazed at them benignly. Her throat tightened.

These people—her people—probably understood
as much as anyone about this familiar scene. They lived close to the land, too. They knew what it was to stand in a barn on a cold winter's night and feel the warm breath of the animals, patient in their stalls.

The kings, surprisingly stately in their makeshift finery, moved toward the manger. Their presence pricked her.

God had not kept His revelation only for the poor and humble. The rich and powerful had been invited to that stable, too.

She glanced at Joey, half expecting tears, but he watched the kings with a critical eye, apparently ready to pounce on any mistake.

The pageant moved to its timeless conclusion, and the organ sounded the final carol. As always, it was “Away in a Manger.” The children's voices piped in the first chorus, and her tears spilled over. She let them fall, unashamed.

As the congregation joined in the second verse, she looked again toward Grant. He sang with the rest, and his eyes shone with tears.

Has he resolved his quarrel with You, Father? Has he found his way through his grief?

If he had, then Grant was whole again. She couldn't ask for more than that.

She couldn't, no matter how much she wanted to. She'd never really believed there could be anything serious between them, but she'd gone and fallen in love with him anyway.

Well, she'd deal with it. He'd go back to Baltimore, and she'd deal with that, too. Knowing him, loving
him, had helped her move past some of her private demons. She'd be a better Christian for having loved him.

Her gaze drifted over the faces of her friends—no, her family. She loved them. They loved her. With all their faults, they'd never let her down. They never would.

Someone moved, drawing her attention to the very rear of the sanctuary. Her breath caught in her throat.

Nella. Nella had come home for Christmas.