“Maybe we should go upstairs,” he said, taking her hand and starting up the stairs. “What do you think about a long, hot shower?”

She laughed. “I think it sounds lovely, but I’m not sure I have the patience…”

His smile became mysterious as he led her into the bathroom and turned on the water.

“Testing your patience will be a highlight of the evening,” he whispered.

She demurely stepped out of her clothes and into the hot shower. With a crook of a finger, she beckoned him to her. “Perhaps we should make this a contest… of patience.”

They clung to each other, then, as if their physical joining could solve all other problems. They spent the night together, sated and exhausted, under the thick plaid quilt on Megan’s bed.

Monday morning Pat kissed Megan awake. “Meg, I have to go to the hospital.”

She ran a hand through her long tangle of hair and sat up, tucking the quilt firmly around her bare breasts. She felt better. Depressed but stronger.

“Thank you. It was a very beautiful night.”

Pat could only nod. Megan was in control now, he realized. The pretending was over, forever, and he had to leave. “I’ll work it out, Meg.”

She looked at him coolly. “Me too.”

Megan was packing some of her books in a cardboard box when the insurance adjuster arrived with a check for the damages to her car. She looked at the check and blinked. “This check is for one hundred and fifty dollars. The garage said it would cost over a thousand to fix my car.”

“Sorry,” the adjuster said. “The car’s replacement value is only a hundred and fifty dollars.”

He left, and she sat on the bottom step, staring at her suitcase, newly packed and ready to go, waiting in the foyer. It was going to have a long wait, she thought. She wasn’t going anywhere without a car, and she certainly couldn’t buy one with a hundred and fifty dollars.

She continued to sit on the step for a long time, trying to come to terms with her problems, but they skittered through her head like clouds on a windy night. The problems and their solutions were wandering aimlessly in a place where murky emotions reigned.

Finally, her stomach growled, reminding her it was dinner time. She looked in her freezer. Empty. She looked in her refrigerator. Empty. Dave had eaten everything. She couldn’t go food shopping, because she didn’t have a car. She was going to starve to death. Good. She felt like starving to death. It was pathetic. She found a box of stale crackers and decided to eat them at the kitchen table with a glass of water, because that was even more pathetic than starving to death. She was trying to swallow her third cracker when Pat arrived.

He hadn’t bothered to knock. The door had been open, so he’d walked right in and found Megan at the table with the crackers. “Hors d’oeuvres?” he asked.

“Dinner. And when these are done, I’m going to starve to death.”

“Life is tough, huh?”

“I think I’m in a slump.” She sat up straight and sniffed. “What do I smell? Do I smell turkey?”

He set a brown paper bag on the table. “Turkey, dressing, cranberries, the works. I’ve been hacking my way through these leftovers for four days now, and I refuse to continue alone. You have to do your share.”

“I don’t know. I had my heart set on malnutrition.”

“You can get malnutrition tomorrow,” he said, arranging the food on a dinner plate. He slid the plate into the microwave and sat across from Megan.

“I know I’m going to regret asking, but why were you eating crackers and water?”

“It’s all I have. Dave ate everything, and I haven’t got a car. I’m trapped here like a rat on a sinking ship.”

“I talked to my insurance company. I think it’s rotten that they’re only giving you a hundred and fifty dollars. I’m really sorry, Meg.”

She waved it away. “They were right. That piece of junk was only worth a hundred and fifty.”

“This is all my fault,” he said, setting the heated dinner in front of her. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She nibbled at the turkey. “Yum. Maybe I wasn’t depressed. Maybe I was just hungry. I’m feeling lots better. Any more dressing? Did you bring gravy?”

“Shoot, for a minute there I thought I had to marry you to get you cheered up, but hell, all I had to do was feed you.”

“Hmmm. So, you’re thinking about marrying me?”

“Actually, I’m thinking about thinking about marrying you. I’m working my way up to it.”

“Gee whiz, how exciting. Do you have dessert in your bag?”

He produced an entire pumpkin pie. “It’s scary, Meg. All those years in school, and then internship. I never thought past graduation. Now all of a sudden I’m a doctor, and I’m sort of bowled over by it.”

“I understand,” she said, slicing herself a wedge of pie. “I really do. I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon sitting on a step, trying to get a grip on things and not succeeding. I thought I was sure, but now I don’t know. Do you think indecision is catching?”

“Definitely. I had an entire course on it in pre – med. Indecision 101.” He rinsed her empty plate and put it in the dishwasher. “I’d better get going. I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow, and it’s a long walk home.”

“You walked here?”

“Tomorrow I get my car. It wasn’t badly damaged. They hammered out the fender and fixed the radiator.”

“Lucky duck.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Hang in there,” he said, hating himself for saying it. It was a feeble cliché. He’d smashed her car, ruined her weekend, and told her he was thinking about thinking about marrying her. And she’d been nice to him, thanking him for the food and understanding his panic. Hunter, he told himself, you’re a crumb.

Megan burrowed under her pillow. She was having hallucinations. It was the middle of the night, and she could have sworn she’d heard Pat making a racket at her front door. That was ridiculous. Timmy was gone. Pat had no car. There was no explanation for the noise in her front yard.

She dragged herself out of bed and squinted into the predawn blackness. There was a taxi idling in her driveway, and yes, the lunatic doctor was at her front door. Now what? His house had burned down? Extraterrestrials were invading Tarplay’s Store? She felt a smile creep through her body. It was nice to see him at her doorstep, no matter what the reason.

“Something wrong?” she asked, opening the door.

Pat stepped inside and groaned. Her mussed hair fell over her shoulders, forming a glowing frame around a face still soft with sleep. Her shoulders were bare and waiting to be kissed. One thin strap of her peach – colored satin nightie slid down her arm in erotic invitation. The gown was short, barely covering her bottom, leaving him to wonder if her outfit included panties. He’d intended to do a good deed, but it was a mistake. He could see that now. The memory of this nightie was going to keep him in a state of constant arousal. He’d have to wear a smock all day.

“Megan,” he said. His voice sounded an octave higher than usual to his ears, so he cleared his throat and started again. “I can’t stay. I’m on my way to the hospital. I just wanted to drop off some breakfast.” He hefted several grocery bags from the front porch and placed them at her feet. A mischievous look came into his eyes. “About this sultry little number you’re wearing…”

“Mmmm?” she purred.

His voice grew conspiratorially low. “Does it have… I mean, are you wearing…”

She smiled. “That’s privileged information.”

“Remember what you told me about a man’s finding out things for himself?”

“Mmmm.”Another purr.

He took a step toward her, and she retreated. When she spoke her voice was husky and hinting of laughter. “I can’t help feeling cuddly about you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow liberties.”

Pat thought he could go on looking at her forever. He loved seeing her laughing and rumpled from sleep. For two cents he’d tell the taxi to take a hike. Unfortunately, there were babies waiting for him at the hospital. He’d stayed longer than he should. He sighed heavily. “I don’t have time for liberties anyway. Darn.”

Megan deliberately yawned and stretched, lifting her arms above her head and raising the hem of her nightie high enough to elicit a another groan from Pat. “Thanks,” she said. “It was nice of you to think of breakfast.”

Pat staggered into the cold air and firmly closed the door behind him. He leaned against it for a moment to take a deep breath. He was being tortured. He was still paying the price for sending Dave home on a doughnut. Fate was getting even with him.

Megan carted a bag into the kitchen and unpacked it, thinking about how cute Pat had looked standing there in his crisp white shirt and red striped tie under his leather jacket and red scarf. His hair had been falling boyishly across his forehead in unkempt bangs.

He must be a real heart – breaker at the hospital, she thought. All the nurses were probably in love with him. Well, she had some advice for those nurses. Don’t get your hopes up, girls. The man is not the marrying type. The man is strictly the love – ’em – and – leave – ’em type.

She lifted a carton of orange juice from the bag and reconsidered. Not exactly love ’em and leave ’em, she decided. More like love ’em and let ’em dangle. She wanted to be mad at him, but she couldn’t. He couldn’t help the way he felt, and he was being honest with her.

She put a half gallon of milk in the refrigerator and sighed. When she was done unpacking the groceries she was going back to bed. She was suddenly so tired, she could hardly breathe. There was a sadness inside her, so all – encompassing and overwhelming, it left her weak. It was enervating to have been surrounded by so much love and activity and then to have it suddenly stripped away.