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“Yeah, he probably wanted to be paid for it.”
“I promised your sister I wouldn’t insult you within her hearing, but don’t push me.” He reached for Maggie’s fingertips. “When a man donates blood to a woman, she may develop an antibody to an antigen in his red blood cells. When they have children, if a fetus has his father’s antigen, an antibody from the mother can destroy the baby’s red blood cells and cause serious problems. It’s not a risk I’d take.”
Santos looked to Dr. Moreno. “Now he’s fallen back on medical jargon. Is he making any sense?”
“Yes, he’s correct, but I’m surprised you’d know it, Mr. Mondragon.”
He shrugged. “I’ve read a lot of medical books.”
“Maybe, but you’re dreaming if you think Magdalena would ever have children with you,” Santos interjected.
Rafael held his breath, waiting for her to say it was a real possibility, but she’d fallen asleep. “We should let her rest,” he whispered.
“Anyone want something to eat?” Fox asked.
Santos laid his arm around Fox’s shoulders to lead him from the room, but at the door, he paused to speak to Rafael. “You owe me a lot of money.”
“You’ll get it,” Rafael promised.
Dr. Moreno stayed behind. “Magdalena will need to make a statement for the police, but I’ll urge her to fly home to recover. She doesn’t need to remain in Spain where she’s been surrounded by so much sorrow.”
Rafael didn’t argue, but when the physician left, he moved his chair close to her bed where he could rest his head on his arms and sleep too.
Afternoon shadows spread across the room the next time Maggie woke. Rafael stood at the window. He’d shaved and changed his clothes, but he looked miserably unhappy. He’d wanted to go out last night, and they’d had no chance to celebrate the week before. Now she was too weak to sit up on her own, let alone dance and make love. She’d fly home to recover rather than saddle him with her care. She hadn’t known how she’d find the strength to leave him, but sadly, circumstance had made the choice easy.
A nurse came in with a food tray and placed it on the rolling table at the end of the bed. Rafael noticed she was awake and smiled, but Maggie had seen how sad he’d looked in an unguarded moment. “I’m feeling better. Why don’t you go on home?”
“I’m not going anywhere without you,” he replied. “Do you think you can eat? They had to pump your stomach last night, but you ought to be able to have soup.”
The nursed raised the head of the bed and rolled the table up to her. “Just ring for me when you’re finished, and I’ll bring ice cream if you like.”
&nbs
p; There was a package of crackers, but Maggie couldn’t hold it tightly enough to open. Rafael ripped the cellophane easily. She nibbled on one of the crackers but couldn’t hold a spoon firmly, and the clear soup dribbled down her chin. “How long will it take my wrists take to heal?”
He picked up the spoon and fed her a swallow. “Not long. There was a hand surgeon on duty last night. He has an excellent reputation, and while the hospital wouldn’t let me watch, he assured me you’d soon be fine. Your scars will grow faint in time.”
“I’ll bet we’ll be back in the tabloids.” While it was a clumsy effort, she picked up another cracker and took a bite.
“Probably, but I didn’t look.”
“Santos told me you did really well on Sunday.”
Rafael kept feeding her spoonfuls of beef bouillon. “I did. My mother was there with her sons. I doubt she told them we were brothers, but whatever her story, I don’t want anything to do with her or them.”
“I thought the same way about my father, but I wouldn’t have met you if I’d stayed in Arizona. You should do as you please, though.”
“I intend to. Do you want some ice cream?”
“If they have chocolate. I should call my mother, but I don’t want to terrify her when she’s so far away.”
“A murder attempt isn’t something you can include in your Christmas card,” he advised.
She laughed before she realized he was serious. “No, it isn’t. I could make a stop in Minneapolis on my way home.”
“I’ll get your ice cream.” He picked up the tray and carried it out of her room.
He was attentive yet distant, leaving her to fear something was dreadfully wrong. Maybe he wasn’t telling her the truth about her recovery. She wiggled her fingers but couldn’t coil her hands into tight fists. When he returned with a huge bowl of soft chocolate ice cream and two spoons, she thanked him and saved her questions for the surgeon.
