Jennifer's Garden

by Dianne Venetta

  Jennifer marched up to her. “Your mother’s in bad shape. She needs a stent. I need you to sign the papers for the procedure.”

  “Is she okay?”

  So nice of you to ask. Jennifer crossed her arms and looked down at her. “Considering she almost died, yes, I’d say she’s okay. But she needs a stent and she needs it now.”

  To her credit, the woman looked relieved. She lowered the magazine to her lap. “Are you sure she needs it?”

  “I was sure she needed it last week,” Jennifer shot back.

  “I gave her an aspirin.”

  “That was wise.”

  “If you’re sure...”

  “She needs the procedure. Wait here. They’ll bring you the paperwork.” She turned on her heel. It was time to scrub.

  In the darkened lab, Jennifer stepped on the floor pedal and studied the flow of dark liquid as it passed through the squiggly lines on the monitor above. The gray image moved in rhythm with Sarah’s heart, beat for beat. Holding the catheter in place at Sarah’s groin, she pumped more contrast dye and watched as it squirted through the coronaries, catching in the same spot. “That’s it. Picture.”

  From inside the control room, technicians recorded the image. She detached the syringe-like injector and set it aside. “Balloon.” She held her hand out as a nurse placed the floppy catheter into her palm. Checking Sarah’s rhythm running across a separate monitor, satisfied she was holding up, Jennifer carefully navigated through stiff arteries, but the balloon stopped short.

  “Ectopy.”

  Jennifer glanced at her patient’s pulse monitor. It was to be expected. Poking around a sensitive heart was bound to create irritability. Checking the fluoroscopy image, she gently pushed through the calcified area until the balloon tip appeared onscreen at the location of the blockage.

  Adjusting position, she inflated the balloon. Satisfied it was enough, she deflated the pressure and pulled the catheter free. The dye flowed through the artery with ease. “Picture.”

  “Got it.”

  “Stent.” The next balloon was given to Jennifer, this one with a wire mesh stent wrapped around the balloon. Blood was beginning to collect on her gloved hands which made it more difficult to glide the catheters in. With short pushes, she advanced the stent into position. This time as she inflated the balloon, it expanded the stent. Deflating once again, she pulled the wire, leaving the stent inside the artery. “Picture.”

  “Got it.”

  Jennifer rolled her neck back and forth across her shoulders to release the grip of tension.

  “V-tach.”

  She jerked her head forward. Sarah’s pulse raced across the screen unchecked. “Charge!”

  The scrub technician charged the external defibrillator. In seconds, it reached the standard 200 joules. “Ready.”

  Break, break, she willed the frantic bleeping to cease. Shocking Sarah’s heart out of the irregular rhythm was the last thing she wanted to do. But if it was necessary...

  Watching the monitor, Jennifer held steady.

  No one in the room spoke. All eyes were on the monitor.

  “Darn it, Sarah,” she murmured under her mask, then said aloud to the technician, “Shock.”

  The patient’s body jumped from the bed.

  No longer racing, the green line on the monitor lay flat.

  “Pace.”

  “Pacing, rate of eighty.”

  Instantly, the monitor came to life.

  “Bring pacing down,” Jennifer directed.

  “Bringing pacing down to seventy.”

  Sarah was still dependent on the pacer. “Sixty.”

  “Sixty.”

  Sarah’s heart began beating on its own. She sighed. Good girl. Jennifer looked at the gray picture image. Now she’d be forced to make sure the shock had not altered the placement of her stent.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As she pulled into her driveway, the sight of Jackson’s truck warmed her mood a degree. Jennifer inhaled deeply and released her breath in one long, fluid sigh. She had missed him yesterday afternoon. Shifting the car into park, she collected her belongings and slid out of the vehicle. Funny how his presence was becoming something to which she looked forward.

  Standing next to his truck, Jackson slipped a tool into the pocket of a black strap wrapped around his work bucket, then wiped a small triangular spade using a filthy gray rag.

  Is he leaving for the day? Jennifer quickened her pace. “Hello Jackson!”

  He turned at the sound of her voice and opened into his usual smile. “Hey, Jennifer.” He gave her a brisk wave, but then continued with his cleanup.

  “The flowers look great.”

  “I’m glad you like them,” he said, lifting the cement crusted bucket from the ground and heaving it over the edge of his truck bed.

  Her eyes jogged toward the house as she hesitated over the name of the flower. “What do you call them again?”

  “Lantanas.”

  “Lantanas, yes. You were right. They really attract your attention when you drive in.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  Jennifer watched as he dumped the contents of his garbage pail into the disposal bin in the back, then tossed it in after. Behind him, she could see brick pavers set neatly within wooden forms, the beginnings of her terrace. She took a few steps in his direction, but stopped. The humidity pressed in. Smoothing a hand over her hair, pulled back into a low ponytail, she said, “The patio looks wonderful.”

  “Thanks.” He placed his tools in a built-in steel compartment box in the bed of his truck. “The guys did a great job.” He flipped the tailgate closed and turned. “But let it cure for a good forty-eight hours before you walk on it.” Wiping his hands clean with a fairly clean wet towel, he gazed at her, his pause pronounced. As though he expected her to say something more, or head into the house.

  “So then your day went well?” Jennifer asked, struck by the routine nature of the question, as though it were old habit.

  “Better than yesterday.” He knocked a chunk of dirt from his arm. “The inspector showed up this afternoon, so we can get started on the fountain tomorrow.”

  “Well, that does sound good.” She smiled, aware her heartbeat had picked up its pace.

  “It is. Actually, it used to take a lot longer to get permits, but these days the internet facilitates the process. You can get them for simple projects in no time at all.” He smiled. “Relatively speaking.”

  She nodded. “There’s still the human element to consider, isn’t there?”

  “Always,” he agreed, though his smile had dimmed. “How about you? Good day?”

  “Tough. Too many patients squeezed into too few hours, plus two trips to the ER.” Jennifer dropped her gaze, and scraped the bottom of her shoe over a small rock in the driveway. “I nearly lost one of them.”

  “Oh, no.”

  She lifted her gaze back to meet his, struck by the emotion swimming in his eyes. It was more than she would have expected from a stranger. “It wasn’t good. But we’re short-staffed at the moment. One of my partners has been out on extended leave and another’s on vacation. The workload is taking its toll. My patients are getting shortchanged on their time with me and there’s not a thing I can do about it. Nothing.” Something that bothered her tremendously. “I can only schedule them so late into the evening... After that, you simply run out of time.”

  “I know what you mean. When everyone wants a piece of you, sometimes there’s not enough to go around.”

  “Something has to give. Unfortunately for me,” Jennifer frowned. “It’s turning out to be my patients.”

  “Is your partner coming back on line any time soon?”

  Her dropped her shoulders in a shrug. “We don’t know. He had a massive MI and his recuperation will take awhile. How long,” she held up her hands in question, “is anyone’s guess.”

  “That is tough.”

  “Life is short,” she added, though not particularly sure why.


  “That it is.”

  Allowing her gaze to wander, thoughts of Sarah and Aurelio and Sam and her mother swirled together. A light breeze brushed the back of her neck. “Do you ever feel like you can’t keep up with your own life? Like you want to hit the rewind button so you know what’s coming beforehand, giving you time to react?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’d eliminate a lot of headaches that way.”

  “Yes.” She glanced away. Heat seemed to collect on her forehead. “And heartaches.”

  Jax peered at her. “You seem a bit rattled today. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  “Rattled,” she said, letting loose with a ragged sigh. “I guess you could call it that.” She smoothed the backside of her cotton scrubs, warm against her body in the afternoon sun. With a small smile she returned her gaze to him. “I had a patient land in the ER today. She needed an emergency stent. We succeeded, but she almost didn’t make it.”

  Jax’s jaw went slack. Beads of sweat clustered heavy on his brow. “Oh, no...”

  “What’s worse, it shouldn’t have come to that. I recommended she do the procedure months ago, but her family waited.”

  “Why?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I have no idea. Her daughter wasn’t convinced, she wasn’t sure...” She looked into his eyes, as though she’d find the answer there. “I feel awful about it.”

  “You’re not blaming yourself, are you?”

  “Somewhat, yes.” She gazed out over her yard and linked her arms together. “It’s my job to convince her, isn’t it?”

  “You did everything you could. She’s alive, right?”

  Jennifer nodded.

  “She has you to thank for that. Mike says you’re the best of the best. She couldn’t have been in better hands.”

  “She nearly died. I should have insisted. Long before it came to this, I should have insisted she have it done.”

  “People have minds of their own, Jennifer and sometimes, as much as we’d like to change them, they have their own ideas for living.”

  “Why anyone would wait? With all the technology we have today, why would anyone risk sudden death?” It was a concept she couldn’t wrap her mind around.

  Jax pulled a couple of plastic buckets from the back of his truck and set them on the ground with a thud, upside down. He lowered himself onto one and gestured for her to do the same.

  She did.

  He pulled a fresh cloth from his front pocket and wiped his forehead. “People have their reasons, Jennifer.”

  “What could they possibly be? When they know a simple procedure could save their lives, why would they wait?”

  “Maybe she was afraid.” He pushed the cloth back into his pocket. “There are risks associated with any surgical procedure, aren’t there?”

  “Yes,” she answered, a hint of rancor to her voice, glancing at the ground. “But they are minimal when weighed against an almost certain heart attack. This family bet against the odds. They had all the tools at their disposal and still, they bet against the odds.”

  “I know what you mean. But it still comes down to choice.”

  “Irrational.” She angled her shoulders away from him. “It’s unacceptable.”

  “I agree.” Jax laced his fingers together and dropped forearms to his thighs. “My mom lost the same gamble.”

  Jennifer looked at him suddenly. “What?”

  Jax’s soft gaze settled on hers. “She died of a heart attack.”

  “Oh Jackson, I’m so sorry...”

  He fixed his gaze on the back wall and replied, “Yeah. It was a couple of years ago and like your patient, she knew the risks, knew what could happen if she did nothing, but she opted against them. Because she was afraid. More afraid of surgery than death.” He turned to face her and Jennifer’s heart twisted. “Needles and hospitals were never on her most favorites list. Hell, I’m not even sure she believed the doctor when he told her she had to have it done. Healthy her whole life, she barely missed a day of work.” His voice dropped and he looked away. “She thought I was an alarmist.”

  Jennifer didn’t know what to say.

  “She blamed stress. Spent more time in her garden. She called it therapy. What it couldn’t cure, didn’t need curing, she used to say. What would be, would be.”

  He paused and Jennifer thought she detected tears in his eyes. It was all she could do not to wrap an arm around his shoulders. She folded them in her lap instead.

  “I thought it selfish at the time.”

  “Heart disease can be a silent killer, Jax.” She had never used his nickname before, but it just felt right. Straddling the line between professional and personal, she leaned toward him. “Especially for women. For some reason, they tend to put off their health problems. They ignore important warning signs, especially when it comes to their heart.”

  “Probably worrying too much about their families,” Jax said, an edge in his voice. “My father had been battling ulcers at the time and instead of caring for herself, she catered to his every need.”

  “Probably,” Jennifer agreed. “Women have a way of doing that.”

  He turned back to her, setting the palm of his hand to his knee. “You wanna know the worst part? She survived the heart attack, but died two days later in the hospital. The place she most feared. Spent her last forty-eight hours surrounded by strangers.”

  “The damage must have been severe.”

  “Yeah. But it was her choice to wait and she wasn’t the kind of woman you pushed. She did things her way, end of story.”

  “That must have been hard on your father.”

  “Maybe.” He slapped both hands to his thighs and looked at her, his eyes no longer vulnerable. “Look, the point is, there was nothing the doctor could have done to change the outcome. Today you made a difference. You saved a woman’s life. Let that knowledge ease your heart a little.”

  With that he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry.” He pointed toward the open holes of dirt by her bedroom. “But I’ve got to get that done before I leave. Tomorrow we plan to begin the bulk of the planting and Thursday the fountain for out front should be arriving.”

  Jennifer rose in response. Sitting here any longer would only prove awkward. It was clear they had stumbled onto a sore spot for Jax and he didn’t want to talk anymore.

  Which she understood. Not only from a professional perspective, but personal as well. A mother’s illness, death surrounded by strangers. To love someone, yet be powerless to help...

  It was a horrible burden to bear. “Everything is coming along really well,” she offered, wanting to erase the hurt. “I want you to know that I appreciate all your effort, and I’m sorry if I’ve been difficult.” She shoved as much cheer as she could manage behind her smile. “It means a lot.”

  He sighed. “You have nothing to apologize for, Jennifer.”

  Odd she should feel relief, but she did. “Thank you, Jackson,” she said, delivering the words more softly than she had intended.

  “No problem.” He smiled. “Most of my friends call me Jax.”

  Brushing a wayward strand of hair behind an ear, she repeated, “Jax.” Saying his name aloud invoked a smile deeper than she felt comfortable, a mix of nerves and satisfaction mingling in her midsection.

  Jax returned to his spot beneath the pergola and sliding hands into gloves, grabbed his shovel and began to dig.

  Jennifer remained stationary, the humid air clinging to her skin. They had connected, briefly, but the spell was breaking fast. She hadn’t meant to resurrect his grief. He had only been trying to help, but the memory of his mother’s death cut fresh wounds in his eyes, unearthing a hurt as raw as the day it happened.

  Should she offer him some words of condolence? Offer him some relief, like he had done her? But one look at his rigid movements and it was clear: he was finished.

  It wasn’t her place to intrude. He had opened up to her. In his attempt to ease the burden of a difficult day, he had revealed a
part of his past in hopes it would lessen her guilt.

  But it had backfired on him.

  He snapped closed tight as a clam the minute she mentioned his father. Curious. Grabbing her briefcase from her car, Jennifer hurried up her back steps. Letting herself in the house, the cool air was a blast to her senses. She closed the door, her hands remaining encircled around the knob behind her. Filling her lungs with a deep breath, the gesture strained and uncomforting, she blew it out. Sideways through the French door, she peered at his busy figure. His motions seemed to have taken on urgency, his muscles working against the clock.

  He wanted out of here, because of her.

  She mulled over the situation, allowing her gaze to wander his physique. Strong arms and legs, his body cut by hours of hard labor, his skin seemed kissed by the sun. Today, even his hair looked in place. Most likely matted down by sweat, but at least it looked more groomed.

  She smiled at herself. Like what she thought mattered. The woman he was seeing probably fancied the wild hairdo. At the hospital, she had begun to notice the style was actually trendy with the younger generation. Her smile faded. Not that she was old, but at thirty-six she wasn’t a kid anymore. Her tastes had changed, as had her behavior.

  Jennifer turned from the window and made way for the shower. Leave the past alone, she warned herself. Behind you, where it belongs. She thwacked her forehead with tips of her fingers. Move on. Jennifer stopped suddenly as she entered her bedroom. Jax was right outside her window. On second thought, perhaps she needed a bite to eat.

  Reversing direction, she headed toward the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, not feeling an ounce of hunger, then closed the door. Perhaps a glass of red wine would do the trick.

  Relax her mind, soothe her frayed nerves. Normally she would opt for a jog, but with Jax out back, she didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to bother him but didn’t want to leave him.

  Locating a corkscrew, she opened a Malbec and filled a glass half-full. Ambling toward the sofa, one eye glancing through the back window, she settled down onto the sofa. Sweeping one leg across the other, she watched him move in and out of her line of vision. Sipping from her glass, she sank back into the cushions.