by JoAnn Durgin
The woman gave them a curious look before moving on. Serenity exchanged amused glances with Jackson as he ushered her into the adjoining room where the tour group gathered around the guide. “You realize you played right into that woman’s hands,” she whispered, leaning close. My, he smelled great. Danny never would wear cologne, even when she hinted she liked it.
“How so?”
“Tell me something. How long have you been oblivious of your effect on women?”
He cleared his throat. “You don’t think she caught my wink, for you?”
“Even if she did, you told her we’re not a couple. It’s called mixed signals. Look, Jackson, I don’t want to cramp your style. If you want to ask out a woman, then please go right ahead—”
Catching the chastising glance from the tour guide, Jackson placed a light hand on her elbow and steered her back out into the hallway. “I think it’s time to get something straight.”
“Okay.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I’m not interested in dating that woman or anyone else.”
“Oh.”
With one finger, he tipped her chin. “Want to know why?”
“I’m not sure.”
With a low chuckle deep in his throat, he released his hold on her. “If anything, I want a solid, lasting relationship, and not just a date here and there. I’ve done enough of it, and I’m over it.”
“Good to know.”
“I thought you’d be happy about that.”
She glanced up at him. “Why would you think that?” Silly girl, asking him a leading question when you know the answer. Her only excuse was she wanted to hear Jackson say the words. From his lips straight to her heart.
He stopped and turned to face her. “All right. Since you apparently want me to spell it out for you… If I have a relationship with anyone, hopefully it will be with the woman standing in front of me now.” Stepping closer, he lowered his voice. “But I know she’s not ready. And, for the record, I can be a patient man when I need to be, believe it or not.”
Not giving her time to respond, Jackson nodded to the back patio and garden area. “Want to go check out the gardens? It might give us some landscaping ideas for the playground.”
Unable to speak, she motioned for him to lead the way.
After they’d walked through the gardens for a full twenty minutes, trading occasional comments, Serenity knew it was time to show Jackson the note. He was right. She couldn’t think about a dating relationship. If nothing else, by sharing it with him, he’d know she trusted him. She sensed it’d be important to him. Reaching into her purse, Serenity pulled out the note.
“I need to show you something. It’s a note I received in Atlanta six weeks before moving back home. It was postmarked from here and mailed two days before I got it.” Unfolding the slip of paper, she handed it to him. “It’s getting sort of faded, but you can still read it.”
Taking it from her, he appeared puzzled. He read it out loud, slowly, as though digesting the message before refolding it and handing it back to her. His brow creased and he sat on a huge rock along the pathway. “Interesting. Any theories on who sent it?”
Her pulse skipped a beat. What if no one had told Jackson about Danny and Liam? She felt the blood rush to her head. What had she done? Calm down. Nothing in the note indicated there was anything other than her mother’s disappearance to solve. For all she knew, someone might have already spilled her secrets. Still, she didn’t think so. Knowing Jackson, he would have asked her about them. Wanted to discuss her feelings about it.
Walking to the end of the walkway, she looked out over the ocean. Perhaps it was fitting that a cool breeze had kicked in and the clouds had darkened in the last few minutes alone. Any minute, there’d be the rumble of thunder.
“At first, I thought Dad sent it even though it’s not his handwriting. Based on something he said, I realized he wasn’t the one. Then I wondered if Mama could actually have sent it. Of course, the big ‘if’ in that statement would be if she’s still alive. For one thing, it’s not Mama’s handwriting. If she did send it, then someone else wrote it.”
“How about Deidre?” he asked.
That made her smile. “Impossible. Besides, she wouldn’t bother with a note. She’d just call and order me to come home.” A smile curved her lips. “As it was, she’d been begging me to come back as soon as I finished my degrees.”
“Degrees plural?” Jackson’s tone conveyed a mixture of surprise and admiration.
“I figured business administration might be a nice complement for decorating.”
“You’re as smart as you are beautiful. Then again, I already knew that.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Anyone else you can think of who might have sent the note?”
Serenity discussed her ideas with Jackson, same as she’d done with Deidre.
“Playing devil’s advocate for a minute,” he said, “have you ever seen Charlie’s handwriting?”
“I don’t think so. If I did, I wouldn’t recognize it now, anyway.”
Jackson pushed away from the rock and pulled out his wallet. “As a matter of fact, I might have a sample. Charlie’s doing the painting and wallpapering.” He smiled. “Even the chair rail. He picked up the wood at the lumber yard early this morning and signed for it.” Tugging out a small receipt, he held it out to her. “Take a look. Compare it to your note.”
Glancing at the paper in her hands, Serenity held the two side-by-side. Jackson leaned over her shoulder, so close his cheek was millimeters away from hers. So close she could breathe in his woodsy scent. “Must you lean so close?”
He moved away. “Sorry. Am I offensive?”
“Not at all, but you’re...distracting.”
“Best news I’ve heard all day.” A loud clap of thunder made her jump, and she burrowed into Jackson’s chest. The wonderfully weird part was how natural it was. “Now this is fun,” he said with a chuckle low in his throat.
She shook her head and pushed away from him. “The letters don’t look the same to me. The ones in the note are big and loopy. Charlie’s letters are small and precise.” She held them both up for Jackson to see. “What do you think?”
“I agree,” he said. “Based on this, Charlie didn’t write your note.” Another ear-splitting boom of thunder startled them both as Jackson pushed the invoice back in the front pocket of his jeans. “We’d better make a run for the car.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
Note in hand, Serenity jogged beside him the few hundred yards to where he’d parked his car. As large drops started to pelt them, she shooed him away. “Don’t worry about me. Get in before you’re soaked and drip water all over this beautiful car.”
“Water doesn’t bother me, but hail’s a killer,” Jackson said. They both jumped into the car and pulled the doors closed mere seconds before the heavens opened and torrents of rain hammered down on them.
When he’d pulled the sleek, pale blue metallic car—some kind of classic British import, and no doubt worth a lot of money—to the curb outside her office earlier that morning, she’d been surprised. In a way, the car suited him perfectly—unique, powerful and distinctive. The citizens of Croisette Shores drove “normal” cars, but they were used to seeing the wealthy zipping in and around town in cars like this one. Still, she was surprised she hadn’t heard about it until now. Could be because Jackson walked almost everywhere, like she did.
Serenity ran a hand over her hair and smoothed it down the front of her top and jeans, more from nerves than anything else. She’d never been so close—in a confined space—with Jackson. “Where’d you get the car?” she asked, trying to calm her breathing.
“It’s an Aston Martin from the early 2000s. I found it through a dealer in Chicago, but he imported it from London. Get this. The dealer actually said, This car draws admiration from any living, breathing man with red blood running through his veins.”
Serenity laughed. Boys will be boys. “As opposed to a man with blue b
lood running through his veins? I really do think you’re a royal incognito or whatever. And you sure won’t be inconspicuous carting around town in this baby.”
“I didn’t buy it to impress anyone. I just think it’s really cool.”
“Well, you don’t need a car to accomplish that.” She gave him a coy smile. “You’ve already got that covered.”
Jackson shifted in the seat and turned toward her, making her more aware of him than ever. “Is that a compliment?”
“Yes, but don’t get too excited. They’re few and far between.”
They talked for another few minutes, waiting for the rain to let up. Serenity talked about this and that and nothing in particular. Not normally a chatty person, she hadn’t chattered so much in years. Sensing Jackson’s amusement, she kept going, passing the time until he could start the car. “I’m sorry,” she said at length. “I don’t know what possessed me to go on and on like that.”
“Notice I’m not complaining,” he said, slanting her a grin. “I’ve learned more about you the last five minutes than I would have otherwise in a year. So, I’m actually praising the Lord for this rain.”
Serenity watched as Jackson doodled on his notepad during their meeting in Town Hall. The group of four men and three women listened, asked questions, and answered questions they posed to them. Serenity thought they made good headway with the plans for the renovation of the playground. She and Jackson sat behind a long, narrow table facing a U-shaped grouping of tables where the others sat. All the talk about permits and licenses made her head spin, but Jackson took charge and impressed her with his research and how he took command of the discussion. She usually saw the fun, relaxed Jackson, but in this environment, he was articulate, forthright and downright admirable.
After nudging her arm with his elbow, Jackson tapped his pencil on the notepad. Are you as bored as I am?
Picking up the pencil, she scribbled, More. Still full from their lunch at The Happy Crab and a nice, quiet walk on the beach where they’d primarily discussed the playground plans, she fought overwhelming sleepiness and brought a quick hand to her mouth in an attempt to disguise her yawn. Embarrassed, she attempted to focus.
When she put down the pencil, Jackson took it and jotted notes, chiming in the active discussion every now and then. He cleared his throat at one point, prompting her to glance at the notepad. Do you think these guys were ever kids? When he drew a caricature of one of the men with oversized ears, a wide mouth and big teeth, she turned her head and stifled the urge to laugh. Picking up the pencil, she scribbled, You’re a very bad man.
“Miss McClaren, what do you think of that idea?”
Warmth flooded her cheeks. Great. Jackson had a knack for getting her in trouble. All she’d heard was something about monkey bars. She’d never liked them. The indoor monkey bars in her school were too big for her small hands. Nerves always made her hands clammy and she’d fall… Focus.
“I think...” she said, searching for a diplomatic and halfway intelligent response when she had no idea of the specific issue. “I think it’s a valid suggestion and one we should take under consideration. Why don’t we discuss it at the next meeting?” She held her breath, hoping they didn’t look at her like she had two heads. Jackson nudged her leg under the table.
Before the meeting ended, she’d played three games of tic-tac-toe with Jackson and won two. Taking the pencil, Jackson scrawled XOXOXO along the bottom of the page.
Smiling through tense lips, Serenity murmured her goodbyes while Jackson shook hands and talked with a couple of the men. How did he do it? Most likely, the man could charm anyone into doing his bidding. “Please tell me I didn’t make a huge fool of myself,” she said under her breath as they filed out of the meeting room.
“You didn’t,” he said, walking beside her as they descended the front steps of Town Hall. The rain ended long ago but a few dark clouds remained. “You were politically correct. Well-played, as your dad would say.”
She smiled. “So, do you know what they were talking about?”
“Nope. Haven’t a clue. May I have the honor of walking you back to your office?”
“No,” she said. “It’s late on a Friday afternoon, and I already told Kelsie to take off for the weekend.” Looking around, she breathed in. “You’d never know it rained buckets earlier.”
“Don’t change the subject, please. Have a hot date tonight?”
“Sure do.” She almost laughed at the expression on his face. “With Mr. Darcy.”
“Fan of Jane Austen?”
“That, too, but it’s the name of my neighbor’s cat. A total misnomer. Trust me, this Mr. Darcy is no gentleman. I take popcorn, Mrs. Marciano makes peanut butter and banana sandwiches and we watch back-to-back episodes of Who’s the Boss.”
“Sounds like fun. I might have to crash the party sometime. I can bring the snacks and some cat treats to get on Mr. Darcy’s good side.”
Serenity laughed. “You do, and you’re golden.” Not that you’re not already. Her cell phone rang. “I’d better get it,” she said, pulling it from her purse, not recognizing the number. “It might be a client. Or Dad.”
“Is this Serenity McClaren?” The voice was female.
“Yes.”
“This is Kendra Lawson. I used to work with your mother at Croisette Shores Hospital.”
“Yes, of course. Hi, Mrs. Lawson. How are you?”
“I’m at the hospital, Serenity. They’ve just admitted your father. He came in by ambulance.”
“My dad?” Oh, no. Serenity moved her hand over her chest. “What happened?”
“We’re not sure, but we think he might have had a heart attack.”
“Is he okay? How bad is it?” Her heart pounded so hard her ears throbbed. Jackson put a supportive hand on her arm.
“They’re running tests now. Just come as soon as you can. Hopefully, we’ll have some answers by then.”
As soon as she thanked Kendra and disconnected the call, Jackson grabbed her hand.
“Let’s go.”
~CHAPTER 16~
When Jackson cut the engine in the Croisette Shores Hospital parking lot ten minutes later, Serenity darted out and sprinted toward the revolving front door. That odd sensation came over her again, as though she moved in slow motion. Or like she was someone else and watching from a distant place. Although her dad could be gruff and infuriate her, he was all she had left.
Hold on, Dad. Don’t leave me now.
She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the lights inside the hospital lobby. With Jackson right beside her, she hurried to the information desk, thankful a volunteer manned the station.
“My dad was brought here by ambulance. Can you tell me where we need to go?”
The volunteer asked her a few cursory questions. When she couldn’t choke out her dad’s name, Jackson answered for her. Faltering a few times, she managed to provide the needed information. The woman checked her computer and told them Clinton was being prepped for surgery and instructed her to go to the family waiting room on the fourth floor.
Thanking the woman, Jackson put a light hand on her elbow and headed for the elevators. After shifting from one foot to the other while they waited, Serenity finally stalked toward the stairwell and ran up all four flights without stopping.
Another woman sat behind a reception desk near the elevator doors. She seemed sympathetic and told her the surgeon would be out to speak with her momentarily. “There’s water and coffee in the waiting room. Help yourself.”
“Serenity McClaren?”
“Yes.” Turning, she spied a middle-aged surgeon in green scrubs walking toward them from an adjacent hallway. His expression was impossible to read, worrying her even more. God, please help me accept whatever he has to say.
“I’m Dr. Saunders.”
She swallowed hard as she shook his hand. “How’s my dad?”
“We’re prepping him for a procedure now. Your dad noticed a weakness and tingling in his arms
. He had a bad headache and felt dizzy. When he called 9-1-1, his words were slightly slurred and he was having trouble with his motor coordination. I’ve conducted an angiogram and discussed Clinton’s case with his physician. Combined with what he experienced today, everything points to a significant carotid artery blockage.”
“So, it wasn’t a heart attack?”
“No,” the doctor said, “but the symptoms very closely mimic a heart attack. The carotid arteries are the two large blood vessels on either side of the neck that supply blood and oxygen to the brain. The blockage is caused by a buildup of plaque on the arterial walls called atherosclerosis, a progressive vascular disease that’s an accumulation of fatty substances inside the walls of the arteries. That condition leads to narrowing of the arterial walls and causes the carotid blockage.”
“What procedure do you need to do?” she asked. When Jackson covered her hand with his, Serenity gripped it tight.
“Traditionally, the surgical procedure is to perform an endarterectomy. That’s where we open up the neck, expose the artery and physically remove the plaque. But there’s a newer procedure that’s been highly successful—and minimally invasive—called a carotid angioplasty. We pass a catheter from the blood vessels in the groin to the carotid artery. Then we’ll inflate a balloon to open the artery and put in a stent to hold the artery open. That’s what I’d like to do for your father unless we see we need to do the endarterectomy once we get him in the OR.” Dr. Saunders focused on her again. “I’ll need your consent for the surgery, Miss McClaren. The nurse has the form at the desk.”
“Of course. I’ll sign it right away.”
Dr. Saunders nodded. “This type of blockage is one of the major contributing factors for a stroke. If the plaque hardens and narrows the arteries completely, the blood supply and oxygen to the brain is restricted. That causes the brain cells to begin dying, leading to a loss of brain function, permanent damage or even death. It’s a good thing your father called for help as soon as he recognized the warning signs.”
