by Marta Perry
“Aunt Elly took care of me,” she said. “I’m taking care of Nella’s children. I guess I’m doing what she taught me by her kindness. I wish—”
The children came storming back into the room just then, and the fragile moment was gone. Whatever Maggie wished, he wouldn’t hear it now, not with three hungry children converging on the table.
Joey grabbed for the cookie platter, his arm dangerously close to the milk pitcher. Robby bumped into him, the pitcher tipped, the milk sloshed and several cookies slid toward the floor.
“Joey!” Grant swung to catch the pitcher before it landed on the floor, too. “You’ve got to—”
The boy cowered away from him, arms up to shield his face. He stopped, stunned.
Something grabbed his heart and squeezed. Only one thing would make a child react like that. He could hardly breathe for the fury that choked him at the thought of someone harming that child.
He took a breath, forcing himself to be calm. He had to say something that would take that expression of fear off Joey’s face.
Maggie beat him to it, catching the boy in a hug. “It’s all right. Joey, it’s all right, honest. No one will hurt you.”
“I’m sorry.” Joey’s voice trembled on a sob. “I didn’t mean to spill it.”
“Hey, buddy, I know you didn’t.” Grant knelt next to him, making his voice soft. “I’m sorry I shouted. I wasn’t mad at you. I just wanted to catch the milk before it spilled.”
He could see the boy’s rigidity ease. Maggie’s eyes, wide and pained, met his over the child’s head, and she nodded, as if telling him to keep talking.
“Listen, I’m not mad, really I’m not. I was startled, that’s all.”
Joey slowly unwound himself from Maggie’s arms. It seemed to take an effort to look at Grant, but he managed. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He suppressed the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair. He’d better not make any more sudden movements. “Let’s have that snack, okay?”
Maggie stood, her hand still on Joey’s shoulder. “I have a great idea. You guys can take your cookies and milk in on the coffee table and watch that new Christmas video we bought. Sound good?”
Joey nodded, his face relaxing. “I get to turn it on.” He ran toward the living room. The other two children emerged from the corner to follow him.
Anger rocketed through Grant. Was that what they normally did? Cowered in the corner to protect themselves from some adult who was supposed to be taking care of them?
He stalked to the window and stared out past the red geranium on the sill. Dusk was drawing in, seeping down the mountains to cloak the village in shadows.
Behind him, he heard Maggie carrying cookies and milk into the other room. He heard the music of the video start and sensed her return to the kitchen.
When he was sure he had control of himself, he turned to face her, determined to keep his voice below the level of the video from the next room.
“Is that why the mother’s not here? Because she abused them?”
He read the answer in the horrified expression on Maggie’s face.
“Of course not! Nella’s a good mother. She’d never do anything to hurt her children. In fact, she’d take—”
She stopped abruptly, but he knew the rest of it.
“She’d let him hit her rather than the kids.” Tiredness laced his voice. He’d seen this way too many times in the E.R., and it still sickened him.
Maggie nodded, glanced toward the door, then stepped a little closer. “The best thing Ted Bascom ever did was wrap his truck around a tree. I don’t think you’d find a soul in Button Gap to say any different.”
“You’re telling me people knew.” His hands clenched. “Why didn’t you do something about it, if you’re all so concerned about each other here?”
She paled. “We tried. Don’t you realize we’d try? None of the Bascoms would ever tell the truth about it. It was always how awkward Nella had been, or how she’d fallen down the steps yet again.”
“You still should have called the police.”
Maggie rubbed her arms as if chilled. “I did that once. It just made things worse. And the police couldn’t do anything when Nella declared up and down that she’d just fallen and Ted wouldn’t hurt her. He had her convinced she was nothing without him.”
“Social services, then.”
If anything, her face went even whiter. “There’s no point in your telling me what we should have done. Believe me, we tried everything. I think I’d almost gotten Nella to the point of moving to a shelter when Ted’s death made it unnecessary. Now we just have to help them put their lives back together again.”
She was right. He knew as well as anyone how often well-meaning efforts failed.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to second-guess you. I know you’ve been going the extra mile for them.”
He clasped her shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. He wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming urge to draw her against him, to soothe away the distress in her eyes.
First the kids. Now Maggie. It seemed Button Gap was getting under his skin in more ways than one.
Could she trust Grant with the truth or couldn’t she?
Maggie was still struggling with that question on Friday morning as she filled out yet another of the many forms the county insisted upon. Sometimes she thought the whole clinic would sink under an avalanche of useless paperwork.
The forms were the least of her concerns at the moment. She let her fingers rest over the computer keys and stared across the waiting room, empty at the moment.
The wide front window gave a gray view of a mostly deserted street. The west wind whipped the flag in front of the post office. It sent a stray newspaper fluttering along like a tumbleweed.
Winter—that was what it looked like. The gray sky suggested snow, and the few people who were out and about had bundled up in winter jackets and scarves. The weather, along with everything else, reminded her of the rapidly passing days. Soon it would be Christmas.
She pressed her fingers against the headache that had been building behind her eyes for the past day. Nella would return before Christmas, surely. She couldn’t bear to miss the holiday with her children.
If she doesn’t, a little voice whispered relentlessly in her ear, if she doesn’t, what will you do?
Well, I won’t panic, she retorted. I’ll find a way to deal with the situation.
Which just brought her back to her original question. Could she trust Grant with the secret she hid?
She’d come close to telling him the day before. His sympathy, when he’d realized what Nella and the children had endured, had touched her to the heart. She’d been within a breath of pouring out everything.
Some instinctive caution had held her back. She massaged her temples with her fingertips. Certainly her life would be easier if Grant knew the truth, if he were part of the Button Gap conspiracy.
She didn’t know him well enough to be sure of how he’d react. That was the bottom line. Each time she thought she had Grant figured out, he surprised her.
“What are you doing?”
Her hands jerked away from her head. “Nothing. That is, I’m working on the latest statistics report the county office has decided to plague us with.”
He nodded, leaning against the desk. “Bureaucrats. They’re the same no matter where they are.”
That was a featherweight in the balance toward telling him the truth. If he shared her distaste for those who quibbled while others tried to make a difference in people’s lives, he might understand about Nella and the children.
She stretched, trying to cover her uncertainty. “We could use someone else in the office just to handle all the paperwork, but that’s not going to happen.”
“No, they like to keep you on a shoestring, don’t they?” He bent a little closer. “How are the kids today? I hope Joey’s not still upset.”
She found herself turning toward him without really intendi
ng the movement. Get a grip, she told herself.
“He seems to be fine. Kids are remarkably resilient. At least, I keep telling myself that.”
“It’s hard to understand how a man could treat his own child that way.” His mouth tightened. “As often as I’ve seen it, I still can’t grasp it.”
“They’re safe now.”
He does understand. Surely it’s all right to tell him.
She looked up, the words hovering on her lips. But Grant wasn’t looking at her any longer. He was staring past her at the computer screen.
“This can’t be right.” He pointed, frowning at one of the lines she’d filled in. “You’ve made a mistake.”
“Not exactly.” Her fingers clenched. She should have closed that file the moment she realized he was standing behind her.
He transferred the frown to her. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly?’”
“We’ve always reported the statistics that way. Doc Harriman figured out a long time ago that the county wouldn’t cover the vitamins he ordered for the children if he filled it in as vitamins, so he—”
“Cheated.” Grant’s tone was uncompromising.
“It’s not cheating! He just described it a little differently. If we don’t do that, we can’t give vitamins to the kids whose families can’t afford to buy them. What’s more important, a line on a form or a child’s health?”
Grant pulled away from the desk and straightened. Every line of his body proclaimed that he didn’t accept what she was saying.
“I don’t care how you rationalize it, Maggie. It’s not the right way. There are other programs that will cover the cost of vitamins.”
“Not without pushing families to go through a lot of red tape. Some of them won’t do it.”
He didn’t understand. She’d argued this out a hundred times with her own conscience, but had always come to the same conclusion—the children had to come first.
“That’s not our responsibility. We follow the rules. To the letter. Understood?”
She swallowed the argument that wanted to burst out of her mouth and gave a reluctant nod. She understood.
She also understood the answer to the question that had been plaguing her. She couldn’t possibly confide in Grant about the Bascom kids.
He might sympathize with their plight, even understand what she was trying to do. But that wouldn’t deter him. He’d go by the book. He’d turn them in.
So he couldn’t know—ever.
Chapter Six
“Quietly now. Dr. Grant is probably sleeping in, and we don’t want to bother him.” Maggie followed the children out the door Saturday morning.
Joey leaped off the porch with a shout, followed by Robby. Clearly it was futile to expect three healthy children to be quiet.
She took Tacey’s hand and followed the boys, holding the ax close against her side. Actually, she was delighted to hear the Bascoms making noise. They’d been unnaturally quiet for so long that a little ordinary rambunctious behavior could only be a good thing.
This morning, though, she’d like to get well away from the house before Grant was stirring. In fact, she’d be happy if she didn’t have to see him again until Monday morning.
Her stomach clenched as she pictured his face the day before when he’d talked about following the rules to the letter. He’d acted as if she were a thief.
The tightness in her stomach seemed to throb. Maybe that was how he saw her.
Well, Dr. Grant Hardesty didn’t know everything, even if he thought he did. She beat down the little voice that whispered maybe he had a point.
She was only doing what she had to do to take care of her people. The next time she saw him, maybe she’d just tell him so.
“Good morning. Where are you off to so early?”
Grant stood on the back steps of his side of the house. She’d assumed he was safely in bed, but he looked as if he’d been up for hours, already dressed and shaved.
She swallowed, clearing her throat. But before she could answer, Robby did.
“A Christmas tree!” He bounced up and down, nearly bouncing out of the too-large boots she’d found for him. “We getting a Christmas tree.”
It was the first time the four-year-old had voluntarily spoken to Grant. She supposed she should be happy.
“That’s great.” He glanced at Maggie, seeming to notice the ax, and lifted his eyebrows. “Imitating Paul Bunyan, are you?”
Amazing how that man could make her feel foolish with just a look. “Not exactly. We’re going up to Jack White’s woods to cut a tree. He offered us one.”
Robby stopped at the bottom of the steps. “You wanna come?”
Robby had picked a great time to be friendly.
“I’m sure Dr. Grant has too many things to do today for that.” She kept walking. “Come on, Robby.”
“Actually, I don’t have a thing to do.” His voice stopped her. “Maybe I can help.”
He’d probably volunteered just to be contrary. She turned slowly to face him.
“You don’t need to do that. We can manage.”
“But I’d like to. Don’t you want me to come, Maggie?” The expression in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly what her answer would have to be.
“Fine.” She tried not to let her voice reveal her feelings. “We’d be glad to have you.”
No, they wouldn’t be glad. She wouldn’t, anyway. Quite aside from the awkward memory of yesterday’s encounter, every moment that Grant was with the children was a moment when she had to be on guard. But she didn’t have a choice. Making an issue of it would just raise his suspicions.
Grant fell into step beside her, the kids dancing ahead of them. They skirted adjoining backyards and headed for the lane, their feet crunching over frost-crisp grass.
“I’m really not trying to crash your party, Maggie.”
A quick glance told her he was watching her with a faintly amused expression.
“Why did you, then?” She may as well be blunt. Nothing else seemed to work with him.
His amusement vanished. “Not from any burning desire for your company, believe me. I thought it would be good to show Joey I really am a friend, not a threat.”
So much for being blunt. He’d thrown it right back at her and put her in the wrong, as well.
“I—” She couldn’t think of anything she could say to excuse her rudeness. “I’m sorry. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
It was more than thoughtful. It showed a degree of perception she hadn’t expected from him, and that put her off balance yet again.
“He’s a nice kid.” Grant sounded slightly surprised as he made the admission. “Given what he went through, I’d have expected more problems.”
“Sometimes you can’t see the damage.” He couldn’t know how deeply the subject cut for her.
He watched the kids, frowning just a little. “Isn’t their mother due back soon? I thought you said she would be away only a few more days.”
That’s what she’d said, all right. “Yes, well, she had some family business to take care of.”
Nella had gone back to the town where her family once lived. And what she was doing might be described as family business, after all. She was trying to find the courage to keep her family together. After years of being convinced she couldn’t do anything without her husband, that was a tough battle.
“I hope it won’t take much longer.”
If there was a question in that, she’d prefer to ignore it. “I’m sure it won’t.” They’d reached the edge of town, and she waved toward the field that stretched toward the woods. “Up that way, Joey.”
He nodded, waved and started off at a run through the frost-touched weeds. Tacey and Robby followed him. Their jackets were bright splotches of crimson and blue against the silvered grass.
Grant put out his hand toward the ax. “I’ll carry that for you.”
Did he think she was helpless? “No.” That came out a little hars
hly. “Thanks, anyway.”
She could sense his gaze on her face as they crossed the brittle stubble, probing as if to question her every comment. She looked firmly away, concentrating instead on the way the slant of December sunlight picked out the blossoms of daisy fleabane and wild asters, dried on the stalk.
“You sound a little hoarse this morning.” It was his cool professional tone. “Is your throat sore?”
She cleared her throat. She had no intention of turning into one of Dr. Hardesty’s patients, although it would probably be impolite to tell him so.
“A bit scratchy, that’s all.” She pointed toward the plantation of evergreens dotting the hillside ahead of them. “There are the trees Jack mentioned. He said we could pick any one that’s not marked.”
The kids were already running between the trees, exclaiming about first one, then another. Grant pushed through a stand of dried goldenrod, its stems crackling. He paused to eye a slightly misshapen Scotch pine.
“Does he grow these for a living?”
She had to smile. “Doesn’t look like much of a living, does it? A few years ago, half the county decided there was money to be made in Christmas trees. Anyone with a woodlot started planting them, without thinking about the cost of getting them to market.”
“Not a successful experiment, I take it.”
“Most of the trees ended up like this, trimmed for a few years, then left to go wild.”
“We ought to be able to find one that’s not too bad, especially if we trim off the bottom.”
That was just what she’d been thinking, but she was surprised that had occurred to him. “I’m sure your Christmas tree is always perfectly shaped.”
He shrugged. “The ones I remember as a kid always looked perfect by the time I saw them, anyway. My mother had them professionally decorated.”
“Professionally decorated?” The concept boggled her mind. “You didn’t trim your own Christmas tree?”
He frowned, then glanced toward the kids. “Hey, guys. Did any of you see one you like yet?”
Apparently she wasn’t going to get an answer to that unguarded question. Well, fair enough. She’d certainly evaded plenty of his questions. But what kind of a childhood had Grant Hardesty had, anyway?
