More table than desk, the piece of furniture was made from Brazilian Rosewood, an intense and colorful grain sweeping through it that had garnered her attention the minute she laid eyes on it. She had discovered it in an off-color boutique in the Grove and was her first official purchase as a physician. A reward to herself that now sat mostly idle.
You’ll be in veritable heaven, scouring their markets for the next interesting piece of furniture for our new home.
Will I? When will I have the time to enjoy them? Between work and travel, she didn’t see much time left for anything else in her life.
The drawing drew her gaze. Full-color, the scene was half-jungle, half-coastline and could have been a rendition from Brazil or Spain, or a myriad of other exotic destinations. Sinking further into the imagery, she tried to recall exactly what she had been thinking when she drew that picture.
When had she done it? College? High school?
She shook her head. She remembered. It was the summer between high school and college, a time in her life when the full exhilaration of life’s potential awaited her, enticing her to reach for the stars. Her acceptance to the University of Miami had been a given, since the majority of her first year classes had been completed during her senior year of high school—which gave her the freedom to explore, to live...to exist.
No demands, no worries, it was a brief window of time where she had lived in the moment. Her mother had suggested she spend the summer in Europe like some of her friends planned to do, but she had declined. Sam tried to lure her with an itinerary that would take her clear across the continent and back, but she remained adamant. Schedules were her norm. For once, she preferred the alternative; do nothing. Live, breathe, and savor the experience of doing nothing.
That was when she drew the scene. She peeled it from her imagination as clear as if she were sitting on the shoreline shaded by the canopy of vibrant green, peppered with luscious reds, brilliant orange, and of course, the sparkle of crystalline blue water as it lapped against the pink sandy beach.
Jennifer chuckled, warmed by the recollection. When Sam returned home from Europe and asked what she had done all summer, her reply was to simply unfurl her portfolio of artwork.
Sam’s jaw nearly broke as it hit the tile floor. With utter disbelief, she gaped at her. “That’s it? You drew pictures?”
“That’s it,” she said proudly. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”
“Yes, sure...” She glanced back at the drawings. “But that’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it?” Jennifer proposed. “Life is about living, Sam. From the inside out. You of all people should be able to understand that.”
“I do.” Sam’s complaint dissolved. “I just didn’t expect this.” She leafed through the papers, her admiration clear. “They’re good, though. Really good.” She turned. “I didn’t know you could draw like this?
She beamed. “You know me, full of surprises!”
Sam smirked. “Speaking of surprises...” A naughty grin took hold. “Wanna know what happened to me in Italy?”
Jennifer smiled, and dropped her chin to her knees. Sam would be Sam. Some things would never change.
Her pleasure faded. But some things do. Like her life. And she wondered, rushing to marry, waiting for death. What was the goal? Everything could change in an evening. Africa.
Honeymoon in the Canary Islands. She peered more closely at her drawing. Would they be as beautiful? Would they be exotic? Longing pulled at her. Sam asked the question. How could he ask you at a time like this?
She wanted to know the answer to that one, too. Did he think she could just drop everything and follow him? She thought he respected her career. Understood what it meant to her, the time and commitment it demanded.
Perhaps Aurelio should travel alone. Solitude had been a friend to her in the past. It had allowed her imagination to run free and uninhibited, giving a satisfaction deeper than she expected possible. Why not now?
Something deep inside her closed. Because now her life was different. Solitude meant confinement—to her thoughts, memories. It was best to be avoided. At all costs. Her life was busy now, and busy made her happy. It was full. It kept her looking forward, outward, giving her no time to reflect. What she missed, what she lacked...
Even if it meant traveling halfway across the world.
Chapter Fifteen
Coffee in hand, Jennifer grabbed her briefcase and jogged down the patio steps. “Good morning, Jackson!”
Up to his knees in dirt—literally—he paused from his digging. “Good morning!”
“Do you have a minute?” Dressed in pink scrubs and pale blue Crocs, she strode across the dirt-covered yard, stopping just shy of the plump row of hibiscus; blooms of red, yellow and pink nestled close in a midst of vibrant green leaves, leaves almost heart-shaped in form and covered with a sheen of dew.
Jabbing the blade of his shovel into the soft pile of dirt, he swiped his brow. “I’ve got one right now.” He slipped the work gloves from his hands. “What’s up?”
She neared, surprised by the hint of woodsy spice clinging to the air around him and thought, that won’t last long!
She enjoyed a private chuckle. “I was wondering...what kind of time frame are we talking to construct the fireplace up on the terrace?”
“Depends. I’d have to check my contractor’s availability to do the work on short notice, but he’s pretty good about coming through for me. Why? Are you interested?”
“Unless it’s a problem. I can always add it later.”
“No worries.”
“And the railing?”
“Much easier,” he laughed, his eyes crinkling dirt at the corners. “I know where to get it and how to put it in, so there’ll be no waiting. You’re good to go on that count.”
She hesitated. “I hate to push, but do you think it could all be completed by the wedding date?”
“Absolutely.” He relaxed into a smile, his teeth white against his dirt-dusted complexion. “So you’re considering the idea?”
“I am,” she confirmed, suppressing a tickle of anticipation beneath her rib cage.
“Fantastic. I think it will really make a statement. December to February, you won’t want to leave that porch and come spring, you can place some ferns inside and enjoy the porch all year long.”
Jennifer noticed that his eyes never wavered from hers, his expression never deterred from its friendly stance, and his smile, once he finished speaking fell easily back into place. “You may be right.”
“Trust me, you won’t be sorry.”
She swallowed. I haven’t been, yet.
“I set the ginger out front and will put the remainder in here before I go,” he said, itemizing his progress report. “It’s a variegated shell with fragrant white blossoms that will bloom during springtime. A real nice wake-up call after winter.”
Plants weren’t just plants with him, were they? Everything had a purpose. Like characters in a play, each plant seemed to carry a specific duty or manage a specific season. But then again, Jackson was more than a gardener; he was a landscaper extraordinaire!
“I’ve got the flower boxes ready for the front windows—but the Lantanas haven’t arrived yet.”
“Lantanas?”
Jackson’s face opened into an enthusiastic grin. “I’ve ordered some real beauties for out front. A mix of orange-red and yellow flowers. A striking combination, like the most dazzling sunset you’ve ever seen. The nursery I use grows some incredible stuff, producing intense green growth and some of the richest color I’ve seen anywhere. They’ll be the first thing you see when you drive in.”
“Really...”
“After the fountain, that is.”
Jennifer laughed aloud this time. Soft and friendly, Jackson genuinely loved his work. Plants and flowers, colors and analogies, he was everything Michael sold him to be. The man was pure genius when it came to the landscape.
Jackson swiped the back of his hand beneath his
chin. “You’re going to love the way the splash of water makes you feel when you come home after a long day at the hospital. It opens the door for chill time like nothing else.”
She smiled. He was probably right. The cascade of water did have a way of relaxing the harried mind, especially important with a career like hers. When plants died or drinks spilled, you simply removed them. Not so with patients.
Jennifer sighed. “I think the yard is going to look great, Jackson. I appreciate all your hard work.”
The compliment lit up his face. “Thanks, Jennifer. Have you decided what kind of flowers you want for the arbor? I was thinking mandevilla or wisteria. You could go with a climbing rose too, but you’ll get a longer blooming season with the others.”
Jennifer drew a blank and cast a glance toward the intended location. “I have no idea what any of those are.”
Jackson smiled. “They’re all flowering vines of sorts, with blooms that vary in color and shape. My personal favorite is the mandevilla. It comes in various colors, though my favorite is red. Wisteria in shades of purple or pink would also be nice.” He focused more intently upon her. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Uh...” she stammered, caught off guard by the question. “I like pink, purple...” She turned to the hibiscus, its brilliant blooms reminding her of the jungle drawing inside. “I also like bright and tropical colors. Red, yellow and pink, particularly when mixed all together... They seem so invigorating.”
“I agree. When considering color, you want to gravitate toward the colors that resonate with your spirit, your emotion.”
Jennifer gaped. Resonate?
“That way the garden will be a constant pleasure. Like I said before, when designing your garden I like to make it a place you want to spend your time. Bloom color is key. It can make all the difference in the world.”
“Shouldn’t the colors work well together, too?”
“Absolutely,” he said, impassioned as a grade school teacher fawning over a student finally getting it. “It’s all about the color wheel. From opposing to analogous, the placement of color has strong significance in any schemata.”
Jennifer must have surely looked as ignorant as she felt, because Jackson jumped into further explanation. “Colors work together in different ways. Monochromatic is a range of one shade—which I don’t recommend for your garden. Then there’s analogous; colors side by side on the color ring that can be used to create a nice flow from space to space. But my favorite method is to use complementary colors. Like your house, for instance. Using colors that oppose each other on the wheel tend to be more striking, yet visually balanced. The dark blue of your awnings is a complement to the yellow-orange of your walls. A more complex variation includes the deep-green foliage that surrounds your house. Taking it a step further, would be a tetrad combination, otherwise known as using four colors equally spaced apart on the color ring.” He smiled again. “Makes for a harmonious color theme which is why I chose those particular shades of Lantana. The red will complete the tetrad of your home’s exterior colors, and really make a statement.”
Jennifer was stunned. She had no idea his thought process was so involved. She figured he was choosing colors he liked, or plants that were popular. “Wow.” It was all she could manage. “In the future, you’ll be the first one I call for lawn emergencies.” The cell phone at her hip vibrated. She unclipped it and answered, “Dr. Hamilton.”
“Should we send for your patient?”
“Yes.” She mouthed goodbye to Jackson and hurried to her car. “I’m on my way.”
As Jennifer waved herself off, Jax watched her drive from sight. “Landscape emergencies.” While he knew it was a compliment, the statement settled in him like a rock. Replacing his gloves, he walked back to his work area. He grabbed the shovel and thrust the blade into the ground. But that’s what he was here for, right? Landscape.
Jax wedged the shovel deep and scooped the dirt free. That was the problem, working for a beautiful woman. There was always a part of you that wanted more. Whether it was because she was dressed casually in scrub clothes, or the fact she was warming up to him, her appeal had increased—tenfold. Compared to their previous encounters, the woman was becoming a whole football field easier to talk to.
And those eyes. Blue as Bahamas water and just as crystal clear. Those babies could lure a man in like a hypnotist’s dazzling glass ball. They’d carry him right past that narrow, aristocratic nose of hers and straight to the heart. Straight to the core. A man could definitely lose himself there for awhile.
Jax laughed at himself. Thank God he had experienced the first few days with the good and severe Doctor Hamilton! That lady was about as approachable as a cactus which provided excellent come-on repellent.
Particularly important in this case because Jennifer was exactly his type with her straight brown hair, soft clear skin. Her lithe figure, her muscles naturally firm.
And those eyes. He let out a soft whistle. Ocean blue was absolutely his favorite color, and a weak spot when framed in the face of a beautiful woman.
He shook his head and dumped the last fern into the hole, then proceeded to shovel the dirt back in around it. Getting lost in the likes of Jennifer Hamilton would put a major kink in his life. Women didn’t drop their medical careers to float around on the open sea for a month, no matter how attractive the man may seem.
He grunted a half laugh. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. Maria told him in plain English, the answer was no. She went so far as to add he was a jerk for even asking. Which he never did understand. Since when did asking someone to join you for the cruise of their life constitute being a jerk?
Old resentment soured in his stomach, but Jax allowed it to pass. Independent women liked to set the rules. They didn’t follow and they didn’t wait. Maria had been very clear: When you were dependent on someone else, you might as well call them master. They would.
Jax tamped the dirt down around the plant with his boot. He couldn’t disagree with her which is why she left. With his blessing. Finished, he turned and headed toward his truck. At least in this case, the issue would never come up. This woman was off-limits.
Glancing at the house, he had to admit he was pleased. The fireplace was the perfect complement for the oasis he was creating out here and the fact she agreed made his job all the more rewarding. Battling with clients over design elements wasn’t something he liked to do, though many times he found himself reminding them they hired him for a reason.
Incorporating their ideas into his vision and expertise usually made for a mishmash of plants and flowers. Jackson Montgomery Landscape brought yards to life. When he attached his name to a job, he wanted the end result to be a reflection of his artistry, not a jumble of plants.
Pulling his mobile from the dashboard of his truck, he was grateful on that count. Dr. Jennifer Hamilton now seemed content to let him handle the job. And handle it, he would.
# # #
Jennifer stood over her patient. Completely covered in blue sterile paper, save for the small opening at his groin, she held the catheter steady. “How’s his pressure?”
“Steady, one thirty over ninety.”
“How are you doing, Mr. Nunez?”
“Good,” he mumbled from beneath his cover
“We’re almost finished.” Jennifer slid the catheter free and handed it to the awaiting nurse. “Everything looks great.” She applied pressure to the incision area and patted his arm. “The nurse will get you cleaned up, okay?”
He nodded, though she doubted he was fully coherent. Most patients were able to follow and understand, but some, like Mr. Nunez, wouldn’t remember a thing. He had been extremely agitated before the procedure, which required an extra dose of Versed and Fentanyl to calm him. But she continued to talk her patients through the procedure, whether they remembered or not.
Jennifer stepped aside as the male nurse took over, pressing a gauze where her hand had been. “Is the family here?”
> “Yes doctor,” he said through his mask. “In the waiting room.”
“Thanks.” Jennifer picked up the chart on her way out. She stopped in the control room and jotted down her notes. Slapping it closed, she left it on the counter and headed for the family. In the corridor, a blonde nurse hurried up to her.
“Dr. Hamilton—ER’s calling you. Your patient Sarah Wiley just arrived by ambulance.”
She stopped short. “What happened?”
“Paramedics called it in. Cardiac arrest.”
“Oh, no.” Jennifer bolted down the hall. “Get a room ready, stat,” she called back and punched a metal plate on the wall. Double doors began to open. “C’mon, c’mon.” She edged sideways through the narrow opening and ran to the emergency room. She strode past beds, checking each one. “Where is she?” Faces flipped up in question. “Sarah Wiley—which bed is she?”
“Down here, Dr. Hamilton!”
Jennifer hurried toward the voice at the opposite end of the room. Curtain shoved aside, paramedics worked with hospital staff to transfer the lifeless body from bed to bed. “One, two, three—move!”
Their pace was quick, controlled. A female nurse started attaching electrodes to Sarah’s chest.
Breathless, Jennifer asked, “How is she?”
“Stabilized.” The male paramedic hooked Sarah’s IV next to the monitor and reeled, “Pressure’s one thirty-eight over ninety-one. Rate’s eighty-two. We ran a 12-lead. ST elevation. We gave her two milligrams nitro.”
“When did this happen?” she demanded.
“About an hour ago. Daughter was with her when it happened. Gave her an aspirin.” He pulled his sheet clear as the nurse laid another in its place.
Daughter. Jennifer ground her thoughts over the mention of the woman. “Is she here?”
The paramedic tipped his head toward the waiting room. “She’s in there.”
“Cath lab is prepping for her now. I’m going to talk to the daughter.” Pushing through a glass door, Jennifer searched for Sarah’s daughter. Comfortably seated in an end chair below the television, she was leafing through a magazine.
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