The Doctor's Christmas

by Marta Perry

  What if God is showing you that the same is true for those children? You did ask for a sign, didn’t you?

  She stood quickly, shaking off the fragments of glass as she shook off the treacherous thought. No, she wouldn’t let herself believe that.

  “Joey, Tacey, Robby, where are you?” She raised her voice. They had to be upstairs.

  A small, scraping noise from the floor above said she was right.

  “Come on down here. I just want to talk to you.” Surely they knew by this time that she didn’t talk with her fists, the way their father had done.

  Another small sound, and then came reluctant footsteps. Tacey and Robby crept down the stairs. They halted at the far edge of the braided rug, not looking at her.

  “Where’s Joey?”

  No answer.

  She crossed to them and knelt. “Come on, guys, I’m not mad. I just want to know what happened to my angel. Did Joey knock it off the tree?”

  Tacey gave an almost imperceptible nod. “He didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

  “Sweetie, I know that. Where is he?” She glanced up the stairs. “Joey? Come on down, okay? I’m not mad at you.”

  Nothing.

  She trotted up the steps, apprehension knotting her stomach. It took two minutes to search the small upstairs. Joey wasn’t there.

  She hurried back down, her imagination racing ahead of her. “Tacey, you need to tell me. Where is Joey?”

  The child didn’t answer, but she looked toward the rack where Joey’s jacket should have hung. It wasn’t there, and his boots were missing.

  She grabbed her own jacket, then swung to look at the other two. “You stay here, all right? I’m going to get Dr. Grant to stay with you.”

  They nodded, eyes wide.

  She yanked the door open. The toboggan was gone from the porch. She hurried down to the yard. Joey must have left while she was upstairs dressing. She could make out small tracks, almost obliterated already by the steadily falling snow.

  “Joey!” She took a breath of cold, wet air. “Joey! Answer me!”

  The back door of Grant’s apartment swung open. He held it wide with one arm. “What’s wrong? Why are you shouting for the boy?”

  She ran toward him, heart pounding. “Is Joey with you? Have you seen him?”

  Grant stepped onto the porch, shaking his head. “Not this morning. Why all the fuss? He probably just came out to play in the snow.”

  “Then where is he?” She spread her hands toward the empty yard. “He knows he’s not to go out of the yard without permission.”

  Grant lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you overreacting a bit? He was probably excited about the snow and wanted to try out his toboggan. It wouldn’t be the first time he forgot to ask permission for something.”

  “This time is different.” Her sense of foreboding intensified. “He apparently knocked my angel off the tree and broke it. Maybe he was scared. He slipped out of the house while I was upstairs.”

  That superior look was replaced by something that might have been concern. “I’m sorry about your angel. I know how much it meant to you. But still, he might just be hiding around the house.”

  “You always like the easy answer, don’t you?” That probably wasn’t fair, but it was what she felt. She swung around, torn by the pull to run in several different directions at once. “I better see what I can get out of the other two.”

  She couldn’t ignore Grant’s quick footsteps behind her as she hurried back into the house. Heedless of the snow she tracked in, she bent down, hands on knees.

  “Tacey, I need to know where Joey went. Come on, now. You have to tell me.”

  Tacey’s lips trembled, and she pressed them together, shaking her head.

  She felt Grant’s hand on her shoulder, and for a fraction of a second she wanted to lean into that strong hand.

  No. She couldn’t. Grant had already shown he wasn’t on her side. She had to do this herself.

  Then Grant knelt next to her. He reached out to draw Tacey into the circle of his arms.

  “Tacey, honey, you have to tell us where Joey is. I know you probably promised him you wouldn’t say, but it’s snowing hard outside, and he could get lost. It’s not wrong to break a promise if it means helping someone else.”

  His voice was soft, gentle, wringing Maggie’s heart. “You know, don’t you?”

  Tacey nodded slowly. “He was afraid. He didn’t mean to break the angel.”

  “Sweetie, I know. I’m not mad.” Maggie brushed a strand of hair back from the child’s forehead. “Just tell us where he went.”

  Tacey sniffled, then rubbed tears away with the back of her hand. “He thought you’d be mad. He took his toboggan. He said he was going to find Mommy, and he wouldn’t come back until he did.”

  The words hit her like a blow. Maggie pressed her hand to her chest, as if that might ease the pain. Joey, out in the snow somewhere, searching for his mother.

  She scrambled to her feet and ran to the phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  Grant was up, too, striding across the room to her.

  “Calling Aunt Elly to stay with the kids.” She punched in the numbers. “I have to go look for him.”

  “You can’t do that alone.”

  “No.” Fresh pain swept her heart. This was one thing she couldn’t do alone. “I’ll get help.”

  “I’m going, too.” His tone was uncompromising.

  “Fine.” She wouldn’t take the time to argue. She hung up. “Aunt Elly doesn’t answer, so she must be on her way. If you want to help, stay here until she comes. Then put on your warmest clothes and come to the church. We’ll organize the search from there.”

  She didn’t give him time to answer, just grabbed her cell phone and heavy boots and ran for the door.

  Help. She had to have help. The thoughts kept time to her running feet. Please, Lord. Please.

  Grant was right. This was one thing she couldn’t do alone.

  He’d never have believed a bunch of volunteers could organize so fast. Grant stood at the back of the sanctuary, watching as the fire chief assigned duties. Judging by his clothing, the man was a barber when he wasn’t setting up a rescue, but he seemed cool and in control.

  They weren’t just fast, they were efficient. They might be volunteers, but they operated as smoothly as any professional unit he’d even seen.

  The sanctuary was crowded with people, summoned by the church bell that had stopped pealing only moments ago. But it didn’t matter how full the room was. His gaze was pulled to Maggie, only Maggie.

  She stood at the front, close by the communion table on which they’d spread a large-scale map of the township. Her face was tense, her body rigid. She was hurting, but she wouldn’t give in to it. Not Maggie. She’d never give in.

  The chief went rapidly through the grid, assigning areas. Those with snowmobiles would search the woods. Others would take the streets and roads.

  Grant thought of the miles of forests on the mountains, and his fists clenched. If the boy had gone that way, what chance did they actually have of finding him, especially in this snowstorm?

  Pastor Jim stepped forward. By the look of his clothes, he intended to be one of the rescue party, but he clearly had something to say in his pastoral role first. He raised his hands, and the sanctuary grew quiet.

  “Friends, let’s pause for a word of prayer.”

  Heads bowed throughout the room.

  “Eternal Father, we know that You see everything. You know where Joey Bascom is right now. We ask that You be with him, keeping him safe, and with us, leading us to him. Amen.”

  Amens chorused through the sanctuary, and people moved quickly toward the doors, lining up in twos and threes. As they went out, several older women bustled in, carrying tureens and coffee urns. Clearly everyone in Button Gap had a role when things went wrong.

  Grant fell into step with Maggie as she hurried toward the door. She shot him a quick, questioning look.


  “You have an idea which way he’s headed, don’t you?”

  She shrugged, trotting down the steps toward her truck. He kept pace with her.

  “Don’t you?” he repeated.

  “I might.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “You should stay here. You might be needed.” Her voice shook a little on that. If Joey was hurt, she meant.

  “I can be reached on the cell phone.”

  “I don’t want—”

  He caught her arm, turning her to face him, frustration and fear warring inside him. “Face facts, Maggie. I know you want to do everything by yourself, but you can’t. If you do find him, you’ll need someone along to help. Like it or not, I’m going with you.”

  He could see emotion surging beneath the surface, but she set her mouth and nodded. She jerked a nod toward the truck, and he scrambled in.

  She whipped down the street, then turned onto the narrow back road they’d taken the day they’d gone to help the injured man back in the woods. The windshield wipers fought against the thick, wet snow—huge flakes that piled up swiftly and would hamper the search.

  “Why do you think he came this way?” If he didn’t pump her, he didn’t think she’d say a word.

  “We were out by my family’s house one day in the fall. I pointed out the logging trail that went over the mountain.” Her face lost a little more color, if possible. “He’d know we’d look along the main road. I can’t be sure, but it’s worth a try.”

  Poor Maggie. She had something else to blame herself for. “You couldn’t imagine these circumstances. It’s not your fault.”

  “It’s my responsibility.”

  The truck skidded as she took a bend too fast, and she fought the wheel. He grabbed it, helping her regain control.

  “Take it easy. We can’t help him if we smash ourselves up.”

  If she heard, she didn’t acknowledge his words. She seemed to force the truck on by sheer willpower, barreling through the thickly piled snow. He braced his hand against the dash, sure they’d end up smashed against a tree, but she kept it going somehow.

  If they didn’t find Joey safe… He couldn’t begin to see all the ramifications of that. Plenty of lives would be smashed then, that he knew.

  The truck barreled along, its cab a warm cocoon protecting them from the storm. They reached the turnoff to the house where she’d once lived. The dilapidated mailbox still hung from its post, but the lane was drifted shut.

  She hesitated, gunning the motor, and he grabbed her hand.

  “Don’t, Maggie. We’ll need the truck usable if we find him. We’ll have to walk in.”

  She held out against him for a moment, and then she nodded. “You’re right.”

  She turned off the motor and slid out of the cab. He followed suit, slogging around the truck.

  Maggie stared at the narrow lane. “What if I’m wrong? He may not be anywhere near here.”

  He spotted faint traces in the snow. “Look. The toboggan could have made those marks.”

  She looked doubtful. “It could have been an animal.” She pulled out her cell phone, then shoved it back in her pocket. “We’d better find out for sure before we call people off any other area.”

  Nodding, he pulled his collar up and struck into the lane. He sank to above his knees at the first step. “It’ll be slow going.”

  “I know.” She was right behind him, her face set and determined.

  He struggled on a few more arduous steps, apprehension growing. Maybe those had been animal tracks.

  “How could he possibly have gotten through this? It’s so deep, I can hardly make it.”

  “He could.” Her voice was thick, as if with tears. “He’s a strong little kid, and he had a head start on us. It wouldn’t have been as deep an hour ago.” She choked back a sob. “I have to believe that. I have to.”

  He reached out to grab her hand, pulling her through the deep drift. “I know.” He sought for anything that would comfort her. “He’s smart, too.”

  Maggie nodded, but her eyes were bleak, almost dead.

  She won’t survive if we lose this child. Who was he talking to? The God he wasn’t sure he believed in anymore? You have to help.

  God hadn’t saved Jason. What made him think He’d save Joey?

  She had to pull herself together. She couldn’t give in to her fear.

  Help us, Father. Help Joey. Your children need you so desperately today.

  Grant’s hand gripped hers, pulling her along through the deepest of drifts. Maybe that was part of God’s answer. She hadn’t wanted Grant with her today. She would have come alone if she could have.

  And that would have been wrong. She couldn’t do this alone.

  Thank You. I wish Grant and I could at least be friends, but even if we can’t, thank You for sending him with me today.

  “Wait.” Breathless, she caught Grant’s hand with both of hers. “There’s the logging road.” She nodded toward the cleft in the trees, barely perceptible in the thick snow.

  He frowned. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look like much.”

  “I’m sure.” A shiver went through her, not entirely from the cold. She knew every inch of this terrain. “I don’t see how he could have gone that way, not without leaving a trace.”

  Grant pointed down the lane toward the house. “There. Doesn’t that look like the marks the toboggan would leave?”

  She didn’t want to go down that way. She had to. “It could be. Joey knows where the house is—what’s left of it, anyway. He might have gone there for shelter.”

  Grant’s fingers tightened on hers. She felt the reassurance of his grasp through her thick gloves, warming her.

  He knew how she left about the place. How could he not? Pointless, now, to try and disguise her fears or anything else from him.

  “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.” The promise from Isaiah echoed in her mind, and a fresh spurt of energy propelled her forward.

  “Let’s go.”

  Again Grant forged ahead, pushing his legs through the deepening snow. If not for the track he made breaking the snow, she might not have made it.

  They struggled around the bend, and the house loomed ahead of them. Or maybe loomed wasn’t the right word for something that was tumbling down into itself as if from the sheer weight of unhappiness it had seen.

  “Joey!” She coughed a little on the intake of cold air. “Joey, are you here? Answer me!”

  The snow seemed to muffle her call, and nothing else broke the silence.

  “Joey Bascom!” Grant added his voice to hers. “Where are you?”

  He looked at her, eyes questioning. “It doesn’t look disturbed, and it definitely doesn’t look safe. Maybe we’re on the wrong track.”

  “No.” Improbable as it was, a sense of certainty swept through her. “He’s here. I know he’s here.”

  “Maggie—”

  She pushed forward, closer to the place she’d never wanted to see again. “We have to check. We can’t come this far and just walk away.”

  He followed her, and she felt his doubts. Did he think she was clinging to straws?

  He brushed past her, leaning forward to peer into a broken window. “The whole roof is down, Maggie. There’s not much shelter.”

  “He’s here.” She scrambled forward to grab at what had been exposed by Grant’s movement. “Look.” She pulled the toboggan free of the snow.

  In a moment Grant had pushed away the rotted door and climbed into the house. He reached back a hand for her.

  “Here, but where? Joey!”

  He wasn’t saying the thing he feared. That Joey didn’t answer because he couldn’t. That they were too late.

  “The root cellar.” She shoved past him, heading for the old summer kitchen. “He could shelter there.” She had, more times than she cared to remember.

  She yanked at the door, then stumbled down the three steps, jerking the flashlight from her pock
et. “Joey?”

  “There.” Grant jumped down the steps, rushed to the side wall where a whole section of shelves had fallen. Beneath the shelves—

  “Joey!” She couldn’t breathe as she stumbled across to him. He was so still, so white. Father—

  Grant dropped to his knees, shoving the wooden shelves out of his way.

  She dropped next to him, and she had to fight to hold the light steady on Joey’s face. “Is he—”

  Grant’s hands moved swiftly and surely over the child’s body. Then he looked up, and his smile blazed. “He’s breathing.”

  “Thank God.” Her tears spilled over, but she smiled back at him, feeling an instant of perfect harmony, perfect gratitude. “Thank God.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grant turned his attention firmly to the boy. That was the thing to do—think of him as any anonymous patient who’d been brought into the emergency room. Don’t think of the little boy whose eyes had filled with wonder at the sight of that red toboggan. That way lay weakness, and he couldn’t afford to be weak.

  He cleared the debris carefully away from the child’s shoulder and head. The arm lay at a bad angle.

  “Looks like a dislocated elbow.” He ran his hands along the boy’s arms. “I don’t think there’s a break, but I’d like to see an X ray.”

  Maggie was checking pulse and respiration. “Vitals look good. If he’s been unconscious—”

  She didn’t finish that sentence, probably because at that moment Joey’s eyelids flickered and opened.

  “Maggie,” he whispered. “Doc.” He managed a smile. “I was asleep. I dreamed you came.”

  “Looks like your dream came true.” Maggie touched his cheek gently. She sounded perfectly calm, as if they hadn’t been hovering on the razor edge of disaster a few moments earlier.

  “You’d better call this in.” His voice was sharper than he intended it to be. “We’ll need some help getting him out of here.”

  She sent him a questioning look, then nodded and moved toward the steps as she pulled out the cell phone. As he checked the child over carefully, he listened to the joy in her voice.

  Maggie was happy. Resentment knifed its way into his thoughts. Had she forgotten so quickly why they were in this mess? If Jason—