Free One Christmas Knight by Robyn Grady Page A

past October. Things the authorities were still trying to figure out.
    Judd tipped his worn peak cap at them both as he stopped by the reception area’s coffee pot. “Mahnin’.”
    With her cheeks flushed, Emma summoned a neutral smile. “How’d the job go at Whitecross Street, Judd?”
    “Drain’s working just fine now. Just fine.”
    Judd poured himself a steaming cup, and then handed over what looked like an invoice. Emma set it down on the counter next to that troublesome card.
    “I don’t have anything more for you today,” she said.
    “Guess I’ll grab a bagel at Millers then.” Judd’s pale blue eyes twinkled Damon’s way. “Millers Bakery in Main Street. Best Whoopie pies on the coast.”
    Over previous months, Damon had enjoyed Millers goods many times himself. He’d even spoken to Judd there more than once, only Judd never seemed to remember him. Nothing dementia related, Damon was certain. More a mindset. A New Englander’s belief in the order of things.
    A phone rang—a tinkling Jingle Bells type tune that reminded Damon of family and all their Christmases past. Good times. Close times. He couldn’t wait to see them again. Five days to go.
    Emma checked her cell phone’s ID. “Excuse me a minute, boys,” she said, and headed for her separate glass-paned office.
    Left alone, Judd eyed Damon as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “You’re the doctor new in town,” he said.
    “I’ve been here close to a year now.”
    “Like I said.” Judd lifted his cup again. “New.”
    When Damon had accepted residency at Point St. Claire’s Medical Center, he’d been so over big city politics. New York medical practice was manacled to the almighty triage dollar. His professional ethos of ‘personal care above all else’ was better suited to a small, close-knit community. And Damon did enjoy his work here. He was stoked to have quality time to spend with his patients, young, old and everyone in between.
    His first week was one he’d never forget. A five-year-old boy had presented with a fever. Another doctor diagnosed influenza. The family was ready to return home when, in passing, Damon had noticed the boy’s reluctance to turn his head―a stiff neck. His own examination revealed initial signs of purpure, a discoloration due to bleeding beneath the skin. Tests came back positive for meningitis. After receiving appropriate antibiotics and eleven days in intensive care, the boy was discharged, fully recovered.
    An awesome start, right?
    Only twelve months on, Damon was still considered ‘from away’, an outsider, and he couldn’t shake the feeling he always would be. While he’d made a couple of great friendships—newly returned to the Point, architect Max Devlin sprang to mind—much of the time, at sporting events or community get togethers, Damon felt excluded. He looked different, thought different. He even spoke different.
    Judd poured himself another cup, checked his watch. The silence was deafening.
    “You work for Emma, Judd?” Damon asked.
    “When I’m needed. A man’s gotta keep going or he’ll stop all togeth-ah.”
    “Gotta get busy living or get busy dying, right?” Damon grinned but Judd only swirled his coffee cup. Damon cleared his throat, pushed on. “I need a few things fixed at my house, if you’re interested.”
    “Plumbing’s my speciality.”
    “Plumbing’s the problem.”
    Damon explained the issues―a clogged drain, a leaky pipe or two.
    “I can take a look today,” Judd said. “Maybe the day aftah.”
    “I’m at the clinic until late, but feel free to let yourself in.” Damon passed on his address and one of the spare keys he’d brought along. “It’d be great to have it all fixed by end of the week. I’m heading out for the holidays.”
    “Off to see family?”
    “Parents and six married siblings with husbands, wives and plenty of kids. The number keeps growing.”
    And they all wanted to know when the baby of the family would find the