GUILTY SECRETS

by Virginia Kantra

  Mike snorted. "Her story is that the boyfriend found out and threatened to turn her in unless she kept him supplied with drugs. He leaned on her to steal Nell's prescription pad—"

  "Under protest," Nell said.

  "Whatever. She took the pad and provided Jackson with a list of patients who were prescribed pain meds. We can't prove she actually forged the prescriptions, but it's a cinch she knew Nell's signature."

  "Trevor was still in pain," Nell said. "And Billie was scared about what would happen to him or his mother if she lost her job."

  "Who made the pickups?" Joe asked.

  "Jackson and his buddies: It was a sweet system," Mike said.

  "So, if it was such a sweet system, how come he broke into the clinic?" asked Will.

  "I told Billie I was resigning and that my DEA authorization was being revoked," Nell admitted.

  "Which meant Jackson was about to lose his source," Mike said. "He figured he'd get in that night, wipe out the pharmacy, and hope the thefts were blamed on Nell. Only she screwed up his plans by sticking around."

  "Why did you stick around?" Will asked.

  "I had to clean out my desk."

  "And Joe was helping," Will said dryly.

  Joe set his jaw. No, he had chosen that low moment in his lover's life to accuse her of not trying hard enough to fight.

  "Actually, Joe left," Nell said. "He came back."

  "Why?" asked Mike.

  Joe stiffened. He was so not going there. Not with his brothers listening in, and his parents due any moment. "What?"

  "I didn't think about it at the time, but why did you go back?"

  Nell turned her head to look at him.

  He felt the weight of expectation in her eyes and started to sweat. This was not the way he wanted to tell her. It was not the way she deserved to hear.

  He couldn't dump the burden of his feelings on her now, when she was tied to his side by pity and professional obligation.

  "It doesn't matter now," he said.

  Will grinned. "That means it's good."

  "Yeah?" Mike looked interested. "How good?"

  Will caught him casually around the neck and dragged him two steps toward the door. "Good enough that he doesn't want an audience, peanut."

  "Hey." Struggling, Mike drove an elbow into his older brother's midsection. "You're assaulting an officer, goon face."

  "So arrest me," Will suggested casually.

  "Is this any way to behave in the hospital?" Mary Reilly stood in the doorway, her tone severe and her eyes worried.

  Her sons untangled themselves. Mike tugged on his uniform jacket.

  "No, ma'am."

  "Hi, Mom."

  Ted stomped over to the television in the corner and flicked on the morning news.

  Joe was on edge. He appreciated the effort his parents had made to be here. He did. But right now they were a distraction to him and an added responsibility for Nell.

  She was talking to his mother now, interpreting whatever it was the doctors had told her. All weekend, while Joe had been a useless lump confined to bed, his family had looked to Nell for answers, for explanations, for reassurance.

  "It's a precaution," she was saying. "If at any time during the surgery the spinal block doesn't work, the doctors need to be able to put Joe under fast."

  Ted turned his head as a commercial came on. "Then why not put him under in the first place? Seems like a waste of time to me."

  Joe watched the question sink in with his brothers and take root in his mother's eyes. A terrible anticipation twisted his gut.

  "There are always risks associated with general anesthesia," Nell said gently, avoiding the real issue. "Allergies, adverse reactions…"

  "He didn't have any adverse reactions before," Ted said. "Why don't his doctors use whatever they used on him then?"

  Nell took a deep breath. Preparing to lie for him?

  And Joe knew he couldn't let her do it. This was one question she couldn't answer for him. One burden she shouldn't have to carry. One sin she shouldn't need to cover up.

  She had been forced to lie and to suffer to protect her ex-husband.

  He'd be damned before he'd let her do the same for him. He had to speak up. For her sake. For his.

  "They aren't using the same drugs because I asked them not to," he said.

  Nell turned to him, protective, troubled. "Joe, I don't think this is the time—"

  "It's past time," he said grimly. "The question came up. They deserve the truth. And so do you."

  Mary's face creased in bewilderment. "What truth? What are you talking about?"

  Nell crossed the room to stand beside Joe's bed.

  He took her small, strong hand and held on tight. Maybe that made him weak, dependent, but he wasn't sure he could make it through what he needed to say without her support.

  "I asked the doctors to find an alternative to general anesthesia because I'm a morphine addict," he said, forcing the words from his tight throat. "I got addicted to painkillers in Iraq, and I made the situation worse by drinking. I can't take any narcotics. Ever. I can't drink, either, ever again."

  He waited for their disbelief, their disappointment and disapproval.

  The hospital room was silent and still except for the buzz and flicker of the florescent lights.

  "Well, that explains the leftover beer every time we get together," Mike said after a moment.

  Will cuffed their younger brother lightly on the back of the head. "It explains a lot more than that, dumbass."

  "Language," Mary said, but automatically, as if her mind was someplace else. There were tears in her eyes. "Joey," she said, using her name for him when he was a little boy. "Are you sure?"

  "Of course he's sure," Ted snapped, lumbering from his chair. "You think he's going to make something like that up?"

  Nell opened her mouth. He squeezed her hand in warning. He didn't need her to stand between him and his father's anger.

  Ted stopped at the foot of his son's bed. His broad shoulders were bunched, his big head slightly lowered.

  "We've always been proud of you," he said gruffly. "That hasn't changed. You're doing the right thing."

  Joe sat, stunned. The right thing. It was the highest praise Ted Reilly could give.

  "Come on, Mary," Ted said to his wife. "Let's get a cup of coffee."

  "But, Joe…" Mary protested.

  "We'll see Joe after the surgery," Ted said. "I need a cup of coffee now."

  Mary stood obediently, her face still crumpled with distress.

  "Ma." Joe stopped her with a touch on her arm. "I'm sorry. I love you."

  Her eyes overflowed with tears. But she bent and kissed him on the forehead, the way she used to when she tucked him into bed at night. "I love you, too." Her voice wavered. "We'll… We'll see you soon."

  She followed her husband from the room.

  Will coughed.

  Mike hunched his shoulders. "You can let go of your girlfriend's hand now. Before you, like, break her fingers."

  Joe realized he was indeed gripping Nell's hand too tight. Not hard enough to crash bone, but enough to cut off her circulation.

  "Sorry," he said, releasing her abruptly.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for," Nell said.

  That sounded good. But he knew better.

  Will cleared his throat.

  "Well…"

  Mike shifted awkwardly. "We better go before they throw us out."

  It wasn't his brothers' way to say what they felt. Joe was the one who worked and played with words. And even he tended to lose them in moments of high emotion.

  "Right," he said. "See you."

  They clasped hands. Patted shoulders.

  "Later, man."

  It was a promise. We'll be here. Joe nodded. "Later." It was a guarantee. I'll be fine. He wished he believed it.

  Mike gave him a half salute, and they were gone.

  "I like your family," Nell said, moving away from his bed.


  He stared at her back, frustrated. "They like you."

  The hell with timing. She was here. They were alone. He loved her, damn it, and if he couldn't tell her now he was as big a coward as she'd accused him of being.

  He braced himself. "Nell…"

  "Now that we're alone, we should talk about what you can expect in the OR," she said.

  He scowled. "The teaching nurse already went over all that."

  "Did she explain that in addition to the spinal block, the doctor will inject the surgical site with a long-lasting local anesthetic?"

  "Yeah." He tried again. "Nell…"

  "Are you worried about pain? Because there will be Toradol in your IV, and you can receive injections every six to eight hours, as well."

  And that's when Joe got it. Family compliments aside, Nell was fighting to keep this conversation from getting too personal.

  Misgiving ripped him. Maybe she wanted to keep his focus this morning on him. That would fit her nurturing nature.

  Maybe his upcoming procedure had finally made her stop seeing him as a man and start thinking of him as a patient. He hated that, but he could understand it.

  A hole opened in his chest. Or maybe dealing with his family, his surgery and his recovery had forced Nell to face the truth.

  Maybe she didn't want him enough. Maybe she didn't care about him enough. God knew she didn't need him. She'd already wasted too many years on her jerk of an ex-husband. Maybe she'd wised up enough to know she didn't want to tie herself to an alcoholic cripple for the rest of her life.

  But would she tell him so before he went under the knife? Joe's gut clenched. Hell, no. Not Nell, with her big heart and high ideals and her own personal collection of lame ducks.

  She touched the side of his face, her fingers smooth against his stubble. Her veins were blue inside her wrist. Her scent was warm and reassuring against the frightening antisceptic smells of the hospital.

  "Do you need anything?" she asked. A nurse's question, but her eyes were soft and seeking.

  You, he thought. I need you.

  But he couldn't say it. He wouldn't force her to choose between telling the truth and sparing his feelings.

  Even if she cared for him, what if the upcoming operation was a failure? Joe didn't doubt for a minute that Nell would stick by him through sickness, health and disfiguring disability. But he couldn't ask her to do it. Not until he knew if he would ever walk again. Not until she knew what she was getting into. She deserved that much, at least.

  And so he gave her the answer he thought she wanted to hear, the answer that wouldn't place another demand on her, another burden of guilt.

  "I'm fine," he lied. "Don't worry about me."

  Don't worry?

  Nell glanced again at the blank-faced clock on the wall, her hands clenched in her lap and her heart lodged in her throat.

  She knew Joe had the best orthopedic surgeon in Chicago realigning his ankle. She'd met twice with the anesthesiologist to ensure his wishes were followed to the letter. She'd taken every professional precaution for a successful surgical outcome.

  But none of that mattered now that she was relegated to the waiting room with the rest of Joe's family. Nell hadn't felt so scared, so bereft, since her mother had died.

  Moistening her lips, she tried to compose a prayer, a dizzy, dry-mouthed bargain with God.

  Let him be all right, she prayed, and I won't ask for anything else. Just help him get through this, and I'll settle for anything he has to give me.

  Mary Reilly reached over and patted her clasped hands. "He's fine," she said. "Don't you worry."

  At the echo of Joe's words, Nell pulled herself together. It was her job to provide reassurance and support. She couldn't possibly let herself be comforted by Joe's mother.

  "I'm not worried." She forced a smile. "I'm just so sorry he has to go through this again. That you all have to go through this."

  "He needed the surgery anyway," said Will. "Now he's getting it."

  Mike rocked back on his heels, his hands in his pockets. "Thanks to you."

  Nell winced. "You mean, because he was reinjured coming to my rescue."

  "No, because you got the drug thing out in the open and dealt with it," Mike corrected her.

  Nell looked anxiously around the circle of faces. "And are you all … okay with that?"

  His family was important to Joe. He would need their support in the coming weeks. But could they come to terms with his addiction? Mike snorted.

  "Do we have a choice?" asked Will.

  "Of course we're okay with it," Ted said. "He's our boy."

  "He's a good boy." Mary smiled at her husband, her dark eyes shining with tears. "All three are good boys. And Joe…"

  "Is going to be okay." A muscle ticked in Mike's jaw. "He's…"

  "A tough SOB," Will said.

  Mary narrowed her eyes. "Language."

  "Let them be," Ted said. "I've heard you say worse."

  "Not me," Mary said.

  A smile tugged the corner of Mike's mouth. "Dad must be thinking of Will. He always did have a way with words. Smooth bastard."

  Will laughed. "Not me. That's Joe."

  Listening to their banter, Nell's chest felt so tight she couldn't breathe. And that's when she knew.

  She wasn't content to settle anymore. She wanted more. She wanted this. She wanted everything, this unjudging acceptance, this unconditional love.

  But of course she couldn't say so.

  Joe and his family needed her help. She couldn't make demands now, couldn't burden them with her feelings. Okay, she finally understood she couldn't—shouldn't—have to earn their love, that it had to be given freely. But what if Joe didn't want her, didn't want her love?

  She didn't want him to think that her support came with conditions, either.

  Nell shifted her grocery bags to one arm, digging in the pocket of her cloak for the keys to Joe's house. She had bread, salad, an uncooked chicken and a pre-baked apple pie. Everything they needed to celebrate the removal of Joe's plaster bandage and stitches earlier today.

  He'd called her at the clinic after his appointment with the physical therapist. He wouldn't walk without cratches for another six weeks, but he'd sounded excited about his progress so far. The surgery had restored the structure of his ankle. Joe was healing.

  Which meant that soon, very soon, he wouldn't need her anymore.

  Her heart beat up in her throat. She swallowed hard.

  This was a good thing, Nell told herself firmly. Tonight could be so much more than a celebration of Joe's medical recovery. It could be the beginning of their new life.

  Assuming she had the guts actually to go through with her plan.

  She fumbled with the keys. After Joe's discharge from the hospital, she'd moved into his house. For the past two weeks, they'd shared an uneasy domesticity as awkward as it was bittersweet. His family looked in on him during the day. But his nights were hers. Last night, despite his pain and his plaster cast, they'd even managed to make exquisitely careful love, their murmured instructions interspersed by soft gasps and gentle exclamations.

  But they didn't talk. They hadn't talked. Nell was afraid to talk.

  She was grateful, though, for every moment, every memory she could hoard away. And maybe the moments would be enough. Enough to sustain her if he turned her away.

  One day at a time, she reminded herself, and opened the door.

  She heard voices. Male voices, boisterous and confident. Joe must have company.

  Nell hiked her groceries on her hip and followed the sound to the living room.

  "…be really sorry to lose you," the unfamiliar voice was saying. "But it's a great opportunity. Myerson is pumped to have you back."

  Nell paused on the threshold. Back? Back where?

  "I'm feeling pretty pumped myself," Joe said. He was sitting on the black leather couch, his leg up and his expression animated, talking to a man she'd never met. He looked up and saw her and
the welcome on his face eased the tightness in her chest. "Hi, honey. Come meet Paul Goodwin, our Metro editor. Paul, this is Nell."

  She couldn't help noticing she didn't have a title or a label. Not Nell-my-girlfriend or Nell-the-nurse or Nell-the-love-of-my-life.

  "Mr. Goodwin." She shifted her groceries so she could offer her hand. "It's a pleasure."

  So she lied.

  Apparently Goodwin didn't notice, because he shook hands and said, "Paul, please. I didn't mean to intrude."

  "Paul came by to tell me he tracked down your elusive donor." Joe was smiling, but his eyes were watchful.

  Nell blinked, momentarily distracted. "My…?"

  "The guy who stuffed ten grand in an envelope and dropped it off at the paper."

  "Oh! Oh, of course. Who…?"

  "Patient of yours. Stanley Vacek?"

  "Mr. Vacek?" She was dumbfounded. Her grumpy old gnome? "But he doesn't have any money."

  Paul Goodwin chuckled. "Don't you believe it. Guy made a fortune on the Russian black market before the fall of communism. Apparently he didn't come forward before this because he didn't want the IRS or INS to know."

  Concern pinched Nell. "Is he in trouble?"

  "Nope. Nobody's trying to extradite him, and the statute of limitations has expired. He'll have to start paying taxes, though."

  Nell's mouth curved. "Well, that's…"

  Unbelievable, she thought.

  "Wonderful," she said. "Thank you for coming by."

  "My pleasure." The editor sounded like he meant it. "It's not every day I get involved with a story that has a happy ending. And of course I wanted to congratulate Joe here on getting his old job back."

  Nell's breath stopped. Her heart froze and then shattered like an icicle on the sidewalk.

  "His old job?" she repeated faintly.

  "Yeah. He's done some great work for us—loved the health insurance series—but I guess our loss is World's gain." He looked at the flowers sticking out of the top of Nell's grocery bag and smiled. "Well, it looks like you two have your own celebration planned. Joe, I'll be seeing you."

  "Paul. Thanks for stopping by."

  Somehow Nell managed to walk the editor to the door without screaming or crying or dropping her groceries on the floor.