The Doctor's Christmas. Marta Perry

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      She swung around, the beam of the flashlight glancing off rickety wooden shelves lined with dusty canning jars. A wave of discomfort hit her, and she went quickly to the stairs.

      “The furnace will keep running until the thermostat clicks off, but it’s always a little drafty upstairs. I hope you brought a few sweaters.” I hope you decide this isn’t for you.

      If he left, they’d be without a doctor until after the holidays. If he stayed—

      She didn’t have any illusions about his reaction if he discovered the secret she hid. No one else in Button Gap would give her away, but he might.

      “I’ll make do,” he said. He closed the cellar door behind them.

      Grant wouldn’t have a chance to give her away, because he’d never know. She’d make sure of that.

      “Do you have a family, Maggie?”

      Her heart stopped. “No. Why do you ask?”

      His gaze fixed on her face, frowning, as if he considered a diagnosis. “I thought I saw a kid at your window when I arrived.”

      “That must have been Calico.” She tried for a light laugh. “My cat. She loves to sit in the window and watch the birds. You probably saw her.”

      He gave her a cool, superior look that said he wasn’t convinced. “Must have been, I guess.”

      Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. Really I am. But isn’t protecting some of Your little ones worth a white lie?

      Somehow she didn’t think God weighed sins the way she’d like Him to.

      And she also had a sinking feeling that told her she might not get rid of Grant Hardesty anytime soon.

      “So you lied to the man, child?” Aunt Elly looked up from the piecrust she was rolling out on Maggie’s kitchen table, her faded blue eyes shrewd behind her steel-rimmed glasses.

      “I didn’t want to.” The defensive note in her voice made her sound eleven again, trying every trick in the foster-kid book on Aunt Elly before realizing the woman knew them all and loved her anyway. “But I didn’t want him to find out about the Bascoms.”

      She shot a glance toward the living room, where Tacey, five, and Robby, four, were playing some kind of a game. Joey, at eight considering himself the man of the family, wasn’t in her line of sight. He’d probably curled up with a book on the couch, keeping an eye on his siblings. She lowered her voice.

      “You don’t know what he’s like. Stiff-necked, by-the-book and arrogant to boot. I can’t take the risk of letting him know about the kids. He’s the type to call social services the minute he knew.”

      Aunt Elley fitted the top crust over apple slices from her own McIntosh tree. “So you been saying, child. But you don’t know that for sure. Might be good to have a doctor handy with three rambunctious kids in the house.”

      “I can take care of them. Besides, Nella will be back soon.” She wouldn’t give in to the fear that Nella Bascom, having lived with an abusive husband for too many years, just didn’t have it in her to raise her kids alone.

      “You heard anything more from her?” Aunt Elly slid the pie into the oven and closed the door.

      “Three cards and one phone call.” She nodded at the Christmas card she’d taped on the refrigerator where the children could see it every day. “She says she’ll be back for Christmas. That’s what she said in the note she left with the kids in the office.”

      Shock had hit her when she’d opened the office that morning and found the Bascom kids in the waiting room. Tacey and Robby had been curled up like a pair of kittens, sleeping since Nella had left them at dawn. Joey had been watching over them.

      “Nella will come back,” she said again firmly, as if Aunt Elly had argued with her. “Once she gets used to the idea that her husband isn’t around to hurt her anymore, she’ll adjust.”

      “You could go looking for her.”

      She could. The postmarks told her Nella had run to the small West Virginia town where she’d once lived. “I’ve thought about it. Prayed about it. But—”

      Aunt Elly nodded. “You figure if Nella’s going to have strength enough to raise those youngsters on her own, she’d best come back on her own.”

      “She will. And I’m not going to let those kids get sucked into the system in the meantime. Nella would probably never get them back if that happened.”

      They both knew what Maggie had experienced in the foster care system. It lay unspoken between them.

      “I reckon Button Gap can take care of its own,” Aunt Elly said. She glanced out the kitchen window. “But it looks like you’ll have to tell the new doc something.”

      “Why?” She slid off her stool, dusting her hands on her jeans.

      “’Cause here he comes, and he’s got ahold of Joey by the collar.”

      Before Maggie could move, a knock thundered at the door. Shooting Aunt Elly an appalled look, she moved to open it.

      Grant stood on her step, holding Joey by his frayed jacket collar. “This kid belong to you?”

      “Not exactly.” She grabbed the boy, pulling him inside the kitchen. “He’s a friend. What are you doing with him?”

      “I found him in the cellar.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “He was trying to dismantle my furnace.”

      “He can’t have been.” Her rejection was automatic, but her heart sank. Actually, he could. Joey was fascinated by all things mechanical. Worse, he might have heard her earlier and decided to help the new doctor go away.

      “Yes, he was.” Grant planted his hands on his hips, glowering at her. Then he seemed to become aware of Aunt Elly, watching him with what might have been an appreciative twinkle in her eyes. And of Tacey and Robby, standing in the doorway, looking scared. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

      “Not company.” Aunt Elly wiped her hand on the sprigged apron she wore over a faded housedress, then extended it to him. “I’m Aunt Elly. I guess you’re the new doctor.”

      “Grant Hardesty.” He sent Maggie an annoyed glance. “I thought you said you didn’t have any family. Your aunt—”

      “Nope, not her aunt.” Aunt Elly was obviously enjoying herself. “Ellenora Glenning, if you want to be formal.”

      “Mrs. Glenning—” he began.

      “Call me Aunt Elly,” she said. “Everyone does.” She grabbed her bulky gray sweater from the coat hook inside the door. “I’d better get, Maggie. Watch that pie. And you children behave yourselves, you hear?” She twinkled at Grant. “You two can probably fight better without me here.”

      She scooted out the door, leaving Maggie to face the music.

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