by JoAnn Durgin
Serenity turned away. “It’s nothing.”
From the corner of her eye, she could tell he raked his fingers through his hair. Next he’d be rubbing his hand over his chin. She was getting rather used to his habits and found them all endearing.
“Not buying it. Tell me.”
“I can only imagine how you’re such an expert, Mr. Psychologist. Knowing how women tick and all.” She cringed. That didn’t sound pretty, and the only guarantee was that it irritated him. It annoyed her even more that his statement sounded like something her father would say.
“Look, if this is about me kissing you...” Sure enough, Jackson rubbed his hand over his chin with a frown.
Her hands traveled to her hips. “You’d better believe it’s about the kiss!” Frustration bubbled up inside her when the corners of his mouth lifted. “I don’t find anything funny about the fact that you played with my emotions.”
“Serenity, baby, you’ve got it all wrong.” He frowned. “Don’t get mad. It couldn’t be helped.”
She took an involuntary step backward as he came closer. “Don’t baby me.” What was it about men and that particular nickname? “Did your lips just happen to fall on mine? I’m a party to the entire kissing scenario. Or was it that my lips were the nearest ones handy to satisfy your...primal urges?”
He laughed but stopped when he saw her frown. “Oh, come on, Serenity. What’s got you more upset...the fact that I kissed you in public the first time or the fact that I broke it off so abruptly?” His grin broke through. “If it’s any consolation, I really enjoyed it. Loved it. Want to dance on a rooftop and shout to the world about it. It ended all too soon. I thought we fit pretty well together, but that’s another thing I suspected all along.”
“Oh...you!” She seethed, but part of her wanted to laugh. The tension was getting to her. She needed to go to the beach and take a long walk, feel the wind whip through her hair and clear her head. Get Jackson Ross and that kiss out of her head. How pathetic was she if all it took was one pretend passionate kiss to get her so stirred up?
“What did you expect me to do?” he asked. “The woman—Carmen—was headed straight for us, and no offense, but you looked like a sitting duck. You couldn’t be a detective if your life depended on it.”
“So,” she said, twisting her mouth not to give into a threatening grin, “your best solution was to grab and kiss me like some kind of sex-crazed man so the woman wouldn’t notice we were watching her?”
“Well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
“If anything, you probably called even more attention to us. Ever think about that?”
“We might never know. If she is following you, we gave her something to see, right?” When she shook her head, he shrugged and started walking again. “You’re really cute when you’re all feisty and flustered. So, did the kiss do anything for you?”
Serenity blew out a sigh. No sense in sparring with him. She was tired and wanted to go home. “It was good.” Much better than good, but it was all she could muster.
When she stopped, Jackson backed up a few steps to stand beside her. “Care to share?”
“Did you say the first time?”
Tilting his head to one side, he appeared puzzled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The kiss. You said something about it being the first time.”
That slow, lazy grin surfaced. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Which would imply there’s going to be a second time, and...” Stop talking now.
Jackson took a step closer. “Would you like a repeat performance right here? Right now? I’m willing if you are.”
She whirled around and started walking. “That won’t be necessary.” When he was beside her again, she darted a glance his way. “I like my kisses private.”
Shaking his head, Jackson chuckled under his breath. “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference. And, I realize I’m probably pushing my luck here, but what was the hip action you mentioned?”
“What?” She shook her head.
“When you were telling me how you knew it was Carmen and you said something like, ‘It’s all in the hips.’” Oh, his grin hinted of mischief, dimple and all. “Should I ask for a demonstration? That’s bound to be interesting.”
Well, fine, she’d give the man a show. “All right, mister. You asked for it.” Glancing around, relieved no one else was around and they were alone, Serenity demonstrated, feeling foolish but doing her best to duplicate the gentle sway of her hips. “This is how Carmen walks. I noticed it at the picnic.” She sighed and stopped. “You can’t tell me you didn’t, Jackson. You’re a man, you’re breathing and you’re not blind. It’s the calculated kind of move designed to attract every red-blooded man on the planet.”
He laughed and crossed his arms over that distractingly taut chest. “Remember, I’m a blue-blooded male. I’m different.”
“Yes, you are definitely that last part. I’ll give you that much.” They started walking back in the direction of her office.
“By the way, that little hip action thing was pretty sexy,” he said. When he reached for her, Serenity slipped her hand in his. “You can do it anytime you want, but in private, if you please.”
Serenity felt her cheeks flush. All she could do was give him a goofy smile and keep walking, but maybe with a little more hip action than usual.
True to form, Justin marched in Jackson’s office for his appointment the following Tuesday morning. Waving to Arnie on the shelf, he stopped at the terrarium to pay his respects to Señor Igor before plopping in the small chair opposite his desk. “You’re playing Mozart.”
“That’s right,” Jackson said, not bothering to hide his surprise. Ever since he’d heard Mozart in Serenity’s office, he’d developed more of an appreciation for classical music. “It’s Symphony Number Ten in G—”
“Symphony Number Five in G Minor.” Mrs. Johnson came into the office, closing the door behind her.
“You’re right,” Jackson said. “My mistake.” As usual, the woman’s expression was stoic and noncommittal. What were the odds she’d know it by name, the exact same symphony he’d heard playing in Serenity’s office?
“Grandma takes me to the symphony in New York sometimes,” he said. When talking with this child, he had to remind himself this patient was only a four-year-old boy. In terms of certain aspects of his life, Justin was more on-par with a twenty-four-year-old man. He appreciated how Mrs. Johnson dressed him age-appropriately in shorts and T-shirts instead of like a miniature corporate executive. No doubt, this child would grow up to be a fine man in spite of the apparent lack of parental presence in his life. He’d seen a lot of families where grandparents—one or both—had become the primary caregivers for their grandchildren for any number of reasons. Most accepted the responsibility with grace, and some even fought for the right to raise them.
“That’s wonderful, Justin. Your grandmother wants to make sure you learn about all kinds of things. Music and the arts are important and help us better understand the world around us.” Jackson tried not to smirk at the pompousness of that spiel, but it was true. Sure, he’d appreciated cultural things in the past, but he’d never thought much about attending the orchestra although he’d seen a few Broadway plays. Even then, he’d gone primarily because his date wanted to go, but he’d drawn the line at musicals.
Returning his focus to his patient, irritated by his own lack of concentration, Jackson cleared his throat. The drawing. Justin mentioned it in the last session and Mrs. Johnson promised to tell him more about the mysterious relatives in Croisette Shores. “I understand you have something you want to show me today?”
“Yep. Nana has it.” Sliding out of the chair, Justin walked over to her, leaning against her knees and swaying back and forth while he waited. The boy’s body language reinforced the inherent trust and affection shared between him and his grandmother. Outside of the office, Jackson imagined she was loving and giving, unlike
the cool and distant woman she presented in their sessions.
Opening her purse, Mrs. Johnson pulled out a piece of heavy white paper folded in quarters and handed it to Justin. “Go show Dr. Ross your nice drawing, sweetie.”
Jackson sat up straighter and his pulse picked up speed. Reaching for the paper, he unfolded it, but didn’t look at it. Not yet, although it took restraint. “Can you tell me about your drawing?” Walking around the desk, he pulled a chair next to where Justin sat in the smaller one. His knee bothered him more than usual and he tried to hide his grimace. “Who’s this?” He held up the drawing of four figures and pointed to the tall, thin figure of a woman. Jackson hid his smile when he realized the dark circles over the eyes represented sunglasses.
“That’s Nana.” Based on Justin’s expression, that question was a dumb one.
“And this?” The figure was as tall as the rendering of his grandmother, but she wore a long, flowing pink gown. He’d colored her hair yellow and her big eyes bright blue.
“That’s my mama.” The boy’s tone sounded somewhat wistful and he touched the drawing, his finger lingering on the figure for a few seconds.
Jackson searched for the right questions and his mind raced almost as fast as his pulse. “Your mama looks very pretty.”
He nodded. “She’s beautiful.” He glanced at his grandmother. “Right, Nana?”
“Yes.” One word, but tinged with an edge of raw emotion he’d never heard from her before.
Jackson pointed to the figure of a child wearing pants. “This is you?” Behind the figures were wavy lines colored in blue. “And you’re standing by the ocean?”
Again, the boy nodded. One figure—a taller man in pants—stood to the side of the other figures.
“Who is this? Is this your father?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “That’s my grandpa.”
Jackson swallowed hard, his head spinning. Keep the conversation flowing. As much as he wanted to face Mrs. Johnson to gauge her reaction, he kept his focus trained on the drawing. In the span of only a few minutes, they were making more headway than in any of the previous sessions combined. He bit his tongue not to ask Justin where his father was. The fact he wasn’t depicted in the boy’s drawing was significant enough.
“What’s this over here?” Jackson pointed to a brown, rectangular design near the bottom right corner of the drawing.
“Oh, that’s a sand castle. See,” he said, pointing to another smaller object on the beach in his drawing, “that’s the sand pail and scooper thing.” When Justin leaned close, Jackson caught a whiff of a sweet-smelling perfume lingering in his T-shirt, probably from when he’d been hugged by his grandmother. Something about it jogged Jackson’s brain. One of his teachers used to wear the same scent. Some flower that used to grow in the summer near the house where he grew up.
“Have you been to the beach much since you’ve been here in Croisette Shores?” Jackson forced himself to ask. He needed to garner as much information as he could before Mrs. Johnson cut him off. She’d done it both times before, so why should this session be any different? With this woman, it was only a matter of time. To her credit, she kept coming back with Justin, but she made it clear she also wanted to be in control of the discussion. He could live with it as long as she understood it would take longer to help the boy if she stifled his answers and repeatedly cut their sessions short.
“We go to the beach on Friday mornings,” Justin said.
“Do you play with any of the other children?”
Mrs. Johnson coughed. Was that a signal to discontinue his current line of questioning? If it was, how was he supposed to know? He’d keep going until she cut him off again.
“Sometimes.”
“There’s a little girl named Maya that’s about your age that goes to the beach with her grandfather a lot,” Jackson said. “Dark brown curly hair and green eyes. Have you met her?”
Justin shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”
Sneaking a glance at Mrs. Johnson, Jackson saw her twisting her hands in her lap. For whatever reason, that particular question struck a nerve. Clutching her purse to her chest with both hands, her fingers turned white.
“Tell me more about your mother. What else can you tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer came as a shock. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“He doesn’t know because he hasn’t met her yet,” Mrs. Johnson said, her words clipped.
“Never?” His jaw went slack, and it took him a moment before he could continue. Justin swung his legs and waited. Patience was one of the boy’s many virtues, especially in one so young.
“You’re here in Croisette Shores to meet your mother for the first time?” Jackson finally managed. Was Justin adopted? Given up at birth?
Justin nodded and his brown eyes looked so sad, Jackson longed to hug him. If the boy’s forbidding grandmother wasn’t sitting in the same room, glaring at him, he’d probably do it.
“I know one thing,” Justin said finally.
“What’s that?” If Jackson wasn’t mistaken, Mrs. Johnson strained forward to hear the boy’s words. She was probably afraid of what he’d say, but at least she didn’t jump to her feet, abruptly end the session and haul the child away.
“She’s a princess.”
“A real princess?” His thoughts immediately went to Serenity.
“Nana calls her that sometimes.”
Jackson’s head pounded with the suspicions forming in his mind. “Do you know your mommy’s name?”
“No names, please. Not yet,” Mrs. Johnson said from across the room. “Justin, remember what we talked about.”
Jackson sat back in the chair, rubbing a hand over his brow. Inside, he seethed at the fact this woman wouldn’t permit the boy to answer without imposition. “Tell me this. Is there anyone else you’re here in town to meet?”
Justin glanced at Mrs. Johnson and then back at him again. He nodded as if in slow motion.
Leaning his arms on his thighs, Jackson leaned closer. Inches away, he looked him directly in the eye. “Tell me, Justin. Besides your mommy, who else are you looking forward to meeting for the first time?”
“Grandma says my gr—”
“Your grandpa, right? The one from your drawing?”
“That’s enough for today.” Mrs. Johnson rose to her feet. She gave Jackson a pointed glance. “We’ll see you again next week, Dr. Ross.”
Jackson closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to maintain his calm. He couldn’t lash out at her in front of the child. Why was she dragging out this process? He’d never been a fan of the Big Reveal, as he’d termed it. Too much mystery and for what purpose? In some ways, it was more harmful to bring Justin and then slow everything to a snail’s pace. If he demanded answers, it’d be the kiss of death with these sessions if not his entire practice, at least here in Croisette Shores.
Lord, grant me patience.
Justin went out to the waiting room to speak with his newly-hired assistant and receptionist, Audra Toomey. Rising from his chair, Jackson was surprised when Mrs. Johnson paused in the doorway. “I know you’re upset with me for interrupting. Perhaps that was wrong, but I have my reasons for the timing of the introductions to Justin’s relatives. Everything I’ve done is for his own protection and for that purpose alone.” She blew out a sigh.
“So you’ve said before. I believe you.”
She nodded. “I appreciate that.”
“Tell me this. Did you adopt him?” Standing in front of her, he kept his voice low.
Her mouth downturned. “No, not exactly.”
What kind of answer is that? Her latest version of evasion, apparently. This was becoming increasingly maddening with every new session. The concept of one step forward and three back certainly applied to this situation. Jackson’s frown matched hers as he stared her down. Tired of the guessing games, he needed some solid answers.
“Dr. Ross, I guarantee
you’ve never heard a story like ours.”
“One I hope to hear sooner than later.” That sounded rude, but it was honest. “I understand your concern for Justin and wanting to take things slow. My observation is that he’s fine, but I’m beginning to wonder if you’re the one who’s worried about what may happen.”
“We’ll see you again next week.” Mrs. Johnson turned to go, but not before she squared her shoulders and tensed. Just like he’d seen Serenity do when she was bothered yet determined. When the woman lifted her chin, he almost gasped.
Lord, what’s happening here?
“Bye, Doc Jack!” With a small wave, Justin skipped beside his grandmother as they departed.
Twenty minutes later, Jackson sat at his desk, staring into space. A hundred different thoughts swirled in his mind, warring for precedence in his cluttered brain. He hadn’t even been able to formulate his thoughts for his report yet.
“Dr. Ross?”
He pushed the intercom. “Yes, Audra?”
“Your brother’s on Line 1.”
“Kyle or Chad?”
“Kyle.”
Good. “I’ll pick up. Thanks.” He reached for the receiver and swung around in his chair, staring at the cross on the wall. “What’s the good word, little brother?”
“I got that report you wanted. You want me to send it email or fax?”
“Email. Same address as before.”
“Sure thing. Will do in a sec. Hey, you okay, Jax? You sound a little strange.”
Jackson forced a laugh, knowing full well Kyle wouldn’t buy it. “No more than usual, I’m sure. Thanks for getting the report, bro. I owe you one.”
“Don’t think I won’t make good on that offer. I’d hide that medal if I were you.”
“Talk to you later. Send me that report before you get too busy and forget about it.”
“You know me too well. Patience, big brother. I just clicked the send button.”
Jackson swung back around to the computer and clicked on his email account. “Got it. Thanks, Kyle. Talk to you later.”
