by JoAnn Durgin
The surgeon’s words were factual and to-the-point, but Serenity admired the compassion in his eyes and expression. She trusted her dad would be in capable hands for the surgery. If he thought her dad was in imminent danger, he wouldn’t be explaining it all now.
“Thanks, Dr. Saunders,” she said. “I appreciate all you’re doing for him.” Her mind was spinning as she returned to the desk to sign the consent form.
“Do you have any idea how long the surgery might last?” Serenity asked the nurse.
“Depends on what they find, if there’s any complications and how much repair work they have to do. I’m sure he’ll be fine, dear,” the nurse told her with a sympathetic smile.
“Repair work?” Serenity grumbled. “That makes Dad sound like an old, broken down car.”
“Try to relax,” Jackson said, his voice soothing. “I’ll go get you some water. Unless you’d rather have coffee?”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard about rancid hospital coffee. Water’s fine. Thanks.”
Nearly an hour and several cups of water later, Serenity bit her lip to control its trembling. Although it sounded like it was a fairly routine procedure, she couldn’t stop worrying. Jackson remained seated beside her, a solid, quiet presence. From the way he bowed his head often and clasped his hands together, she understood he’d been praying off and on. That alone touched something deep inside her. She hadn’t been able to pray. With her stomach twisted in knots, she felt like she might be sick. After visiting the ladies room and gulping down more water from the fountain, she returned to her seat.
“Thanks for being here,” she whispered.
“I’m honored.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she lowered her gaze. Is this man for real? She wasn’t worthy of this man, didn’t deserve him. Jackson was so strong in his faith. God’s grace was one thing, but what had she ever done so right to deserve his friendship?
After another twenty minutes, Dr. Saunders returned to the waiting room. Not waiting for him to call her name, Serenity jumped to her feet and rushed over to him.
Removing his surgical cap, the doctor rubbed one hand over his brow. “He’s fine. We performed the angioplasty and put in the stent. He’ll need to stay overnight in the cardio rehab unit for observation, and I might be able to send him home as early as tomorrow. I’ll make that determination when I check on him in the morning. We’ll give you literature and instructions for an extended treatment plan,” he said. “The recovery time can take as little as a few days or weeks, depending on how your father reacts to the procedure and how well he follows the directions.” The slight irony in his tone suggested the surgeon might be acquainted with her father.
“Clinton needs to quit smoking and eat foods low in saturated and trans fats. His weight isn’t an issue, but he needs his blood pressure checked regularly and daily exercise.” The doctor’s expression was kind. “If he adheres to a healthier routine, the prognosis is good for a longer and more productive life than he would have had without the procedure. I’d take this as a warning, Miss McClaren. If there’s a next time, your father might not be as lucky.”
Tears flooded her eyes and relief filled her soul. “Thank you again, Dr. Saunders. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. I’ll make sure my dad follows your orders.”
“Good.” The doctor nodded. “I’ll be around to check on him later tonight and again in the morning. If you have any questions at any time, feel free to call my office.”
“When can I see him?”
“He’s resting in the post-op recovery room and needs to lie still for a period of time. Then we’ll check his vitals before moving him to a room. Give him about an hour.”
Jackson reiterated his thanks before turning to her. “Want to get something to eat while we wait?”
She shook her head. “I can’t possibly eat, but I’ll go with you. It’ll be good to stretch our legs and get a change of scenery.” After speaking with the woman behind the desk and being told to go to the sixth floor—the cardiac wing—upon their return, they headed into the elevator and then down to the cafeteria on the ground floor.
A few minutes later, Serenity watched with faint amusement as Jackson attacked his turkey sandwich. Even when life was in turmoil, men could always eat. Then again, it wasn’t his dad who could have died. Her lemonade was tart, and when she winked, Jackson returned it. “You goof,” she said. “The lemonade’s really sour.”
“My mistake. I thought you were trying to relieve the tension.” He swallowed a huge bite of his sandwich and wiped his mouth before offering his bag of chips to her.
“No, thanks. I have half a mind to snatch that bag out of your hands. My dad eats too many of those and look where it got him.”
“Point taken, but come on. Sometimes you have to bend the rules a little. I don’t scarf them down all the time. Who knows? I might find one that looks like Jesus.”
She almost spit out her lemonade. Unfortunate timing. “What?”
Jackson examined a chip before popping it in his mouth. “Haven’t you heard how people are always finding food oddities that resemble deity?”
“If nothing else, I appreciate your blatant attempt to make me smile.” Lowering her empty glass, Serenity ran her finger slowly around the rim, lost in thought. “Why does Dr. Saunders seem so familiar?”
“Maybe he played the tuba in the Salvation Army band with Art what’s-his-name and your dad. Or he’s a big supporter of the fire department. Does it matter?”
She glanced at Jackson across the table as he chomped on another chip. “No, I guess not. And it’s trombone, not tuba. My mind tends to wander to trivial things when I’m under stress. Surely you’ve seen it in your profession. Must be some kind of coping mechanism.”
A woman eating alone at a nearby table caught her attention. She wore dark-rimmed glasses and her hair was completely hidden beneath a black scarf. Her shoulders were narrow and she wore plain clothing—jeans and a nondescript, plain, dark T-shirt. Deep red fingernails. Like with Dr. Saunders, something about this woman seemed familiar. Was it possible this was the same woman she’d seen on the street when Jackson left her office? For one thing, why would she keep her features hidden or disguised in a hospital cafeteria, of all places? Was she finally going crazy and exhaustion combined with worry was making her loopy?
“I guess I should have known something like this would eventually happen,” she said.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Pushing his plate aside, Jackson grabbed her hand and held on tight. “Don’t you even think about blaming yourself for your father’s condition.”
Serenity blew out a breath and focused on a group of people at a nearby table. They barely touched their food. She wondered which of their relatives or friends was in the hospital. Although her mother always wanted to be a nurse, it was the one thing she’d never wanted to be. She hated hospitals. They reeked of antiseptic and death.
“I should have come home sooner, Jackson. Should have gone through every cabinet, every drawer. I should have checked everything in the pantry and his bathroom medicine cabinet. Thrown out every single thing that’s unhealthy or contributed to him being here now.” She pushed her curled fist against her lips, steeling herself not to shed any tears when all she wanted was to break down and sob. “I knew he wasn’t well. Knew he’d probably end up here and yet what’d I do? I ran away. Dad could have died here all alone while I was ignoring him in Atlanta. I’m a horrible daughter.” Full of self-loathing, she couldn’t even look at him.
Jackson squeezed her hand. “Listen to me, Serenity.” He waited until she raised her eyes to his. “You weren’t ignoring him and you’re a terrific daughter, but you can’t take on the weight of the world. I know you’ve been doing everything you can to get your dad to eat better. You’re getting him out for fresh air and exercise. His sedentary lifestyle and bad habits landed him here, and it’s in no way your fault. If anything, you saved his life.”
She tilted her head to o
ne side, taking comfort from his words. “How do you figure that?”
“By coming home. That was the best gift you could have given him.” His gentle smile filled her heart. “Let’s go see how he’s doing.”
Three hours later, crawling into bed, Serenity eyed her Bible. If neglect formed cobwebs, that holy book would be full of them. But she couldn’t focus on God’s Word until she cleared the cobwebs from her mind. The ones crowding her in, threatening to suffocate her. Questions, so many questions. Tonight she could barely keep her eyes open. Tomorrow she’d blow off the dust and crack open that Bible. And then she’d pray. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but one of the best things about the Lord was that He’d meet her wherever she was in life. After turning off the bedside lamp, she closed her eyes and crossed her arms behind her head.
She’d wanted to stay overnight at the hospital, but the doctors assured her Clinton was stabilized, medicated and would sleep through the night. Jackson convinced her she’d be more help and comfort to Clinton if she got some decent rest and returned in the morning. When she called Jackson to thank him for being so wonderful and staying with her at the hospital, she heard suspicious noises in the background.
“Jackson, where are you? Don’t make me feel like the guilty daughter all over again. You’re still at the hospital, aren’t you?” She tried to keep her tone from sounding accusatory. The man was a saint. Someone would likely find his likeness in a potato chip someday. Irreverent as it was, she smiled at the thought.
“No reason to feel guilty, so get over it. I knew you really didn’t want to leave, but I could tell you’re exhausted. I’ll take the overnight shift and stay until you come back in the morning. I can help you get your dad settled at the house, if you want.”
I want. How did he manage it? With his ready smile and kind gestures, Jackson was working his way into her life to the point where she couldn’t imagine not having him around. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a prince among men?”
“Not anyone who counted. Coming from Princess Serenity, that’s high praise.”
“And you’re such a big flirt.” She stifled her yawn.
“Only with you.”
“Take care of my dad, will you, please?”
“I’ll be here. With prayers. The doctors will do the rest. Get some sleep and bring me some stiff coffee in the morning, if you please. One creamer.”
“Will do. Goodnight.”
“Night night.”
“Thanks, Jackson,” she added. “For everything.”
~CHAPTER 17~
Driving to the hospital the next morning, Serenity started a mental checklist of things that needed to change. Should she move back in the house with her dad so she could keep a better eye on him? Alternatively, she could move him into her small rental at least until she was assured he was recovered. Bad idea. They’d probably be at each other’s throats in less than a day. Still, she hated to think he could have an emergency and she wouldn’t be there to help. Not that she could possibly be with him every waking hour. He’d accuse her of smothering him and treating him like an invalid again. He didn’t know the half of it. The thing was, she’d already lost two men in her life and she wasn’t about to lose her father on her watch.
The most likely scenario? She’d air out the house and do exactly what she’d told Jackson. Go through the entire place, scrub and disinfect every surface. Get rid of every pack of cigarettes and toss out all the unhealthy food in the refrigerator and freezer. Restock it with nutritious, natural foods. To her knowledge, her dad didn’t drink alcohol except an occasional beer, but nothing was beyond the scope of possibility. When she couldn’t be with him—at least for the next couple of weeks—she’d hire a part-time nurse to make sure he ate regular meals and walked around the block if nothing else. She couldn’t afford to take much time away from work, but maybe she could work more from home and Kelsie could forward her calls.
The ring tone on her cell phone sounded as Serenity approached the information desk in the hospital lobby. Setting the coffee cups on the counter and a bag with her dad’s clothes on the floor, she retrieved her phone.
“Good morning, Princess Serenity.”
She smiled. “Good morning to you, too.” Catching the knowing grin from the woman behind the desk, she turned aside and lowered her voice. “How’s Dad? Is he awake?”
“He’s groggy, but he managed to say a few words. By the way, who’s Prudence?”
Good thing she wasn’t sipping coffee. As it was, she sputtered and almost choked. Jackson was dangerous to have around when she had a beverage nearby. “My alter ego. Never mind. That’s actually very encouraging. He’s his old ornery self, so he must already be on the road to recovery.”
“I think so. Dr. Saunders is checking him over now. Hang on a sec.” She waited, feeling silly that Jackson was a few floors above her and she was down in the lobby, getting the play-by-play on her cell phone. “Dr. Saunders signed the release papers, so your dad’s free to go as soon as he’s dressed. Come on up. I’ll meet you at the elevator.”
Five minutes later, she glimpsed Jackson as soon as the elevator doors parted. “Are you my personal welcoming committee?”
“I hope that’s not a complaint,” he said.
“Never. Here’s your coffee. One creamer, as requested.”
He accepted the cup with a tired smile. Lifting the lid, he inhaled the brew and took a quick sip. “Thanks. Ah, honey, that’s great coffee. Perfect.” Even with his hair tousled, shirt rumpled and faint circles beneath his eyes, Jackson was easily the most appealing man on the planet. Her heart increased its pace and Serenity cleared her throat, hoping none of the nurses on duty were single and gorgeous. This man was a keeper, and any female with eyes and a functioning brain could see it.
“You’d better lead the way. I hope it’s okay to take coffee in his room,” she said, almost as an afterthought as Jackson fell into place beside her.
“He’s down this way.” Jackson angled his head further down the ward. “I think it’s fine to take coffee in his room. I’ll warn you, though. He doesn’t look much better than he did last night.”
“But he’s here.”
“Yes, he is.” Jackson guided her toward a room near the back corner. “Let’s go get your dad ready to check out.” He raked his fingers through his hair, messing it up a little more. Could the man be any more adorable? When he was tired and a little off-his-game, he seemed rather vulnerable and that appealed to her on many levels. None of which she cared to contemplate now. “Okay, you know what I meant, right?” he said. “I’m tired and need some serious sleep. It’s my only excuse.”
“You’re very cute when you’re sleepy and unkempt,” she said, smoothing the hair on the top of his head. “There, that’s better. Do you have any patients today?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “No patients on Saturday. Cardinal rule. Well, unless there’s an emergency.”
“Right,” she said, running a hand over her hair. “Good rule. I forgot it’s Saturday.”
He gave her another tired smile and she took a deep breath. “Okay. Time to face the ornery one. I’m sure he’s even worse since he’s been cooped up in a hospital bed.”
“You might be surprised.”
When they entered the room, a nurse was helping him sit up on the bed. “I’ll take it from here,” Clinton said. His eyes rested on her and he made an effort to smile. “Here’s my beautiful Serenity.”
“How are you, Dad?” Putting her cup on a table, she walked to the side of the bed and put her hand over his. It felt dry to her touch and he looked so small, swallowed by the hospital bed and the starkness of the white sheets. Jackson was right. He looked terrible. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his face held an unnatural pallor. Dr. Saunders wouldn’t release him if he didn’t believe he was ready to leave the hospital.
She hated seeing him like this but coached herself to stay strong for his sake as well as her own.
“How’s it
look like I’m doing?”
She darted a glance to where Jackson stood by the window. Catching her look, he motioned to the door. She hoped her pointed glance answered his silent question. In truth, she needed him here with her even though she knew how tired he was. “Well, you’re in good humor this morning,” she said to her father. “I’m here to take you home, so be nice, please.” She glanced at the other bed in the room, grateful it was unoccupied.
“I have your mother to thank for being here, you know.” Clinton’s tone held no animosity and not a trace of irony.
She stared at him, trying not to gape. “What are you talking about?”
“Elise taught me the signs to watch for when you’re having an attack, heart or otherwise—the numbness, the sharp pains, the tightness in the chest. Soon as I started feeling weird, I picked up the phone and called.”
“I’m glad you did, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
He waved his hand and winced when he shifted on the bed.
“Are you okay? What can I do? Call the nurse?”
“Just felt a pinch. I think I’ll live. Can you grab my clothes over there in the closet?”
“You’d better. Live that is,” she said. “I stopped by the house and brought you some fresh clothes.” Opening the bag, she pulled out a pair of his shorts and a nice shirt.
“Thanks. The good doctor’s taking very good care of me, you know.”
“I’m glad to hear it. That’s why they’re here, after all.”
Clinton snorted and angled his head toward Jackson. “That doctor over there. He’s got a real nice bedside manner.”
Serenity felt her cheeks flush. Her dad’s wry sense of humor never failed to give her an anchor for her unsteady emotions, as embarrassing as it could be at times.
“I’m much obliged for you sticking around last night, Doc,” Clinton said. “Right kind of you.”
Leaning close, Serenity kissed his cheek and her hold on his hand tightened. Her gaze fell on a simple, clear glass jar overflowing with Vi’s Violet roses sitting on the window sill. “Dad, where did those roses come from?”
