The Doctor's Christmas. Marta Perry
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She could only hope she didn’t sound as stupid as she felt. “Good night.”
She turned and ran after the children, knowing she was trying to run from herself.
Grant let out a sigh of relief as Maggie closed the outer door of the clinic behind the final patient on Monday afternoon and snapped the lock. She flipped the sign to Closed, not that it would actually stop anyone.
“Are we really done for the day?”
He’d been busier than this in the hospital emergency room, of course. Certainly he’d worked longer hours, especially as an intern. But somehow the clinic seemed a heavier responsibility, maybe because there was no one here to back him up except Maggie.
“That’s the last of them.” Maggie gathered files from the desk. “Congratulations.”
He lifted an eyebrow, trying not to think about how soft her lips looked, or how he’d almost made the mistake of kissing them on Saturday night. “For what?”
“That was a good catch on Elsie Warner’s pregnancy. Some docs wouldn’t have seen it.”
He shrugged. “Hopefully it will be nothing, but the ultrasound will tell us for sure. Better to be forewarned than caught unprepared.”
It had been routine, of course. There was no reason to feel elated at the glow of approval in Maggie’s eyes.
“Well, you did a good job. And you’ve been accepted. That steady stream of patients means that the word has gotten around that you’re okay.”
He considered that, ridiculously pleased. “Sure it wasn’t just the lure of a free checkup?”
“I told you, they don’t take charity.” She nodded toward the desk’s surface. “You now have three jars of preserves, two of honey, a pound of bacon from the hog the Travis family just slaughtered and a couple of loaves of homemade bread.”
He took a step nearer to Maggie, reminding himself not to get too close. He didn’t want to feel that irrational pull of attraction again, did he?
“So deluging me with food is the sign of acceptance in Button Gap?”
“It is.” Her full lips curved in a smile. “Don’t tell me the big-city doc actually appreciates that.”
“Hey, nobody ever brought me honey before.” He picked up a jar, holding it to the light to admire the amber color. “You sure this is safe?”
“Of course it’s safe.” Her exasperated tone seemed to set a safety zone between them. “Toby Watkins’s bees produce the best honey in the county.”
“Well, I can’t eat all this stuff on my own, and you have kids to feed. We’ll share.”
“You could take some back home to Baltimore with you when you go. Give it to your family.”
He shook his head. “My mother doesn’t eat anything but salads and grilled fish, as far as I can tell.” He grimaced. “She might gain an ounce.”
He tried to picture his cool, elegant mother in Button Gap. Impossible.
“You live with your family, do you?”
“No.” He clipped off the word. The Hardesty mansion, as cool and elegant as his mother, hadn’t been a place anyone could call home in years. But he wouldn’t tell Maggie that.
“I have an apartment close to the hospital. It only made sense to be nearby when I was doing my internship and residency.”
“Will you stay there when your month here is up?”
“Well, that depends.” He put the jar down, and his hand brushed hers. At once that awareness he’d been avoiding came flooding back.
And they were alone in the quiet room with dusk beginning to darken the windows.
Maggie cleared her throat, as if she’d been visited by the same thought. “Depends on what?”
“In a way, on what happens here.” He folded his arms across his chest, propped his hip against the table and kept talking to block feeling anything. “I’m being considered for a place in one of the best general practices in the city. The chief partner is a big supporter of the Volunteer Doctors program.”
Maggie stared at him. “Is that why you came here? To impress him?”
“He suggested it. He said volunteering would be good experience—that I’d learn to relate to patients in a whole new way.”
Actually, Dr. Rawlins had been rather more direct than that.
Technically, you’re a good doctor, Hardesty, but you keep too thick a wall between yourself and your patients. I don’t want a physician who gets too emotional, but I have to see some passion. Maybe you’ll find that if you get into a new situation.
Rawlins was the best, and Grant wanted that partnership. So he’d taken the advice, even though he wasn’t sure passion was his forte. Being a good physician ought to be enough.
“And is it working?” Maggie’s question was tart, and he remembered what she’d said about volunteers coming here to pad up their résumés.
Anger welled up, surprisingly strong. She didn’t have the right to judge him.
“What’s wrong, Maggie? Isn’t that an altruistic enough motive for you?”
She stiffened, hands pressed against the desk. “It’s none of my business why you came.”
“No? Then why are you looking at me as if you’re judging me?”
“I’m not.” She turned away, the stiffness of her shoulders denying the words. “I suppose we’re just lucky that our needs happen to coincide with yours.”
They were lucky. The people of Button Gap got his services for a month at no cost to the community, and he got the experience he needed to land the position he wanted. It was a fair exchange.
So it didn’t matter to him in the least that knowing his motives had disillusioned Maggie.
Not in the least.
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