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“I’m Grant Hardesty, volunteer doctor of the month.”
The woman’s chocolate-colored eyes seemed made for smiling, but they held a cool reserve when she looked at him. “I’m Maggie Davis. Permanent nurse.”
“Nice to meet you, Maggie.” It hadn’t been so far, but things might improve.
Maggie lifted the envelope she held. “Your paperwork arrived the same day you did, Doctor. That’s the way the mail usually functions up here in the mountains. I didn’t think they’d send us a new doctor until after the holidays.”
“You got lucky,” he said lightly.
“Yes.” She looked him over. “Now that you’ve seen what Button Gap is like, do you still intend to stay?”
There was a challenge in the words that he didn’t miss. For whatever reason, Maggie Davis either didn’t want him to stay or didn’t think he would. Or maybe both.
He lifted an eyebrow, smiling slightly. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Davis. I fully intend to stay.”
MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book. She loves hearing from readers and will be glad to send a signed bookplate on request. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.
The Doctor’s Christmas
Marta Perry
MILLS & BOON
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Worship and serve God with your whole heart and a willing mind. For the Lord sees every heart and understands and knows every plan and thought.
—Chronicles 28:9
This story is dedicated to Bjoern Jacob,
Greta Nicole and Ameline Grace,
with love from Grammy.
And, as always, to Brian.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Grant Hardesty strode into the clinic’s waiting room. Empty and quiet, until a child’s wail issued from an exam room beyond the counter. He tossed his jacket onto a chair. Whether he wanted it to or not, his stint as a volunteer doctor at the isolated mountain clinic was apparently starting right now.
The exam room door stood open. A kid of about nine or ten sat crying on the table, while his mother stood next to him, wringing her hands. A woman who must be the clinic’s nurse struggled to pull the boy’s hands away from the cut on his face without knocking over the suture tray.
He gave a cursory knock on the door frame, barely breaking his stride. “I’m Grant Hardesty. It looks as if you have a patient for me already.” He headed for the sink, folding back his sleeves with a nod to the nurse. “I’ll do the suturing. You settle him down.”
The woman swung toward him, moving in front of the child protectively. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
Grant did a quick assessment. Jeans, boots, a flannel shirt over a white tee. What had happened to lab coats and name badges? The woman had thick glossy dark hair, short and straight, a pair of startled dark eyes and a stubborn chin. She did not look welcoming.
“I’m Dr. Hardesty,” he repeated. He started to take her place next to the patient, but she didn’t move. “From Volunteer Doctors. They must have informed you I was coming.”
The surprise in her face told him the answer to that one. She hadn’t expected him. Some bureaucrat must have fouled up.
The woman’s surprise was accompanied by something else. Before he could analyze what, the kid wailed again, the mother echoing his cry.
“Look, we’ll have a welcoming ceremony later. Let’s get the patient taken care of first.”
He didn’t have to analyze her reaction to that suggestion. Anger and indignation battled for supremacy.
“If you think I’ll turn my patient over to you without knowing more than that, you must be crazy.” Western Maryland accents were softer, lazier than Baltimorese, but hers had sharpened with anger.
The mother stifled a sob. “Maggie, if he’s a doctor—”
“We don’t know that.” She darted an annoyed glance at the woman. “Somebody walks in off the street and you want him to treat Tommy without knowing a thing about him just because he claims to be a doctor? I don’t think so.”
Maybe he should appreciate her caution, but he just wanted to cross off one day from his sentence here. Grant yanked his hospital ID from his pocket and tossed it to her. “Grant Hardesty, M.D. Okay?”
She let go of the kid to catch it, and the boy made a determined lunge to escape. Grant caught him, plopping him back on the table and getting a kick in the stomach for his trouble.
He clenched his teeth to keep back a groan. “Satisfied? Let’s get this done. I repeat. You hold, I suture.”
She frowned at his ID for another moment, then gave in with a reluctant nod.
“Gloves are on the tray.” She took the kid’s hands. “Come on, Tommy. The new doctor will take good care of you.”
She probably didn’t actually mean that reassurance, but at least she seemed done arguing.
He snapped on the gloves and checked the tray. He’d dealt with antagonistic medical personnel before. He could handle this one, even if she did dress more like a female lumberjack