Jennifer's Garden

by Dianne Venetta

  The patient’s body leaped from the bed as the first shock was administered. The furious pace of the ECG line swept up, then down, reduced to a flat nothing.

  Seconds passed like years for Jennifer. C’mon, c’mon.

  Ready to shock again, the line spontaneously jumped back to life. “Cath lab ready?” Jennifer asked to no one in particular.

  “Yes, doctor.”

  “Get her prepped.” Jennifer turned in place and came face to face with the ashen expression of Jackson Montgomery. It cut through her heart like a knife to see him so afraid, so desperate. It was obvious he cared deeply.

  She shoved her emotions into a back compartment and slammed the lid closed. This was a patient. He was the closest person to her. She had to move on. “It’s bad. I need to open up her arteries, get some blood flowing into the heart.” Or she will die.

  Frozen, he managed a meek nod of his head.

  The faraway look in his eyes reminded Jennifer of a child. Helpless, powerless, he was completely out of his element. Resisting the urge to stay, and counsel him through the details, she couldn’t. There wasn’t time.

  Tamping down her desire to comfort, ambivalence shooting through her system, she turned back to her team. “Let’s get moving.”

  # # #

  “Use extra tape to secure the dressing,” Jennifer instructed, wanting double precaution against infection—like the kind that killed Jax’s mother. Losing another loved one to post-op infection might throw him over the edge.

  It would her.

  Stepping back, Jennifer allowed room for a nurse to move in and take over breakdown of the sterile environment. Yanking blue paper from posts, the younger woman started talking to the patient. “Ms. Bronson, can you hear me? The procedure’s over.”

  Pulling the gloves from her hands, Jennifer dragged the mask from her face. It was time to talk with the family.

  Or in this case, loved one.

  Jennifer inhaled a chest full of courage, and slowly, purposefully, exhaled her anxiety. It was time to talk with Jax. Pushing through the lab door en route to the waiting room, her stomach cramped into a mass of knots.

  You can do this. She’s just another patient. He’s just another—

  Jax rose from a chair the minute she opened the door. A heavyset man in the corner looked up in unison.

  Jennifer locked eyes with Jax.

  “How is she?”

  Always the first question. “Jax,” she began, her professionalism giving way in one fluid breath of nerves. Who was she kidding?

  This was personal.

  And painful.

  “Is she going to be all right?” It was more plea than question. As if his entire future hung on her answer, and he was afraid it would be wrong. He ventured closer, the movement alien to his usual ease and confidence.

  “Yes.”

  One little word, he visibly crumbled with relief. Apprehension was replaced by joy. So obviously happy, he didn’t try to hide his tears.

  “Thank God...”

  And it broke her heart. Everything she would never have seemed to crystallize before her very eyes. With one moment, the kiss that should never have been, the friendship that moved too far into her heart...

  Tears threatened her façade of cool. Jax would never be hers. He was taken. Unavailable; consumed with the welfare of another.

  “I think she’s going to be fine,” Jennifer said, pressed with a driving need to quell the emotion churning inside. She’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Everyone will be fine. Just fine.

  “Thank you.”

  The raw gratitude in his voice caught in her throat, lodging high and tight. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. They stood in silence, separated by a chasm of loss. Despite the stranger’s presence in the room, she and Jax were alone.

  Her heart teemed with grief. She understood his pain. She could identify with his fear. She could console him—if only they were standing on the same side of suffering.

  But they weren’t. Jax felt miles out of her reach. He was not hers. Never had been she reminded herself, a touch of anger trickling into her heart. It was stupid of her to have believed otherwise.

  Courting chance is a game for fools. The odds stacked against her, she made a ridiculous bet, and lost.

  The house always wins.

  “She’s got a tough road ahead of her, but she’s young and strong and I think she can make it.” She hated that her voice fell short of her usual crisp, competent tone, but these were unusual circumstances.

  She was lucky to get words out at all.

  Jax ran his hands over his hair, flattening the unruly tufts, then dropped them to his hips. “Thank you.” Eyes cast downward, he sighed, his relief palpable. “For everything.” Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he said, “I know this is a difficult time for you. I’m sorry to have bothered you, but you were the only one I knew to call.”

  You don’t know the half of it! she wanted to scream. Eyes burned as tears pushed forward. Not even close.

  But Jennifer refused to let him see her pain. She was a physician. This was her job. There was time enough later to fall apart. “She’ll be in the hospital for a few days, so we can monitor her. She may need an ICD, but we’ll need further evaluation before any decisions are made. I can refer you to an excellent EP. Adjusting her medications may be necessary but other than that, adhering to a proper lifestyle should see her through the next forty years.” And the two of you can live happily-ever-after. Producing a smile, careless to its fragile quality, she was finished here.

  She had met her obligation.

  “Jennifer...”

  He whispered her name like a caress. Intimate, personal, it felt like a balm to her soul. Her pretense quickly began to collapse. She turned to take her leave.

  “Jennifer, wait—"

  She couldn’t. Self-control was disintegrating, fast. Slipping out through the waiting room door, she hurried down the hall, dodging for shelter in the first stairwell.

  Safely behind the steel door, willpower buckled. Sorrow deluged, tears flowed, and her heart broke in two. “Oh God,” she whimpered, closing her eyes. Why is this happening to me?

  “Why me?” She had jeopardized it all and for what? Smacked down by facts, shot down by reality, it couldn’t be any more clear. Jax was in love with someone else.

  Sam was wrong. She was wrong. She gambled her life on a dream and lost. Everything she wanted had been at her fingertips—fiancé, storybook wedding, the final gift to her mother...

  A week ago, she had everything.

  And still would, if Jackson Montgomery had never walked into her life. The sudden image of the blonde popped into her mind. Despite the wires and electrodes, Jennifer could tell she was an attractive woman. Young and beautiful.

  And lucky. Not only had she flirted with death today, might do so again, but she had Jax by her side and that made her lucky indeed. Strong loving arms, a warm affectionate embrace, he would see her through any crisis.

  Jennifer felt an unexpected pang of physical desire. And once healthy, he’d fill her nights with pleasure, her days with adventure. On the high seas, wandering through the islands, discovering new people and places...

  He’d make her life complete.

  A man dashed down the stairs past her, shooting an inquisitive look in her direction, but disappeared through the door in seconds. Startled by the proximity of the stranger, Jennifer tried to collect herself. Swiping hot tears from her cheeks, she willed the flow to cease. She was a doctor, darn it, not some bleary-eyed teenager, devastated by a high school crush. She had things to do. Lives to save.

  She shook her hair, brushed stray strands behind her ears. She had responsibilities.

  Breathing in the stale warm air, filling her lungs until they could take no more, Jennifer released in one long, controlled sigh. She had to get back to her mother.

  Grasping hold of the cold metal railing, she hastened down the stairs, avoiding any possibility of running into Jackson.
Emerging from the stairwell on the first floor, she exited through the first door and felt a small semblance of strength.

  Fresh air, a swallow of water, she would be fine, ready to resume her place alongside her mother. The pager blared from her waistband. Dropping her hand, she unhooked the black device and checked the number. Her heart stopped.

  Her body froze. Flimsy limbs fell to her sides like rubber. It was Fairhaven.

  Spurned by adrenaline, Jennifer forced herself to make the call. A woman answered with a mechanical, “Nurse Benson.”

  “This is Jennifer Hamilton.”

  “Dr. Hamilton. Dr. Carter is standing by to speak with you.”

  Fear and expectation rolled in the pit of her stomach.

  “Dr. Hamilton.”

  “Yes?” She heard the words before he spoke them. “I’m sorry, but your mother passed away a short time ago.”

  The ground gave way beneath her.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Her mother was dead. In a blur of crisis, a few hours spent saving the life of Jackson Montgomery’s lover, Jennifer missed holding the hand of the most important person to her as she passed.

  It was a moment in time she could never retrieve, one she would remember forever. Beatrice Hamilton had died, alone.

  Standing by her bed, numbed to the world outside this room, Jennifer peered at her mother’s motionless body. Much like she had left her this morning, she appeared a woman sleeping, free of concern, free of pain.

  Free of life.

  The first rays of sunlight crept into the room, washing furniture in soft creamy gold. Rather than signal the dawn of a new day, it felt more like an intrusion. An illumination of loss. Jennifer hadn’t been here.

  The only solace she found was that her mother was back in the arms of her greatest love; Dr. Arthur Hamilton. Today they were reunited. It was something.

  Something. Jennifer cupped her mom’s hand. Saddened by the clammy chill to her skin, the finality it denoted, it was so unlike the woman herself; the one who scooped sunshine into a hug, wore stars in her eyes...

  The woman whose smile could light up a room.

  She closed her hand around the one she held and squeezed. But no more. It was over. A mother’s love, a mother’s counsel... They were gone.

  Except in her heart, where she would savor them forever.

  A heavy tear fell from Jennifer’s eye, splattering atop their entwined hands. Beatrice Hamilton, mother to one, inspiration to all, would always remain in her heart.

  Leaning down, she placed a kiss on her mom’s forehead. Lingering, she breathed warmth into the delicate skin. Jennifer drew in her last scent of floral perfume, the one she dabbed on her mother’s temples last evening.

  Goodbye. I’ll see you... We’ll meet each other again.

  Pulling herself back to a standing position, Jennifer heard the familiar whisper. Live, darling. Move on with your life.

  The advice wrenched her face with pain. She knew it was the right thing to do. She knew there was no other choice.

  Soft as an angel, firm as a chief, her mother would always watch over her. Love, darling. Live. Be happy.

  Jennifer nodded, tears streaming. Yes, she would try.

  The living she could manage. But the happiness...

  It would take some time.

  # # #

  Thankful she had someplace to go, something to do, Jennifer scanned the charts lined in a row behind the nurses’ desk. Jumping back into work made sense for her. Gave her purpose.

  “Is this the chart you’re looking for Dr. Hamilton?”

  Jennifer eyed the name marked on the binder spine as the nurse neared. “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Sorry,” she said with an awkward smile. “Someone left it by the monitors.”

  “No problem.” Taking the chart from the thin brunette, she carried it around to a vacant spot on the counter. Flipping it open, she zeroed in on the progress notes, quickly scanning through them. Dizzy spells, shortness of breath. She examined the attached copy of the Holter monitor. Documented episodes of ventricular arrhythmia. Jennifer ran through the list of his medications, making mental notes to vary dosages.

  Work. Helping people—at least those she could—would see her through. It would also help distract her thoughts from Jax.

  She wondered if she’d see him, today. Part of her wanted to, part of her didn’t. Part of her knew it was inevitable.

  Replacing the chart into the shelf file, she pulled the next one free. Part of her wanted to forget.

  “Dr. Hamilton?”

  Jennifer looked up from the chart. Standing beside her was a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman, with deep brown skin and jet black hair. He was a complete stranger to her, yet called her by name. A fellow physician, perhaps?

  “Yes, I’m Dr. Hamilton.”

  His features relaxed into a smile. “I wanted to thank you for saving my wife’s life.”

  “I’m sorry?” Jennifer allowed the chart to close on her hand.

  “I was told you’re the doctor responsible for her care. And that it was your expertise and quick actions that made the difference in her survival.”

  “I apologize,” she said, drawing a complete blank—unusual for her, but under the circumstances, feasible. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

  “Bronson.”

  The name exploded through her conscious.

  “Delaney Bronson. The young woman from this weekend. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  She balked. “Did you say she was your wife?”

  “Yes.” He extended a hand. “I’m Pete Bronson.”

  “Why was Jax with her?”

  With the queerest look in his eye, he ventured, “Um, because he’s her brother?”

  “Her brother?”

  The man nodded, his expression one of mild embarrassment. He dropped his hand and placed it in a pocket. “Yes. I was out in California when she wasn’t feeling well. The family has a history of heart problems, so she knew not to waste time when it became severe. She called him first thing. I jumped on the next flight out and arrived late last night.”

  “Oh my God...” She dropped her gaze to the chart in hand, the past twenty-four hours thrusting her mind back through time.

  The frantic desperation she had witnessed in his eyes—the panic—it was his sister. Realization swallowed her whole. It made perfect sense. He must have been beside himself with fear.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She looked up to find Pete Bronson’s face filled with concern. “No, I only...” she stumbled through her response, suppressing the urge to sit down, to run. The woman wasn’t with Jax—she was this man’s wife! Where she should have felt jubilation, she only felt sick.

  Did that mean he was available?

  He peered at her in expectation, shifting the gears of professionalism for her. “She was smart to have called him when she did.”

  “Yes, very.”

  “And you. Jax says you saved her life.”

  Her backpedal was swift. “Well... I didn’t do anything any other competent physician wouldn’t have done. It was the paramedics on the scene who really made the difference.”

  The man nodded. “He said you were modest.” Then he smiled. “And that you were the best.”

  Embarrassment rose hot to her cheeks. Jennifer instinctively dodged his gaze, knowing full well her feelings would be splayed across her face. These were feelings she couldn’t deny, emotions she couldn’t conceal.

  He grew serious and extended his hand again. “Thank you.”

  Taking his hand this time, she wondered at the close of his around hers, drawing her closer with a familiarity he should not feel. “I don’t know what I would do without her. What we would do. We have four kids.”

  Doctors crowded near, phones rang. It was business as usual at the nurse’s station. Business as usual—for everyone except her. It was all she could do not to hammer the man for information, but yes—she recalled som
ething about children.

  Jax had his fill with his sister’s kids.

  They must have been scared out of their wits to see their mother sent away in an ambulance! If Jax hadn’t been there, if she hadn’t called him in time...

  The image of his sister dead on the floor with children as her witness scored a jagged gash through her heart. The family would be devastated. Thank God, Jax had been there. “I understand,” she said, desperate to regain a more professional demeanor. She was the doctor here, not a family friend. She had to maintain perspective, control. “How’s she feeling today?”

  He laughed. “Like nothing ever happened. She’s chomping at the bit to get back home, but I told her that wasn’t a good idea. Besides, she should stay here where she can be waited on. It’ll only be chaos after calamity at home.”

  “I bet that’s all she wants right now,” Jennifer said, a strange wistfulness taking hold.

  “You’re right.” A fondness entered his eyes. “You must have kids of your own.”

  “No,” she said, her voice quiet. “I don’t.”

  “Well, you have a keen sense of my wife. She can’t wait to get home. Hospitals have never been one of her favorite places.”

  “No.” Jennifer was sure they weren’t. Didn’t Jax say the same of their mother? “But if she progresses as expected, she should be able to head home tomorrow.”

  “The doctor who stopped by this morning said as much. Nice guy,” he said, a hint of question hovering in his tone as to why it hadn’t been her checking in on his wife. “Delaney’s already pressuring him for sooner rather than later.”

  Jennifer tried to smile. Her delegating responsibility for this particular patient to her partner was something this man couldn’t have known. “Her cardiologist contacted me. He wants to keep her in to run some other tests—on account of her history, of course.” She hated to raise any more flags for the family, but her physician wasn’t doing anything she wouldn’t do faced with the same situation. “I’ll talk to him and see what we can do.”

  He grinned. “Thanks. We’d appreciate it.”