Hidden Riches

rest. I’m going to go fix you something to eat.”
    “He shouldn’t feel guilty,” Dora murmured when Mary Pat started out of the room.
    Mary Pat stopped, looked back. “He feels a lot more than guilt where you’re concerned. Did you know he didn’t leave the hospital for the first forty-eight hours?”
    “No.” Dora looked down at her hands. “I didn’t.”
    “Or that he checked on you every night.”
    Dora only shook her head.
    “A lot of women wait their whole lives for someone to feel that guilty.”
    Alone, Dora reached for the music box. She opened the lid, closed her eyes and wondered what to do.
     
    At the end of her shift, Mary Pat passed her patient’s progress on to her replacement. But she didn’t consider herself off duty yet. Marching across the hall, she rapped sharply on Jed’s door. When Jed opened it, she jabbed a finger into his chest.
    “Couldn’t you find the energy to walk across the Goddamn hall and—” She broke off, scowling. “What are you doing?”
    “I’m packing.”
    Darts of righteous fury shot out of her eyes. “The hell you are.” Incensed, she stomped over and upended a box of books onto the floor. “You’re not walking out on her when she’s flat on her back and defenseless.”
    “I’m not walking out.” He struggled for calm. He’d convinced himself, very logically, that what he was doing, he was doing for Dora. “She asked me to leave. It’s only going to upset her if she finds out I haven’t moved yet.”
    Mary Pat fisted her hands on her hips. “You’re an idiot. I can almost accept that. But I never thought you were a coward.”
    “Back off, MP.”
    “Not a chance. Can you stand there and tell me you’re not in love with her?”
    He reached for a cigarette. Mary Pat snatched it out of his hand and broke it in two. He glared. She glared right back.
    “No, I can’t. But that’s not the point. The doctor was real clear about keeping her free from stress. She doesn’t need me hanging around upsetting her.”
    “Sit down. Sit down, damn it.” She gave him a quick shove. “I’m going to tell you exactly what she needs.”
    “Fine.” He slumped into a chair. “I’m sitting.”
    “Have you ever told her you loved her?”
    “I don’t see that that’s any of your business.”
    “I didn’t think so.” Impatient, she took a quick turn around the room, barely preventing herself from kicking his weight bench. “Have you ever picked her wildflowers?”
    “It’s fucking February.”
    “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She turned on him, slapped both hands on the arm of his chair to cage him in. “I’ll lay odds you never lit candles for her, or took her for a walk by the river, or brought her some silly present.”
    “I gave her a damn music box.”
    “Not enough. She needs to be wooed.”
    Incredibly, he felt a flush creeping up on his neck. “Give me a break.”
    “I’d like to break your butt, but I’m sworn to heal. You almost lost her.”
    His eyes whipped up, sharp as a sword. “Don’t you think I know that? I wake up in a sweat every night remembering how close it was.”
    “Then do something positive. Show her what she means to you.”
    “I don’t want to push myself on her when she’s vulnerable.”
    Mary Pat rolled her eyes. “Then you are stupid.” Feeling sorry for him, she kissed him. “Find some wildflowers, Jed. My money’s on you.”
     
    The box arrived the following afternoon.
    “More presents,” Lea announced, struggling to shove the huge box across the living room to where Dora sat on the couch. “I’m thinking of getting shot myself—as long as it’s a flesh wound.”
    “Believe me, it’s not worth it. Get the scissors, will you? Let’s get the baby open.” She leaned down to study. “No return address.”
    “Ah, a secret admirer.” Tongue caught in her teeth, Lea attacked the packing tape. “Oh,” she said, deflating when she opened the lid. “It’s just books.”
    “God. Oh my God. Carolyn Keene.” She was down on her knees, rummaging. “Nancy Drew—it looks like the complete set. And first editions. Look, look. It’s The Clue of the Leaning Chimney, The Hidden Staircase. ” All at once she clutched the books to her breasts and began to weep.
    “Honey, oh, honey, did you hurt yourself? Let me help you to bed.”
    “No.” She pressed Password to Larkspur Lane against her cheek. “They’re from Jed.”
    “I see,” Lea said carefully, and sat back on