The Doctor's Christmas Read Free

tell.
    She took a steadying breath and led the way downthe rickety wooden stairs. Truth to tell, she hated dark, damp places herself. But she wouldn’t give in to that fear, not anymore.
    Grant’s footsteps thudded behind her. He had to duck his head to avoid a low beam, and he seemed too close in the small space.
    â€œThere’s the monster.” She flicked the light on the furnace—a squat, ugly, temperamental beast. “It’s oil fired, but the motor’s electric.”
    She checked the oil gauge, knelt next to the motor and flipped the switch. Nothing.
    Grant squatted next to her, putting one hand on her shoulder to steady himself as he repeated her action. His touch was warm and strong, giving her the ridiculous desire to lean against him.
    â€œDoesn’t sound too promising.”
    His voice was amused, rather than annoyed, as if he’d decided laughter was the best way of handling the situation. Maybe he was imagining the stories he’d have to tell, back in the city, about his sojourn in the wilderness.
    â€œIt’s just stubborn.” She stood, putting a little distance between them. She closed the door that covered the switch, then gave it a hearty kick. The furnace coughed, grumbled and started to run.
    â€œNice technique,” he said. “I’ll remember that.” His voice was low and rich with amusement, seeming to touch a chord within her that hadn’t been touched in a long time.
    She swung around, the beam of the flashlight glancing off rickety wooden shelves lined with dustycanning jars. A wave of discomfort hit her, and she went quickly to the stairs.
    â€œThe furnace will keep running until the thermostat clicks off, but it’s always a little drafty upstairs. I hope you brought a few sweaters.” I hope you decide this isn’t for you.
    If he left, they’d be without a doctor until after the holidays. If he stayed—
    She didn’t have any illusions about his reaction if he discovered the secret she hid. No one else in Button Gap would give her away, but he might.
    â€œI’ll make do,” he said. He closed the cellar door behind them.
    Grant wouldn’t have a chance to give her away, because he’d never know. She’d make sure of that.
    â€œDo you have a family, Maggie?”
    Her heart stopped. “No. Why do you ask?”
    His gaze fixed on her face, frowning, as if he considered a diagnosis. “I thought I saw a kid at your window when I arrived.”
    â€œThat must have been Calico.” She tried for a light laugh. “My cat. She loves to sit in the window and watch the birds. You probably saw her.”
    He gave her a cool, superior look that said he wasn’t convinced. “Must have been, I guess.”
    Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. Really I am. But isn’t protecting some of Your little ones worth a white lie?
    Somehow she didn’t think God weighed sins the way she’d like Him to.
    And she also had a sinking feeling that told her she might not get rid of Grant Hardesty anytime soon.
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    â€œSo you lied to the man, child?” Aunt Elly looked up from the piecrust she was rolling out on Maggie’s kitchen table, her faded blue eyes shrewd behind her steel-rimmed glasses.
    â€œI didn’t want to.” The defensive note in her voice made her sound eleven again, trying every trick in the foster-kid book on Aunt Elly before realizing the woman knew them all and loved her anyway. “But I didn’t want him to find out about the Bascoms.”
    She shot a glance toward the living room, where Tacey, five, and Robby, four, were playing some kind of a game. Joey, at eight considering himself the man of the family, wasn’t in her line of sight. He’d probably curled up with a book on the couch, keeping an eye on his siblings. She lowered her voice.
    â€œYou don’t know what he’s like. Stiff-necked, by-the-book and arrogant to boot. I can’t