by Marta Perry
A fragile glass angel dangled from her fingers, the flickering light from the fire turning the wings to gold. The way she looked at the angel told him it had a special significance for her.
He got to his feet to look more closely. “Very pretty. It looks old.”
“It was my mother’s.” Emotion shadowed her eyes. “The only thing I have left that was hers.”
He touched one wing with a fingertip. “There’s a little chip out. If the piece is in the box, maybe I could glue it in place.”
“No.” Something suddenly pained her face. “I don’t have the piece. It was broken a long time ago.”
“What happened?” The question was out before he considered that she might find it intrusive.
She shrugged, turning away to hang the angel from a high branch, safe from little hands, he supposed.
“Just an accident.”
It must have been more than that, or she wouldn’t have that shadow on her face when she looked at the angel’s wing. But she clearly didn’t intend to share the story with him.
Maggie bent over the enameled coffeepot that she’d put next to the fire to stay warm. “Ready for some more hot chocolate?”
“Sure, why not?” He picked up the mug he’d been using and held it out for a refill. He didn’t have the right to push for answers she didn’t want to give. He sat back down, letting her choose another subject.
She glanced toward the window again as she joined him on the floor. “I just hope the snow won’t keep everyone home from pageant practice this week.”
A safe enough subject, he supposed. “How is the pageant coming along? No more disputes about the magi?”
“No.” She smiled. “But Pastor Jim used your comments about the magi in his sermon this morning. He said he wanted people to actually listen to the story instead of thinking they know it already.”
Being quoted in a sermon had to be a first for him. “I wish I’d heard him.”
“You could have come to church.”
It blindsided him, coming on the heels of a casual comment he hadn’t really meant. He didn’t let his expression change, but she probably felt his tension.
“I could have. I didn’t.”
Let her make of that what she would. She’d probably get defensive. He didn’t care. His private quarrel with God wasn’t her concern.
“I hope you’ll come on Christmas Eve for the pageant. The children would like that.”
He couldn’t detect anything critical in her voice, but she still might be thinking it.
“Maybe.” He made his tone noncommittal. “If I’m still here.”
He wouldn’t be. His term of service was up that day. He’d be on the road back to his real life by the time the kids began to sing, letting Maggie and Button Gap recede in his rearview mirror and his memory.
What had possessed her to push him on that subject? Maggie could feel Grant’s tension through the arm that brushed against hers. The moment she’d mentioned church, he’d withdrawn.
Well, he’d already made it fairly clear that church wasn’t one of his priorities. And that it wasn’t any of her business.
Besides, she didn’t even want him to stay for the pageant. The sooner Grant left Button Gap, the sooner she could relax and get her life back to normal.
It was definitely time for a change of subject. Past time, really.
“Speaking of holidays, is Joey getting the toboggan he wants for his birthday?” Grant must have been thinking the same thing she was. He nodded toward the window. “Looks as if he’ll have plenty of chances to use it.”
She glanced at Joey, sprawled on his quilt, his fine blond hair almost white in the dim light. He looked defenseless in sleep, the way a child should.
“I managed to get a snow saucer for him from the church rummage sale. Once I’ve painted it, it’ll be fine.” Grant had probably never had a used present in his life, but Joey would appreciate it. “I’m afraid he’ll have to share with the other two, though. They only had the one.”
“I thought maybe his mother—”
Her hands, clasped loosely around her knees, gripped each other. “Nella can’t afford a toboggan.”
“Will she be back by Joey’s birthday?”
“If she can be.”
Lord, please bring Nella home by then. Let her see how much the children need her. Give her strength.
For a moment the silence stretched between them, broken only by the hiss and crackle of the fire. It was oddly comfortable, in spite of the awkward moments.
Well, Grant had things he didn’t want to talk about, and she had her own secrets to hide. As long as they respected each other’s boundaries, they could be—
That thought then led to a question. Friends? She wasn’t sure that best described their relationship. Colleagues, maybe. At least they didn’t have to be adversaries, did they?
Grant shifted, propping one elbow on his knee. In his jeans and white sweater, he should have looked casually at home, but an indefinable something set him apart.
“So tell me, Maggie. What was it like, growing up here in Button Gap?”
She shrugged, thinking of all the things she wouldn’t say to him about her childhood. “About like it is now. Small, isolated. Everyone knew everyone else.”
“You lived right here in town?”
“No.” Her fingers tightened as the image of the old farmhouse flashed into her mind, and she forced them to relax. “We lived out of town a couple of miles.”
“So you rode the bus to school.”
“Yes.” When she came. When her father wasn’t ranting about the uselessness of educating girls to think they were better than they were.
Grant lifted an eyebrow. “Would you like me to start paying you per word?”
“Sorry.” She forced a smile. She’d learned ways of talking about the past that evaded the truth, that made it sound as if she’d had a childhood just like other kids. Why was it so hard to come up with the familiar fantasy for Grant? “Guess I’m just tired.”
“Do you want to stretch out on the couch?”
He started to move, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“No, I’m fine.” She spread her hands, palms up. “There’s not much to tell. I always wanted to be a nurse, but there wasn’t enough money for college. So I went to Hagerstown, where I could get a decent job. I took classes at the community college.”
“In a nursing degree program?”
“I planned to get into an LPN program. That was all I could afford. But some people at the church I went to took an interest in me. They helped me get scholarship money and made it possible to go for an R.N. instead.”
“It sounds as if they were friends.”
She nodded, thinking of the college professor and his wife who’d practically adopted her, of the young family who’d given her room and board in exchange for baby-sitting, of the elderly woman who’d paid her tuition when she couldn’t possibly have gone to school otherwise.
“They were good friends.” Her throat tightened. “I owe them a great deal.”
“I’m sure you repaid them when you could.”
She shook her head, getting a lump in her throat at the thought of their responses.
“I tried to. They all said the same thing. ‘Use that degree to do good.’ That’s all they wanted.”
“So you came back to Button Gap and did just that.” He smiled, his eyes warm with what she might almost imagine was admiration. “I suspect those people are proud of you.”
Grant’s warmth drew her closer, like a flower turning toward the sun. He was only inches away in the quiet room, and the firelight flickered on his strong features and gilded his skin.
She took a breath, feeling as if she hadn’t bothered to do that for several minutes.
“That’s my story.” She cleared her throat. “What about you?”
“How did I end up a doctor, you mean?”
She nodded. Come on, Grant. Talk about something, anythin
g, that’s neutral enough to let me get my balance.
“Was your father a doctor?”
He made a sound that might have been a laugh if it had had any humor in it. “That’s not very likely. My father lives and breathes business. His company is all that interests him.”
“I suppose he wanted you to go into business with him, then.”
“That was the plan.” His lips tightened. “When I decided to take premed, he persuaded himself it was a momentary lapse. I’d grow up and get over it. When I applied to medical school instead of Harvard Business School, the explosion could be heard up and down the eastern seaboard.”
“Obviously you got your way.” There was more tension in him than she’d have expected over a quarrel with his father that must have taken place several years earlier.
He shrugged. “There wasn’t anything he could do to stop me. I had my own money.”
The simple sentence defined the difference between them. He’d had his own money. Doors to the life he’d wanted had opened to him, because he’d been able to pay. Could he even imagine what life was like without that?
“Have you and your father made up?”
He tilted his head in a slight nod. “I guess so. We were never close, and that hasn’t changed. Maybe he still expects me to walk into his office and take my rightful place at some point. It won’t happen.”
“No. You already have a partnership waiting for you, don’t you?”
“I hope I do.” He looked at her, a question in eyes that looked more green than blue in the dim light. “That’s the life I want. Is something wrong with that?”
“I wasn’t being critical.” At least, she hoped she wasn’t. “It sounds like a great opportunity. You’ll be doing good work.”
His smile broke through again. “It’s not in a league with Button Gap, I admit. No one there will bring me apple butter in exchange for an office visit.” His voice was gently teasing, and he leaned closer.
Did he realize how close he was? She could see the flecks of gold and hazel in his eyes, almost count the fine lines around his mouth.
“You’ll miss that,” she managed to say.
“That’s not the only thing I’ll miss,” he said softly. And then his lips closed over hers.
For one second she almost believed she could pull back. Then her heart stirred and she melted against him, returning kiss for kiss. She touched his cheek, feeling the faint stubble of beard, the high cheekbone, the curve of his brow. It was as if she’d already memorized how his face would feel and only needed to touch it in confirmation.
His lips moved to her cheek, and he traced a line of soft kisses. “Maggie.”
The sound of her name seemed to bring her back to herself. Slowly, carefully, she drew away. Her heart thudded, and her breath came as if she’d been running. Firelight still flickered, the children still slept. Everything in the room was the same.
Except her.
She wanted to make light of it, wanted to say it was nothing, just a kiss, but she couldn’t. Even now, the weakness seemed to permeate her very bones.
Weakness. She couldn’t be weak. She could never be weak.
She straightened, leaned back, tried to find a way to meet his gaze that wouldn’t betray the fact that he’d cut right through all her defenses as if they were butter.
Grant looked at her with a question in his eyes, as if leaving it to her to say how they would respond to this.
“I don’t think that was a good idea.” She tried for a light touch and feared she failed.
“Right.” He pulled back an inch or two, his smile chilling to something impersonal. “We have to work together. No sense complicating things.”
That was what she thought herself, so why did it bother her so much when he put it into words? She tried to get her wits about her. This was for the best.
“You’ll be leaving Button Gap before long, anyway.”
“Speaking of leaving—” he glanced at his watch, then got to his feet “—I think it’s time I went home.”
“You don’t have to go just because—” Just because you kissed me. “The power might not come back on for hours.”
He shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll be fine. A little cold air might be just the thing right now.” A few strides took him to the door, and then he paused. “Don’t worry about it, Maggie. It was just the firelight.”
She nodded, pinning a smile on her face as he went out into the dark.
Just the firelight. She’d like to believe that. She really would.
Grant paused in the clinic’s hallway, studying the chart for the next patient. Unfortunately he wasn’t exactly thinking about the patient. Maggie’s face kept imposing itself on the medical form, looking the way he’d seen it the previous evening with her eyes dark in the firelight.
He’d kissed her. No big deal. It had been a temporary aberration, brought on by the situation. In the cold light of day, they were both quite ready to forget it ever happened.
Something else had come out of their enforced, snowbound isolation. He and Maggie knew each other considerably better than they had before it happened. He wasn’t sure yet whether that was good or bad.
He glanced toward the desk, where Maggie was leaning over the counter to talk with someone in the waiting room. She’d had to go through a lot to become a nurse. That protectiveness of hers was an asset, and so was her fierce determination. She’d probably never have succeeded without those qualities.
As for the faith that came through in every aspect of her life—well, it was one more barrier between them. If the God he’d once trusted did indeed exist, He’d have to be satisfied with Grant devoting his life to healing, because that was all he had to offer.
The bottom line was that he’d learned to respect Maggie, even to want her friendship. But it was just as well that they both understood anything else was out of the question. He pushed open the exam room door and put her firmly out of his mind.
Three patients later, he was checking out an elderly man with chronic bronchitis when the exam room door flew open.
“We have an emergency out in the woods.” Before he could react, Maggie was handing him his jacket. “We have to go now.”
“Wait a second.” He frowned. “What kind of emergency? I’m in the middle of seeing a patient.”
Maggie gave the elderly man a quick smile. “Harold understands, don’t you, Harold?”
The patient was already sliding off the exam table and reaching for his shirt. “Sure thing, Maggie. You folks go on. I’ll see the doc later.”
As soon as he’d cleared the door, Maggie began filling a bag with supplies.
“The call just came in. A logger, badly hurt, out near Boone’s Hollow. The helicopter can’t land anywhere near them, so we’ll have to go.”
“Any idea of the type of injuries?” He pulled the jacket on, automatically double-checking the equipment she was packing.
She shook her head. “His partner called, badly shaken. Thank goodness for cell phones. It sounds as if his leg is trapped, and he’s bleeding heavily. I gave them emergency instructions before I lost the signal.”
Maggie’s face was grim, and every move was swift and efficient. She’d undoubtedly done this before.
By the time they reached the waiting room, it was already clearing out.
“I’ll lock up,” one woman offered. Her face was vaguely familiar. One of the pie bakers from the pageant rehearsal, he thought.
“Thanks, Mavis.” Maggie just kept moving, apparently confident the woman would handle things.
“I’ll start the prayer chain,” the woman added. She touched his arm as he went by. “Good luck, Doc.” It was oddly like a blessing.
Outside, he started automatically toward his vehicle, but Maggie was already yanking open the door of her battered truck instead.
“We can take mine—” he began, but she shook her head as she stowed the bag behind the seat.
“You don’t want to get yours all scrat
ched up, even if it could make it.” She patted a dented fender. “She might not look pretty, but she’ll get us there.”
She slid behind the steering wheel.
He suppressed the automatic desire to question her decision. Maggie knew the way, presumably, and he didn’t. He was on her turf. He climbed in next to her.
Maggie took off down the still-slushy street, then turned onto the road that went up the mountain. In just a few minutes the dense woods closed in on them on both sides of the snow-covered road.
Road? Grant braced himself with one hand against the dash as the truck hit a rut. It was hardly more than a track.
He glanced at Maggie. “Sure you know the way?”
She nodded, eyes narrowed as she searched the road ahead. “I used to live in this area. I know every foot of it.”
Weak sunshine had melted most of the snow from the streets in the village, but here the mountain loomed over them, casting its perennial shadow. Hemlock branches bowed down with snow slapped the sides of the truck, as if intent on keeping them out. He had a sense of entering a bleak, unforgiving and very alien world.
Nonsense. He shook off the thought. This was an emergency call, nothing more. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d be doing this, but it should have. Out here, they were the first line of medical defense. He looked again at Maggie, and she seemed to feel his gaze.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Then, as they slid around a bend, he realized that wasn’t true. There was something. “You were right about the truck. You’re much more capable of driving this than I am.”
The expression in her eyes told him how surprised she was at his admission. Had he really been so arrogant that she thought him incapable of admitting it when he was wrong?
The road narrowed still more, so that the truck seemed to force its way through the overhanging branches. He spotted a broken mailbox tilting listlessly on a post by a lane that was nothing more than a thread through the forest. Davis, it read in faded letters.
“That was where you lived?”
She nodded, her jaw tight with tension. “About a mile hike back.”
