The Doctor's Christmas

by Marta Perry

  He stopped, appalled at himself. This wasn’t Jason. He looked at the boy, and for a moment the face in front of him wavered. It almost looked like his brother’s face from so long ago.

  No. What had made him think such a crazy thing? This was Joey.

  Maggie came back, slipping the phone into her pocket. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” She smiled at Joey. “We’ll have you snug and warm in no time.”

  He touched the child’s forehead. “I can’t figure out why he’s not colder than he is. He’s been exposed to the weather for hours.”

  Joey wiggled a little. “It’s not so cold in here. I remembered what Maggie said about the root cellar.”

  He glanced at her, lifting his eyebrows. “Root cellar?”

  “We always kept vegetables in the root cellar in the winter. It’s underground, so it stays at an even temperature. Joey was pretty smart to remember that.”

  “You were pretty smart to realize he might be here.” He sat back on his heels, trying for a normal tone of voice. He wouldn’t think about that moment when he’d confused Joey with his brother. Nor about his anger with her for getting them into this mess to begin with. He’d stay coolly professional.

  Something changed in her face, just for a second. “I used to hide here.”

  Joey might think she meant as a game. He knew better. Maggie was talking about hiding from her father.

  The images battered at him—Maggie cowering in a dirty corner. Maggie shivering, waiting for the door to burst open. He tried futilely to push the thoughts away. He seemed to have no emotional barricades left. He hated that.

  The roar of a snowmobile motor broke the silence. Someone shouted from outside, and Maggie hurried up the steps.

  “Here,” she called. “We’re here.”

  In moments the tiny cellar was filled to overflowing with people, pushing out all the ugly images.

  “We brought the rescue truck, Doc.” The barber/ fire chief carried a litter down the steps. “We can put the litter on one of the snowmobiles to get him out to it.”

  He started to say they’d better carry the litter, and then remembered their struggle through the knee-deep snow to get here. The man was right. That would be safer.

  “Good.” He reached for the kit, but one of the volunteers already had a neck collar ready to put in his hand. “We’ll immobilize his neck and arm first.”

  It was reassuring to have familiar equipment at hand, comforting to go through the familiar movements. He could block out those moments when he’d seen his brother’s face on Joey. When he’d seen a small Maggie cowering in the corner, weak and afraid.

  In minutes they were ready to transport. Willing hands seized the litter and bore it gently to the waiting snowmobile. The motor purred. The driver moved off slowly and carefully with his precious cargo, several volunteers walking on either side.

  He started to follow, but someone hustled him onto another waiting snowmobile. How had they all gotten here so quickly? The once-deserted area around the derelict house teemed with people, all trying to do something to help.

  His snowmobile driver roared through the woods, apparently feeling no need to go slowly with him. He dismounted at the emergency truck and pulled open the rear door. Before he could do more than glance inside, another snowmobile roared to a stop next to him. Maggie got off, lifting her hand in thanks as the driver swung around.

  “I want Joey taken straight to the nearest hospital,” he said. “We’ll ride with him.”

  Maggie shoved wet bangs out of her face. “That’s not a good idea.”

  His jaw tightened until it felt as if it would break. As usual, Maggie seemed to think she knew better than he did.

  “This is no time to worry about someone finding out about the Bascoms.”

  She blinked. “That never entered my mind.” She lifted her hands. “Look around. The snow hasn’t let up—if anything, it’s worse. The chopper won’t fly in this, and the roads are bound to be bad. Jostling him along forty miles of slippery roads isn’t going to help a dislocated elbow.”

  “He needs more sophisticated care than we can provide.”

  Was that the reason? What was wrong with him, that he’d let his professional judgment be hampered by this place and these people?

  Maggie looked at him gravely, as if she knew what was going on beneath the surface.

  She couldn’t know. No one could.

  The snowmobile with the litter pulled up. All he could see was Joey’s small face as they lifted him into the van. Joey’s face. Not Jason. Joey.

  Maggie stepped closer. “Grant.” She lowered her voice. “He really is better off at the clinic.”

  He didn’t want this. He didn’t have a choice. He gave a curt nod and climbed into the back of the van.

  Maggie paused outside the clinic door a few hours later, taking a breath, lifting an almost wordless prayer. Joey had been treated with Grant’s usual skill, and he was safely tucked up in bed with Aunt Elly in attendance and half the village running in and out bringing food or offering to watch the other children. Crisis over, she should be able to relax.

  But she couldn’t. Aside from every other worry, something was wrong with Grant. She’d felt his tension, so strong it vibrated through the room the entire time he’d taken care of Joey. Felt it, but not understood it.

  Help me, Lord. I don’t know what’s going on within Grant. Show me how to help him.

  She opened the door and went inside.

  Grant stood at the desk, his head bent, hands braced on its surface. He’d changed into dry slacks and a gray sweater, and he should have looked warm, dry and relieved. He didn’t.

  Please, Lord.

  “Joey’s tucked into bed and nearly asleep. One more story from Aunt Elly should do it.”

  Grant turned his head to look at her, and the inimical expression in his eyes nearly stopped her heart.

  “Why are you looking like that?” The question came out involuntarily. “He’s all right. You should be happy.”

  “Happy?” His voice rose, and he took a step toward her. “I don’t see much to be happy about in this situation.”

  “But he’s all right,” she repeated, not sure what else to say. Was he still worried that Joey needed more sophisticated care than they could provide? “You did everything they’d have done if we’d taken him to the hospital. He couldn’t have received better care than you gave him.”

  “That’s not the point. Don’t you see that we can’t be responsible for these children? Today should have made you face reality. Don’t you realize that Jason could have died out there?”

  For a moment she could only stare at him. “Joey. Not Jason.” Then, as if a curtain had been pulled back, she knew. “Jason was your brother.”

  He looked gaunt suddenly, as if all the life and strength had been drawn out of him. “Joey. I meant Joey.”

  She’d asked God how to help him. Perhaps she was hearing the answer.

  “Joey reminds you of your brother, doesn’t he?”

  “No.” His mouth tightened. “They’re totally different.”

  “Externally, maybe. But something about Joey still reminds you of him.” She took a step, closing the gap between them, and put her hand on his arm. It felt like wood beneath her fingers. “Tell me, Grant. What happened to Jason?”

  His face was so rigid it was a wonder he could move his lips. “He died. Childhood leukemia.”

  Her heart hurt for him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That was a long time ago. It doesn’t have anything to do with what’s happening now.”

  “Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does.” A certainty that could only come from God pushed her on. “For some reason, you relate to Joey in the way you did to your brother. And you don’t want to.”

  “No, I don’t want to!” His reserve broke, so suddenly that the wave of emotion nearly knocked her off balance. “I can’t. I can’t be a decent doctor if I let myself see Jason in every child I treat.”

/>   He tried to turn away, but she tightened her grasp, holding him. She couldn’t let him retreat from this. Once he went back behind those protective barriers, he’d never come out again.

  “You can’t be a decent doctor if you’re afraid to care.”

  “You sound like Dr. Rawlins. That was why he talked me into coming here. He thought I’d find some passion for my patients here.” His hands clenched. “He thought Button Gap would make me open up. It’s just shown me I was right all along.”

  “No.” She wanted to shake him, as if that would make him see how painfully wrong he was. “You can’t shut yourself off from people because you’re afraid to lose them the way you lost your brother.”

  He whitened. She’d probably gone too far, but she couldn’t stop now.

  “You can’t live that way, Grant.” Her voice went soft, almost trembling with her need to reach him. “No one can.”

  His mouth curled in a mirthless smile. “Sure they can. My parents have been doing it for years.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My mother uses her social whirl, my father uses his business. They haven’t felt a thing since the day we buried my brother.”

  She’d thought she already hurt as much as she could for him, but that revelation sliced into her heart. They hadn’t felt a thing for him, the child they had left. “Who comforted you?” Not his parents, that was clear.

  “I didn’t need comforting. I don’t need it now. I just need to—”

  “What? Stop caring? Stop grieving? You can’t shut other people out of your life.”

  He probably hadn’t ever truly grieved for his loss. How could he, when his parents had blocked themselves off from caring? Her heart wept for him.

  He shook her hand off, his face a mask of denied pain. “Leave it alone, Maggie. You’re not exactly an advertisement for relying on other people yourself.”

  She felt as if he’d hit her. She caught her breath and fought to be honest, knowing only honesty could possibly reach him.

  “Maybe so. I’ve been so determined not to be weak, like my mother was, that I couldn’t accept help.”

  Why couldn’t you be strong, Mama? Why couldn’t you protect me? She struggled for control.

  “Don’t you see, Grant? That’s something taking care of those kids made me face. I had to have help, and I got it. Button Gap didn’t let me down—not when I was eleven, and not today.”

  “You belong here,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t. In a few more days, I won’t have Button Gap. I’ll be back in my real life.”

  “Back to helping people only when you can do it from a safe distance? Back to letting your white coat insulate you from caring?”

  “That’s my choice.”

  They’d come full circle. It was his choice.

  “You’re right.” She clasped her hands to keep from reaching out to him. He didn’t want her touch. “You can go straight back into that hard, cold shell of yours. It’ll keep you safe from anything raw or painful. You can just go on blaming God.”

  A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw, the only sign a living human being existed behind the mask he wore. Maybe she’d probed the sorest spot of all.

  “If God is there, He could have saved Jason.” Implacable. He couldn’t give an inch.

  God alone knew the answer to that hard question. He knew, too, how much she’d struggled with it. Why did the innocent suffer? Maybe everyone had to deal with that one alone.

  “God is there.” Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t know why your brother died, but I know God was there, holding him in His hands. I know God is ready to help you deal with it, if you’ll let Him.”

  His face was closed and barred against her. “I don’t want Him to. I don’t need help. Not from Him. Not from you.”

  He grabbed his jacket and slammed his way out of the clinic. The door seemed to close on her heart.

  She’d tried. She’d failed. Grant was lost to her for good. Worse, she was afraid he was lost to the only One who could help him.

  By the time he stopped reacting and started thinking, Grant realized he’d walked to the edge of the village. He hadn’t bothered to zip his jacket, and the cold air seemed to permeate his very bones.

  He zipped the jacket, pulling the collar up. He should go back. The snow had stopped falling, finally, but dusk was drawing in. This was no time to be out on a cold, lonely lane in the middle of nowhere.

  He didn’t want to go back. Didn’t want to see anyone, speak to anyone. He particularly didn’t want to see Maggie.

  Maggie.

  He shoved his fists into his pockets and looked up at the dark mountainside. His anger flared again, white-hot. How dare she say those things? She should be grateful to him instead of attacking him.

  Maggie wouldn’t see it as an attack, of course. She thought she was helping, as if taking a scalpel to his soul could possibly help him.

  He’d spoken the truth, and she hadn’t been able to take it. She couldn’t accept the fact that he’d chosen to live his life cut off from God.

  Maggie didn’t understand. She didn’t know what it was like, how he felt…

  Didn’t she?

  Shame burned into him. Maggie was probably the only person who knew what he felt. She was certainly the only one he’d revealed anything to in years.

  And Maggie couldn’t be accused of having life easy. After what she’d gone through, how did she even manage to get up in the morning, let alone carve out a full, useful life for herself?

  He knew the answer she’d give if he asked her the question. The one she called Father had brought her through it. She didn’t see why the same didn’t apply to him.

  Because I can’t forgive You.

  The thought, coming from somewhere deep inside him, shocked him with its bone-deep honesty. Maybe he’d been kidding himself about a lot of things, but that, at least, was true. He hadn’t forgiven God for taking Jason.

  Those last days, with nurses taking over the house and running their lives—the images flooded in upon him. They hadn’t let him see Jason. He’d curled miserably behind the drapes in the hall window seat, where he could watch the door to Jason’s room, waiting for a chance to sneak in and see him.

  The last day had been like this one—snow in the air, and the dusk drawing in early. Shadows had filled the hallway, as if they waited, too.

  Save him. He’d gone beyond tears, beyond bargaining, beyond demanding. All his prayers had come down to those two words. Save him.

  Now he glared up at the darkening sky, not sure whether he was the hurting boy or the grown man. You took away the person who meant the most to me. What do You want from me now?

  There wasn’t an answer now. Any more than there’d been an answer then.

  Maybe it was better not to believe God existed. Then, at least, he’d have known there wasn’t any hope.

  The cold seeped through the soles of his boots, into his bones, into his soul. He turned, looking back toward Button Gap.

  Lamps were on now, glowing warmly in windows. The strings of Christmas lights on the tree in front of the post office blinked red and green, and the stained-glass windows of the church gleamed like jewels against the white snow that blanketed the village.

  Above, the mountains loomed dark and cold, but the first star made a pale point of light.

  He exhaled, watching his breath form steam in the air. Still. Silent. Nothing moving, nothing speaking. Nothing touching him. He was as cold and isolated as the star.

  Something floated toward him through the dusk. The notes of the piano, then the treble of children’s voices.

  “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright…”

  It was Christmas Eve. The children were practicing for the pageant that would begin in another hour.

  Maggie would be there, directing them and smiling as if nothing had happened. She probably expected him to walk in and take his place in the pew, pretending everything was normal.

  He couldn’t.
>
  You don’t have to stay. The thought formed without volition. No one expects you to work out the week. You can pack and go. You never have to think of Button Gap and Maggie again.

  Even now he couldn’t convince himself that he’d dismiss Maggie from his thoughts so easily. But he could leave.

  He started walking, his footsteps making little sound on the snow-packed lane. He’d pack and leave. He didn’t have to go to his parents’ house. He could hole up in a hotel somewhere until the holiday was safely over.

  You can go straight back into that hard, cold shell of yours. He hadn’t managed to get Maggie’s voice out of his head yet. He’d have to try harder. You can let your white coat insulate you from caring.

  Leave me alone. He didn’t know if he was speaking to Maggie or to the God he wasn’t sure he believed in. Just leave me alone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, and fit us for heaven to live with Thee there.”

  The final notes of the old carol died away, and the children looked at Maggie expectantly.

  “Wonderful.” She managed to smile. “That’s perfect. Just you sing it that way in the performance, and everyone will absolutely love it.”

  People were already filtering into the pews, talking softly so as not to disturb the rehearsal. They didn’t mind that they’d see and hear the same thing again in half an hour. This was part of Christmas for them.

  “Okay.” She clapped her hands. “You can go and get your costumes on now. Mind, no running. I don’t want any broken angel wings.”

  Released, the children scrambled off the chancel steps, toward the helpers who had costumes spread out over the pews. For a second she could breathe. She could think.

  Maybe it would be better not to have time to think. In only a moment of quiet, the pain surged back out of hiding, ready to sink sharp teeth into her again.

  “And fit us for heaven, to live with Thee there.”

  Grant’s brother had lived those words the children sang so cheerfully. Surely God’s hands had been around him, safe and comforting, in those last minutes.