The Doctor's Christmas. Marta Perry

      “Just see if those new pills help you.” Grant carried a parcel wrapped in brown paper gingerly in one hand. “Check in with us next week.”

      “Thanks, Doc.” Isaiah tucked a handful of pill samples into the pocket of his dusty corduroy jacket, waved to Maggie and limped out, banging the door behind him.

      Grant turned to her with a grin and held out the package. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

      A parade of butterflies fluttered through her stomach at the grin. Okay, maybe she hadn’t eliminated the feelings. She could still settle for controlling her reactions so Grant never suspected.

      She took the parcel and peeked inside. “Well, I’d suggest refrigerating it until you’re ready to eat it.” At his blank look, she smiled. “It’s venison sausage. Haven’t you ever had any?”

      “Not that I can recall. I take it the barter system is alive and well in Button Gap.” He leaned against the desk, way too close for her state of mind. “Don’t they realize that the county pays the bills?”

      She carried the package to the small refrigerator. “People here don’t like to accept charity. I’ve tried explaining that their tax dollars support the clinic, but most folks still want to pay their way.”

      He shook his head. “They’re out of step with society, then.”

      “That’s not a bad thing.”

      “No.” His smile warmed those cool blue eyes. “Anyway, you can have the sausage if you want it.”

      “What’s the matter? Too rough for your sophisticated palate?”

      Instead of responding with a smile or a jibe, he studied her face for a moment, as if wondering what lay beneath the skin. “That sounds like a criticism,” he said. “And I’m not sure why. What do you have against me, Maggie?”

      She shouldn’t have let the remark pop out of her mouth. She knew better.

      Grant waited, expecting an answer. At least he didn’t look angry.

      “Sorry.” She forced herself to be honest with him. “I guess the problem is that I see the volunteers come and go. Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. We couldn’t run the clinic without them.”

      “I sense a ‘but’ coming.” He folded his arms across the front of the white lab coat he wore over a pale blue dress shirt.

      She shrugged. “But sometimes they’re more trouble than they’re worth. And sometimes I get the feeling that the only reason they’re here is to fill in the line for public service on their résumés.”

      “That’s a pretty harsh judgment, isn’t it?”

      That was what Aunt Elly had said, in different words. She’d reminded Maggie that being judgmental was a sin.

      “That’s how I feel. If I’m wrong, I’m sorry.”

      He shoved himself away from the desk and came toward her, frowning. She had to force herself not to back up. He stopped, inches from her, his gaze intent on her face.

      “Okay, fair enough. Why are you here, Maggie?”

      Not for any reason I’d like to confide in you. “That’s a long story.”

      “Give me the condensed version.” He didn’t look as if he intended to move until she did.

      She looked up at him, then was sorry. He was too close for her state of mind. The tiny refrigerator was at her back, and he filled the narrow confines between the desk and the wall. She couldn’t walk away without brushing against him, and she wouldn’t do that. She had to say something.

      “I worked in Pittsburgh for a time after I finished school, but I never got rid of my longing for the mountains. Button Gap felt like home to me, and I heard the county needed someone to run the clinic. So I came. End of story.”

      “It’s a nice story.” His voice had lowered to a baritone rumble that did funny things to her. His fingers brushed hers. “You’re a dedicated person, Maggie.”

      Her breath caught in her throat. Warmth seemed to emanate from his touch, flowing through her. She wanted to lean into him and feel that warmth encircle her.

      She couldn’t.

      What she’d told him wasn’t the whole story, and a large part of her particular story wasn’t nice at all.

      That was just one more reason why she shouldn’t be letting herself feel anything at all when Grant was around. Unfortunately, that seemed easier said than done, especially when he looked at her with what might be admiration in his eyes.

      “Grant, I—”

      The door sounded, flooding her with relief. He moved, and she slipped around him. Aunt Elly came toward them. The heavy wool jacket she wore had probably belonged to her late husband, and she carried a basket over her arm, with a napkin tucked over something that smelled of cinnamon.

      “Those aren’t cinnamon buns, are they?” Maggie leaned against the counter, smiling in welcome.

      Movement beyond the plate-glass window caught her eye, and the smile faded. A county sheriff’s car pulled into the parking space in front of the clinic.

      She felt instantly guilty, and it didn’t do any good to tell herself that the presence of the sheriff’s car meant nothing. It might well mean trouble if Grant was here when the occupant of that car came inside.

      She rounded the counter quickly, taking Aunt Elly’s arm.

      “You’re just in time to see the doctor.” She glanced meaningfully at the car, then back at Aunt Elly’s face. “Keep him busy,” she mouthed.

      Aunt Elly followed her gaze, startled, then nodded. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s good. I want to talk to the doc about my knee.”

      “You go on back.” She yanked open the file drawer to pull out Aunt Elly’s chart and hand it to Grant. “Dr. Hardesty’s coming right now.”

      Only Grant’s slightly lifted eyebrows indicated he thought she was rushing them. He took Aunt Elly’s arm, and together they disappeared into the exam room.

      Just in time. As the exam room door closed, the front door opened. Deputy Sheriff Gus Foster ambled toward the desk.

      At least the sheriff’s department had sent someone she knew. Thank You, Lord.

      “Hey, there, Maggie, how’s life treating you?” Gus lifted the dark felt hat from his white hair. With his snowy hair and beard and his comfortably round stomach, Gus visited the Button Gap schoolchildren as Santa every year.

      “Fine, Gus. And yourself?” The formalities had to be gotten through before Gus would get to the reason for his visit, but her stomach tightened with the fear that Grant would come back out for some reason.

      “Can’t complain.” He leaned against the desk. “Hear you’ve got a new doc.”

      She nodded. “From Baltimore. Just until Christmas.” Had they’d chatted enough? It felt like her nerves were rubbed raw. “What brings you in to see us?”

      “Well, now.” A shade of reluctance, maybe even embarrassment, touched Gus’s ruddy face. “It’s this way. We had a call from Mrs. Hadley.”

      Maggie’s stomach lurched. Mrs. Hadley, head of the county’s social services department, wouldn’t have called the sheriff’s office for fun. Her thoughts flickered to the Bascom kids, safely tucked away with retired teacher Emily Davison for the afternoon, except for Joey, who was in school.

      “What does she want now?” She tried to keep both face and voice expressionless.

      “Now, Maggie, I know the two of you don’t get along. Reckon I know why, too. But I can’t ignore her when she calls.” He gave a wry grin. “Leastways,