Marta Perry - The Doctor's Christmas

Aunt Elly nodded. “You figure if Nella’s going to have strength enough to raise those youngsters on her own, she’d best come back on her own.”

“She will. And I’m not going to let those kids get sucked into the system in the meantime. Nella would probably never get them back if that happened.”

They both knew what Maggie had experienced in the foster care system. It lay unspoken between them.

“I reckon Button Gap can take care of its own,” Aunt Elly said. She glanced out the kitchen window. “But it looks like you’ll have to tell the new doc something.”

“Why?” She slid off her stool, dusting her hands on her jeans.

“’Cause here he comes, and he’s got ahold of Joey by the collar.”

Before Maggie could move, a knock thundered at the door. Shooting Aunt Elly an appalled look, she moved to open it.

Grant stood on her step, holding Joey by his frayed jacket collar. “This kid belong to you?”

“Not exactly.” She grabbed the boy, pulling him inside the kitchen. “He’s a friend. What are you doing with him?”

“I found him in the cellar.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “He was trying to dismantle my furnace.”

“He can’t have been.” Her rejection was automatic, but her heart sank. Actually, he could. Joey was fascinated by all things mechanical. Worse, he might have heard her earlier and decided to help the new doctor go away.

“Yes, he was.” Grant planted his hands on his hips, glowering at her. Then he seemed to become aware of Aunt Elly, watching him with what might have been an appreciative twinkle in her eyes. And of Tacey and Robby, standing in the doorway, looking scared. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Not company.” Aunt Elly wiped her hand on the sprigged apron she wore over a faded housedress, then extended it to him. “I’m Aunt Elly. I guess you’re the new doctor.”

“Grant Hardesty.” He sent Maggie an annoyed glance. “I thought you said you didn’t have any family. Your aunt—”

“Nope, not her aunt.” Aunt Elly was obviously enjoying herself. “Ellenora Glenning, if you want to be formal.”

“Mrs. Glenning—” he began.

“Call me Aunt Elly,” she said. “Everyone does.” She grabbed her bulky gray sweater from the coat hook inside the door. “I’d better get, Maggie. Watch that pie. And you children behave yourselves, you hear?” She twinkled at Grant. “You two can probably fight better without me here.”

She scooted out the door, leaving Maggie to face the music.

Maggie gave Joey a gentle push toward the living room. “You go in and play a game with your brother and sister now. We’ll talk about this later.”

Joey sent a sidelong look at Grant. “I won’t be far off, if you need me.”

She tousled his fine blond hair. “I know. Go on, now.”

When he and the other children were out of sight, she turned back to Grant.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked before she had time to think.

“I didn’t, not exactly.” Well, that sounded feeble. “You asked if I had any family. I don’t.” She pointed to the windowsill where the elderly calico cat slept, oblivious to the hubbub. “And you might have seen Callie.”

“I might have, but I didn’t.” His frown deepened. “It’s obvious these kids are staying with you. Why didn’t you want me to know?”

Part of the truth was better than none. “Their mother is a friend of mine. She had to go out of town for a few days, so I’m watching them while she’s gone.”

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me the truth when I asked.”

“Look, I just didn’t want you to think the children would interfere with my work.” She hated saying it, hated sounding as if he had the right to disapprove of anything she did. “They won’t. I have plenty of people to take care of them when I’m working.”

“Your system didn’t seem to work too well when the boy decided to take my furnace apart.”

“Joey. His name is Joey.” She took a breath. He had a point, unfortunately. “I’m sorry about that. He’s interested in how things work. Do you need me to come over and fix it?”

“I can manage.” There was a note to his voice that she didn’t like. “But I don’t want to work with someone I can’t trust.”

She wanted to lash out at him, tell him she didn’t want to work with him, either. Tell him to take his changeable eyes and his chiseled profile and go right back to Baltimore where he belonged.

But she couldn’t. Like it or not, she was stuck with him.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been that rough on her. Maggie’s face looked pale and stiff, her promise delivered through set lips. They’d definitely gotten off on the wrong foot, mostly her fault, but he didn’t need to contribute to it.

Not being told the truth was a flashpoint with him, maybe because his parents had spent so much of their time either avoiding the truth or prettying it up until it became palatable to them.

Still, he had to work with the woman for the next month, and he was the temporary, not she. He needed to establish normal business relations with her, or his time here would be even more difficult.

He forced a smile. “Look, we’ve had a rocky beginning. What do you say we start over?”

Emotions flitted rapidly across her face. Maggie wasn’t as impassive as she probably liked to believe. He could see her questioning his motives and wondering whether he meant what he said. He could see her distaste at the thought of cooperating with him. And then he saw her reluctant acceptance.

Why reluctant? What made her tick? His own curiosity surprised him.

She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe that would be best.” She took a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge into cold water. “Welcome to Button Gap, Dr. Hardesty.” She extended her hand.

He took it. Her hand was small, but firm and capable in his.

“Call me Grant. After all, we’re going to be working closely for the next month.”

“Fine.” The reservation was still there in her dark brown eyes. “Grant.”

He’d held her hand a little longer than necessary. He released it and glanced around, looking for some topic that would ease the tension between them.

“This is a lot nicer than the temporary doc’s quarters.”

The big square kitchen had exposed beams in the corners and crossing the ceiling, with rough white plaster between them. Old-fashioned dish cabinets with multipaned glass fronts lined one of the walls, and a wood-burning stove took up floor space on the worn linoleum. In the corner nearest the door, she had a square oak table, its surface worn with the scars of countless meals.

Maggie managed a more genuine smile. “You should have seen it when I moved in.”

“I can imagine.” He saw the work she must have put in, now that he looked for it. The faded linoleum was spotless and brightened by rag rugs in bright colors. Someone, presumably Maggie, had polished the wood-burner to a black gloss. Red-and-white-checked curtains dressed the three small windows, and each windowsill sported a red geranium.

“No one had lived here for a lot of years. I had to fight the mice for control of the kitchen.” Satisfaction laced her words, and she glanced around possessively.

“I suppose the cat helped.”

“Callie?” Her face softened as she glanced at the white-orange-and-black ball of fur. “Callie’s way too old for much mouse-catching, but we get along okay.”

“How long have you been here?” He leaned his hip against the counter, wondering if she’d ask him to sit. Or if she was just waiting for him to leave.

“Five years.”

Something shadowed her face when she said that—some emotion he couldn’t quite decipher.