Free Secret Santa by Cynthia Reese

been a meticulous man...in his notes, in his charting, in his dictation.
    With a shaking hand, she set the notebook aside to read it more carefully later. There had to be an explanation.
    The red light on the phone blinked insistently. Charli marshaled her strength and punched the button.
    “Yes?” she asked, her eyes straying to the notebook.
    “Dr. Prescott, I am so sorry to bother you, this is Louredes Garcia, over at the community clinic.” The woman rushed the intro as though she was afraid Charli would hang up. “Your receptionist said you were about to leave for the day, and I really hate—”
    “What’s the problem?”
    “Our nurse practitioner is out with the flu, and our backup doctor is out on medical leave. We have a waiting room stacked. Is there...? There’s no way—I’m sorry. I mean, your father has just passed away and all. I shouldn’t have asked you....”
    Charli recalled the Hispanic names in the notebook. Could the money in the safe deposit box have something to do with the clinic? “Didn’t my father help you?”
    “Yes, yes, he did. He was very generous with his time. And we couldn’t have had this clinic without him.”
    “Then I can help for a while this evening. It’s the least I can do.”
    “ ¡Es increíble! Thank you, thank you! You are a miracle!”
    * * *
    I NSIDE THE CLINIC , the slightly dingy waiting room was packed. A roomful of people turned their faces to take her in like sunflowers in a field. A cluster of dark-haired tots played under the clinic’s white plastic Christmas tree, shaking what Charli hoped were fake presents. ¡Feliz Navidad! banners and Santa cutouts were liberally sprinkled around the walls, and despite the Spanish lyrics, Charli could recognize the tune of “Jingle Bells” over the speakers.
    A murmur swept through the room and she could see elbows jabbing into neighbors’ ribs. Clearly, they were excited to see her.
    Not as excited as Louredes Garcia. “ ¡No me lo puedo creer! You really came! I can’t believe it! Thank you!” The short, plump woman’s dark eyes snapped with joy.
    Charli’s conscience nagged at her. If she hadn’t hoped to find some clue about the money and her father’s notes, would she have said yes so quickly? “It’s my pleasure,” she said simply. “Show me where I’m supposed to be.”
    Four hours later, well past eight, Charli was numb with exhaustion. She’d treated six ear infections, two cases of the flu, four sprains, two pulled backs and a host of stomach ailments, and now, her last patient had sky-high glucose readings.
    Louredes hovered near her shoulder, waiting for her recommendation so she could translate.
    Charli reviewed the thick file. The man’s A1C readings had stayed high, his kidney functions had been abominable the last time he’d had them checked and now he had the beginnings of an ulcer on his foot.
    He sat on the exam table, his hands folded, his mouth a straight line.
    “Louredes, he needs to be in the hospital. We’ve got to get these readings stabilized, and that foot is only going to get worse. Plus, I’m afraid he’s heading for renal failure. Can you tell him all this?”
    But Louredes didn’t immediately start translating. She shook her head. “Dr. Prescott, he’s got no insurance, and his permit is a work permit, so if he goes in the hospital, he’ll lose his job, and then he’ll be illegal.”
    Charli sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “How’d he get in this situation? Has he been educated on diet? And is he compliant? Does he check his blood sugar at all?”
    Louredes burst into the Spanish Charli wished she’d become fluent in. Spanish 101 and 102 seemed a distant memory and a completely foreign language to what she’d been hearing that afternoon.
    The man rumbled back a response that was accompanied by an accusing look of scorn in Charli’s direction. He folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin.
    “He does check his blood sugar, but he