Jennifer's Garden

by Dianne Venetta

“C’mon.” She walked over and tapped her on the back. “You’re coming with me.”

  “No,” she replied without thinking.

  “Yes. You need a break and you need to eat.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not, and you’re coming with me.”

  “Sam...” But when she glanced up, the feeble dissent was easily overcome. Sam wasn’t taking no for an answer. Gently hoisted up by the arm, she allowed Sam a victory.

  “You bought too much food, Sam.”

  “A meager start to replenish a certain bag of bones I know.”

  “I am nowhere near a bag of bones.” Jennifer pinched her side through the light cotton tank. “See? Plenty of fat to hold me through the winter.”

  Showered and dressed in tank and boxers, she felt ages better, and privately thanked Sam for pushing. Her mother wouldn’t want her to spend the rest of her life waiting for her life to end. She had to focus on moving ahead with her own.

  A concept she was still getting used to.

  “Lucky for you winter is months away, or you’d freeze into a pile of icicles. Look at you,” she stuck out her hand. “Your legs look like toothpicks sticking out of those shorts!” Sam turned serious. “Which is why you’re going to put a dent in this feast. If you won’t, be forewarned. It won’t be pretty when I start shoveling it down your throat.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “You never were the reasonable type.” She poked her nose over the edge of the bag and asked, “What do you have in there, anyway?”

  “Arroz con pollo, frijoles negros, plantanos maduros y tu postre favorito. Flan.”

  Jennifer was impressed. “Your Spanish is improving.”

  “Pesky new South American paralegal at the office—an unbelievably sexy new hire while I was away in Ohio.”

  She chuckled. “That would explain it.”

  Sam stopped. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “You know for what—Aurelio. Considering the circumstances, I don’t need to be reminding you of South American men.”

  She waved off the mention. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Come here.” Sam pulled Jennifer into a bear hug.

  No resistance, she slid both arms around Sam’s waist, and relaxed into the embrace. There was no changing Sam. Men would remain first, last and everywhere in between on her list and it was okay. But aside from facts, truthfully...

  The mention of Aurelio hadn’t bothered her. He felt like a distant memory—as unfair as that may be—one without the power to hurt. Where she should feel sad, she didn’t. She felt indifferent. Unfortunate.

  Jennifer pulled away. “Let’s eat.”

  Playing hostess in her home away from home, Sam retrieved plates from the cabinet, silverware from the drawers. “Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

  “That would be great.”

  Watching as Sam poured the wine and set the table, Jennifer realized how much she needed her ready ear. Sam would listen all night, if that’s what it took. A gurgle of confession bubbled inside her. And she deserved to know everything.

  Strolling closer, a zing of anticipation zipped across her abdomen. “You’ll never guess what happened between Jax and me.” Jennifer smiled. The look on Sam’s face was priceless.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “So, we’re back to square one.”

  Wedged into the corner between two large cushions, legs crossed Indian-style, Jennifer allowed the Latin instrumental to caress her senses with its gentle play of guitar and soft chimes of percussion. “How do you figure?”

  “It seems to me, there is no other woman. Jax wants you.”

  “Are we engaging in wishful thinking now?”

  “Not me, pumpkin pie. I engage in nothing shy of hard-core reality, you know that.”

  “Perhaps you’ve had a wee bit too much wine,” Jennifer said, her own glass near empty. But it was working. The sharp edge of her mind had dulled. She wasn’t crying, her heart didn’t ache. It was exactly the relief she needed.

  “I can handle my liquor, thank you very much,” yet her tone implied, perhaps someone else in the room could not. “This is a simple analysis of the male species, 101—a subject in which I happen to score off the charts.” She grinned with a wink. “And I’m telling you, the man is interested. While there may have been someone else,” she raised a brow, “though I’m not entirely convinced there was, there is no more. It’s like I said—“

  “I know,” Jennifer cut her off. “You read people for a living.”

  She smiled. “You’re damn right and I’m damn good at it and I’m telling you what I saw transpire between the two of you that day. There was an electrically charged cord connecting you at the hip! You guys were popping like fat on bacon, working up an appetite for some sizzling sex.”

  Jennifer shook her head and sighed. “Where do you come up with these analogies?”

  Pleased with herself, she flashed a grin. “I have an active imagination.” Then erased it in an instant. “But it doesn’t change the facts.”

  “Highly colors them?”

  “You know what your problem is?”

  A soft laugh escaped as she replied, “No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

  “You want Jax. More than you’re willing to let on, even with me, you want him. Admit it. Despite he represents the opposite of everything you thought you wanted, you want him.”

  Jennifer’s eyes stilled.

  Steadying her aim, Sam went straight for the heart. “But you keep it hidden, because a relationship with him scares the hell out of you.”

  Dick Tracy.

  “His bank account isn’t stocked with six figures. Not a degree to his name, he works social functions—not attends them. Jeans and beer over suits and champagne, he gets his hands dirty, his brow sweaty. He’s a laborer. A working stiff.”

  Her voice wasn’t accusatory, but pointed. And Jennifer felt the cut.

  “I’ll bet part of you thinks he’s not good enough while the other knows he’s the best damn thing that’s ever walked into your life.”

  Jennifer couldn’t utter a word in protest.

  It was all true. Except, Sam neglected to mention the qualities that made Jax so special.

  The ones that lay beneath the surface...

  Her mother’s words drifted to the forefront of her mind. Her mom knew the qualities. Witnessed them firsthand, packaged, painted and delivered in the form of one exquisite birdhouse.

  “You have me, counselor. On all counts.” Sudden need clawed at her. Tears welled in her eyes. Hook, line and sinker, she was caught. “Now what do I do about it?”

  “You go after him.”

  Jennifer mildly flinched. It sounded so forward, so Sam.

  And so unlike herself. “I will not chase him. I wouldn’t intrude on his life like that.”

  “Intrude? Are you kidding me?”

  It did sound silly, but she didn’t go after men. She didn’t seek them out and hound them for a date. Men asked her. If Jax was truly interested, as Sam suggested, he would ask her on a date not the other way around. Save for one small detail.

  He still thinks she’s engaged to be married.

  “Jen. You have the man at your fingertips. All you have to do is curl one hither and he will jump. Believe me. He will come running.”

  Jennifer chuckled at the image, causing a tear to spill forward, hot on the flush of her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine him jumping for any woman, let alone herself.

  “It’s simple, Jen. You open the door. Invite him in.”

  Simple. Her pulse picked up. Until she imagined actually doing it.

  “You want me to call him?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Heaven only knows what Sam would say to the man. She shuddered. “I can handle this on my own, thank you.” She glanced at Sam. “Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sam?”

  “What? I said sure, didn’t I?”

  “You didn’t say yes
.”

  Sam shrugged. “Same thing.”

  “Not in a court of law, it’s not. Do I need to have you swear under oath?”

  “Nah.” She waved her off and took a sip from her wine.

  Jennifer kept a wary eye on her friend as she considered the situation. She did want Jax. She could admit that much. And she did want to try—but how? How did she move their relationship from professional to personal? How did she inquire about his current state of affairs?

  Could she really push herself into his life? Going after the man was one thing, losing her dignity in the process was something else. “Jax’s so far out of my league. His future, his goals... They’re completely opposite to mine.”

  “They don’t have to be. Those are details. You work them out when the time comes. Right now, you need to focus on coming together. The rest will happen...naturally.”

  A sudden sweep of nerves flew through her. “That’s easy for you to say—you run through men like a delinquent school boy runs through spit-balls!”

  “Whoa, save the personal attacks for divorce court. I’m trying to help out over here. Like the Calvary, you know?” She thumped her chest. “I’m one of the good guys, remember?”

  Jennifer corked her attitude. “I’m sorry.” Sam wasn’t the enemy—wishful thinking was. “But darn it, Sam, I don’t want to sit here and convince myself this is feasible when it’s not. I’ve had my fill of heartache. The last thing I want is to add a breakup with Jax to the mix!”

  “No risk, no reward.”

  “One in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “My mother’s gone, Sam.” She frowned, ambivalence tearing through her. For all intents and purposes, anyway. “I want to grieve the loss and move on. I need to find peace of mind, some equilibrium. If I try for Jax and fail...” Jennifer shook her head, ignoring the loose bangs falling across her face. “I’ll only compound the pain.”

  “It doesn’t have to fail. You two can make a great team.”

  “Like Oscar and Felix or Clyde and Costello...”

  “You’re being negative.”

  “Realistic,” she defended, but evaded Sam’s disapproval with the close of her eyes. A great team. Partners. Could she really envision a future with him?

  Did they have enough in common? Did they have similar values? Did they want the same things out of life?

  “Don’t give up, Jen. It’s not what your mom would have wanted. She understood life is worth living. It’s at least worth a try.”

  Fidgeting with the stem of her glass, Jennifer struggled against the onslaught of emotion. It was exactly what her mother wanted. She wanted her to find happiness. She wanted her to know true love.

  Beatrice Hamilton understood that sometimes, true love defied convention, yet survived the odds. True love prevailed.

  “Are you afraid he’ll turn you down?”

  “It’s a possibility,” she said, a quiver stealing into her voice.

  “So is the part where he says yes, and takes you into his arms, makes mad passionate love to you.”

  Vivid images from her dream came flooding back, mixing with memories of their real-life kiss. Powerful yearning pulled. That was her greatest hope, her greatest desire. Evading Sam’s heated knowing gaze, Jennifer glanced away.

  More than she had ever wanted it before, more than she could believe it herself, she wanted to be held in his arms again and finish that kiss—all the way to physical completion.

  She wanted Jackson Montgomery mentally, emotionally and physically. But could it really happen?

  Apprehension, excitement, fear and naked desire skirted through her making a total mess of her insides. More than a dream come true, it would be the best of all possible worlds.

  Jennifer’s beeper pierced the quiet of early morning. Stationed by her mother’s side, she grabbed the pager from her waistband. Heart pounding, she pressed the green button. The number displayed.

  It was the service. Catching her breath, she reoriented to her location. Why were they calling her? She peered at her mother. Undisturbed, she lay peaceful; a lifeless remnant trapped in placid suffering.

  Her eyes dropped to the pager in hand. She needed to inform them the pages had come to her in error. She heaved a sigh. Now.

  It might be important.

  Jennifer covered her mother’s hand with her own and gave a light squeeze. This would only take a minute. She’d be right back. Rising abruptly, she grabbed her cell phone and headed out into the hallway for privacy.

  The sudden realization hit. Privacy from comatose? There was no need. Jennifer swallowed the bitter dose of reality and dialed the number. Her mother’s life shouldn’t end this way; dragging through the days, oblivious to those around her. It felt more insult than blessing.

  An operator answered on the second ring. “This is Dr. Hamilton. You paged me, but I’m off call. You need to send it to one of my partners.”

  “I’m sorry Dr. Hamilton,” came the polite reply, “but we were asked by your office to page you specifically.”

  “Me?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What for?”

  “There’s an emergency at Baptist Hospital. The E.R. asked to page you, stat.”

  “Who told you to call me with this?”

  “Dr. Miller.”

  Why would he do that? she wondered almost aloud. Senior partner, he knew where she was. There must be a reason. A good one. “Okay,” she said, not bothering to disguise her fatigue. “Give me the number.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The operator rattled it off and Jennifer dialed.

  “E.R.”

  “This is Dr. Hamilton. You paged me?”

  “Yes, Dr. Hamilton. We have a patient of yours on the way to the E.R., as we speak. Cardiac arrest. The family has requested you be notified.”

  “Who?”

  “Bronson.”

  It didn’t sound familiar. Normally a rolodex of memory, her mind couldn’t locate this one. She glanced around the quiet corridor, moving aside as a gentleman wheeled a cart filled with the first round of breakfast trays. He acknowledged her with a silent nod.

  “Are you sure they’re asking for me?”

  “Positive. The guy is adamant. He wants no one touching her, but you. And the situation is acute. It sounds like she needs immediate intervention.”

  She hesitated, but only for a minute. “Page Dr. Miller for me. Tell him I’m on my way.”

  Grabbing her purse from her mother’s bedside, she placed a soft kiss on her forehead and whispered goodbye. “I love you.” Lingering only a second or two, Jennifer hurried out of the room.

  On her way out of Fairhaven, she informed the nursing staff of her plans and how to reach her, should anything change.

  Driving to the hospital, she called the hospital and gathered information. Bronson was a young woman, late thirties, with a family history of cardiac arrest.

  It was a classic story. Jennifer heard risk factor, near sudden death, time was of the essence. Next, she called the cath lab and placed them on notice.

  Mind whirring at high speed as she plowed through a side entrance, she ran through potential complications; how much damage was done to the heart, cardiogenic shock, arrhythmias, the amount of underlying heart disease, calcification...

  Hustling down a wide corridor, she pushed through double doors leading to the emergency room. The collision jarred them both. Jennifer gaped in disbelief. “Jackson! What are you doing here?”

  Stark fear scored ridges deep into brown eyes, his expression shocked blank.

  “Jax?” When he didn’t utter a word, she hesitated, but only for a second. Professionalism kicked in, launching her body into action. There was no time to waste. She shoved her personal affairs aside and hurried into the emergency room.

  It wasn’t until she realized he was following at her heel that it made sense. Stopping at the edge of the bed, she whirled around. “She’s with you?”

 
; Jax nodded. A look of pure desperation poured from his eyes.

  His response knocked the wind from her chest. It explained the page. Glancing back to the attractive blonde with a tube stuck down her throat, a blood pressure cuff pumping to life on her upper arm, it was clear she was in serious trouble.

  And just as clear she was with Jax.

  “Pressure’s 130 over 90. Rate’s a hundred and fifteen.”

  Jennifer grappled for reason. How could this be? With her mother in a coma, her engagement in ruins, Jax’s dying girlfriend shows up at the hospital and she’s supposed to save her?

  She scanned the faces around the bed. Was this a bad dream? A cruel joke?

  She snapped back to the situation at hand. Enough. No more dreams, no more fantasy. This was her life. “Talk to me. What have we got?”

  “Thirty-six year old Caucasian female called 911 approximately seven a.m.,” the attending paramedic reeled off. “She complained of a burning sensation in the abdomen. Patient took two aspirin and experienced loss of consciousness before we arrived on scene at seven fourteen. CPR performed immediately, but no pulse—patient shocked at 200 joules for successful defibrillation, then intubated. IV access secured with one dose of Epi, administered on scene before stabilized and transported. Non-smoker, no previous MI, family history of high cholesterol. Father still living. Mother deceased; cardiac arrest. Current medications; 40mg Atorvastatin, 81mg aspirin. No known allergies.”

  “V-tach!”

  “Pressure’s dropping,” barked another nurse. “Hundred over eighty-five!”

  A frantic bleeping blasted from the monitor.

  Jennifer registered the information. This was definitely not a dream. This was real. This was bad. And she was expected to fix it.

  “She’s coding!”

  Jennifer shut Jax out of her mind and clicked into rescue mode. She had to focus every cell of her attention on this woman if she was going to save her life. “Defib!” she commanded.

  Nurses flew around the patient, pulled handles from a machine and called back, “Defib’s charged.”

  “Stand back.”

  Everyone moved as paddles were slapped to the woman’s sides. “Clear!”