by JoAnn Durgin
“You got it,” he said, starting back into his office. “Trust me, Serenity will appreciate the sentiment.”
“Ah,” Audra said, “I knew you were more than book smart, Dr. Ross. You understand what goes on in a woman’s heart, and that’s what makes you such a good doctor. And a romantic suitor.” Even though they hadn’t worked together long, Jackson adored this woman. Sure, she flattered him, but it was about more than inflating his ego. Audra was a straight shooter and told it like it is. If he ever stepped over the line, she’d be sure and tell him. Plus, how could he resist a woman who used the word suitor?
“I’m not sure how Gina will reconcile this on the books, but I’m sure she’ll think of something.”
“Tell you what,” Jackson said, “buy something to justify the gift wrapping. When’s your birthday?”
“July,” she said, “but you don’t—”
“Then call it an early happy birthday gift. Does the store offer delivery?”
Audra nodded. “The young man who works at the print shop next door makes deliveries during his breaks.”
Thanking her, Jackson pulled out his wallet and handed her another twenty, but she waved his hand aside. “Please stop throwing your money around. It’s only a few steps from the store to Serenity’s office, and I’m sure he can handle it. Don’t you worry. I’ll give him a real nice tip.”
“Call it an investment,” he said, opening her palm and placing the money inside, curling her fingers around it. “Make sure the guy gets a really good tip for taking it as soon as it’s ready.”
“I’m only taking your money because you insist,” Audra said, tucking the money into her purse.
Jackson regretted he wouldn’t see Serenity’s reaction when she opened the box. Thinking of it made him smile. Although not exactly sure of his intent with the invitation to meet her on the beach on Friday morning, the one thing he could tell her was Elise McClaren’s last known address. That would confirm her mother might be alive but couldn’t provide any guarantees. Otherwise, he’d wing it, enjoy Serenity’s company and pray she wouldn’t suspect anything.
As it was, during his last session of the day, he’d barely paid attention. It wasn’t fair to his patient, but he couldn’t help himself. The child had prattled on about something that wasn’t going to scar him for life, and Jackson managed to ask questions when appropriate. A natural chatterbox, the patient was content to talk without being prompted. At least his comments and recommendations at the conclusion of the session seemed to please the boy’s mother, and he was grateful for the presence of mind to jot down notes early in the session.
Turning to his computer, he typed in CroisetteShoresDailyNews.com and clicked the mouse on the tab for “Births and Deaths.” Only a few recent announcements. When he clicked on the Archives tab on the far right of the website, it only listed births within the last couple of years, both in Croisette Shores and the surrounding communities as well as a few out-of-state births with local connections. With a frown, Jackson checked the obituaries, pleased to see the records dated back as far as six years. Sitting up straighter in the chair, he input what information he knew, starting with the bare minimum. Closing his eyes, he whispered a quick prayer. Nothing. He tried again, adding more information, knowing it was probably useless. Nothing. Listing a broader date range, he tried again. Still nothing. Next he searched for the last name “Kincaid” and then finally for “McClaren.”
Sweat broke out on his brow and he typed harder and faster. As a last resort, Jackson attempted to search the birth records from five years ago. A message popped up saying notices published five years ago were not accessible via the website and to go to the library or check with the Vital Statistics Office. “Been there, done that,” he grumbled under his breath. But Justin’s—Liam’s—records must somehow be “stuck” in cyberspace limbo.
“This makes no sense!” Exasperated, Jackson collapsed back in his chair and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. How could a child be born and then die with no evidence whatsoever in the public record? Were there rules against publishing such things for some unknown reason? He’d need to make a trip to the library.
Danny. If he couldn’t find anything about Liam, surely he could find news about a murder in this little town. That would have been huge news five years ago in Croisette Shores. Sitting up, he clicked the mouse to search under the “Archives” tab. “Give me something to go on,” he muttered. After typing in “Daniel Kincaid Murder” in the search box—repeating it three times because his fingers shook and he mistyped—Jackson sat back again, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms, his heart racing as he waited.
As he suspected, he generated a lot of hits with those keywords for his search. Quickly perusing the list, Jackson chose one at random. Clicking on the article, he waited a few seconds, nearly jumping with the frustration of it all. He didn’t know what he expected, but he knew he was on the verge of discovery. But of what? Leaning forward, he tapped his fingers on the desk.
The website was unbelievably slow, but finally the article started to pop up on the screen, section by section. Jackson strained to see the photograph appearing on the screen, scrolling from the top down to the bottom. Staring out at him from the computer screen was a photo of Daniel Kincaid. Jackson’s jaw gaped.
Same dark, curly hair. Same dimples. Same smile. Same...everything.
The same face as Justin.
The same face as Liam.
“He’s alive, Serenity. Your son is alive!” Dropping his head to his hands, Jackson wept.
“Come in.” Working on the estimate for the Cartwright project, Serenity looked up when Kelsie grunted. Her assistant stood in the doorway, holding a medium-sized, square package. Wrapped in shiny, pale blue paper with pastel silk flowers and curling ribbon cascading down its sides, it was exquisite. “What’s that?”
“You tell me. It was hand-delivered a few minutes ago.” Kelsie held it up, turning and eyeing it from all angles. “Hope you don’t mind, but I shook it. Doesn’t sound breakable. No rattle, no roll, nothing.” She laughed when Serenity raised a brow. “My dad got my mom something from Tiffany & Co. once and she freaked. In a good way, though. It was wrapped in paper just like this but without all the fancy froufrou.”
“I’m sure it’s not from Tiffany’s, but it is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Serenity pushed away from her desk and smiled when Kelsie bowed low, as though presenting the gift to a queen. “Thank you, my subject. Your loyalty will not go unrewarded,” she said as Kelsie made a big show of presenting it to her. Light as air. “I’d hate to destroy this lovely work of art if there’s nothing inside, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Who delivered it? Was there a card, a note, anything?”
“Kenny from the print shop a few doors down brought it. He delivers stuff from stores all over town for tips when he’s on his break. No card, but he said it was for Princess Serenity, thus the reason for my bow. You know, if it didn’t sound totally lame, I’d say you have a secret admirer.” Kelsie’s eyes grew rounder. “Hey, maybe it’s from that mysterious guy who came in the other day.”
Serenity frowned. “He didn’t come back, did he? You promised to tell me if he did.”
“No, he didn’t. And I keep my promises.”
“Didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” Serenity said, putting the box on her desk.
“I sure hope you’re going to let me watch you open it because the suspense is killing me.” Reaching for it, Kelsie laughed when Serenity put a hand on her arm.
“I’ll do it, thank you.” Lifting the edges on one side, she repeated the same on the other side and slid the box out of the wrapping easily enough. It brought to mind Christmas mornings with Mama beaming and Dad snapping photos as she tore into her presents beneath the gaudy, over-decorated tree in the family room. This gift was wrapped much too pretty to destroy it.
Kelsie hunched forward in her eagerness to see as Serenity lifted the lid of the plain white box. No store name was emblazoned on the top wh
ich made it all the more curious. Digging through mounds of white tissue paper, Serenity’s breath hitched and she cried out with delighted surprise when she glimpsed something hot pink and plastic. With something attached to the side.
As Serenity pulled the sand pail from its nest, Kelsie’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why would someone give you a present wrapped like it’s for a queen and then put that in it?” She stopped after Serenity shot her a look. “Okay, I get it. For reasons I’ll never understand, this so-called gift really means something to you.”
“Believe it or not, Kelsie, this is one of the most precious gifts I’ve ever received. Thanks for bringing it to me.” Serenity couldn’t stop smiling.
“Please tell me it came from Jackson. That man’s your prince, I hope you know.”
Momentarily unable to speak, Serenity nodded. Oh, yes, she knew. With a dramatic sigh, Kelsie departed the office, shaking her head. Waiting until she was out of the room, Serenity pulled out the envelope embossed with the initials JDR tucked inside the sand pail. Returning to her chair, she read the card several times. And then again. Moving her hand over her heart, she breathed a sigh borne of...what, exactly? Hope for the future perhaps and the idea that she might one day regain that elusive peace in her life. Nothing could replace the pain of the past, but Jackson’s spontaneity and enthusiasm for life was having a profound effect on her. Every gesture, everything he did, showed a caring and sensitivity beyond anything she’d ever known in another man. Not just for her, either, but for everyone. Well, perhaps a little more for her than others.
“Lord, you knew I needed someone like Jackson Ross in my life, didn’t You?” Feeling silly, she smiled. Of course, He did. That’s what sovereignty was all about. The Lord could see the ugly parts inside her as well as the not-so-ugly parts. Although that used to make her worry, now it gave her an incredible comfort to think He could take her insecurities and help her face those fears to make her stronger. As far as Jackson, she didn’t simply need someone like Jackson in her life. She needed Jackson.
Her gaze fell on the card once more:
Princess Serenity,
Meet me at the beach tomorrow morning.
Eleven a.m. Bring yourself and the
sand pail. I’ll bring the rest.
Your Humble Servant,
Jackson
~CHAPTER 34~
Sitting on the beach on Friday morning, Jackson’s pulse was erratic and he was antsier than ever before in his life. More nervous than he’d been before taking his board certification exams. More nervous than when he’d asked Laura to marry him. Thankful the first worked out, grateful the second didn’t, Jackson jumped to his feet and paced the beach, darting glances at his watch every other minute. At ten minutes after eleven, he figured Serenity would have called if she couldn’t make it. The woman prided herself on punctuality.
Stopping, he moved his hands to his hips. Neither were Violet Johnson and Justin anywhere in sight on this stretch of beach. Jackson assumed they might come here since Serenity said it’s where her parents always used to bring her, but they could have gone to another beach. If any of the information she’d given him on the new patient forms was true—something he was beginning to question—they were staying at an address the next town over to the east.
Another twenty minutes later, Jackson could stand it no longer. After dialing her number, he sat back and waited, listening as it rang a few times before he heard her voice asking him to leave a message.
“Serenity, it’s Jackson,” he said, trying to maintain calm in spite of his increasing concern. “I’m checking in since I’d hoped to meet you at the beach this morning.” Was it possible the gift hadn’t been delivered yesterday? Surely Audra would have told him if there’d been a problem. No, come to think of it, Audra left him a message telling him it was delivered to Kelsie at Serenity’s office and she’d said she’d give it to her right away. And she also mentioned how beautiful the package looked.
Signing off after asking her to call him, he pondered his options. He could call Clinton, Charlie or Kelsie. He opted for the latter, hoping she’d be in the office on a Friday morning.
“Inner Serenity. This is Kelsie.”
“Hey, Kels. It’s me, Doc Jack. How are you?”
“Great, Doc! Hope you’re out squiring my boss somewhere on this lovely summer morning.”
He chuckled in spite of his apprehension. Kelsie could always make him smile. “Matter of fact, that’s why I’m calling. I sent her something yesterday with a note in it, asking her to meet me this morning at eleven, but she hasn’t come yet. I thought she was delayed at the office or something.”
“Well, your gift came and Serenity loved it. You should have seen the smile on her face.”
“Glad to hear she liked it.”
“Oh, that was before she opened the box. After she opened it, I could tell she was touched. Whatever that little plastic sand bucket represents to her, you nailed it. You know what I mean.”
“I do. Thanks, Kelsie. If you see her, would you please have her call me?”
“Sure thing, Doc.”
Jackson pulled his sunglasses from the glove compartment and positioned them. On the short drive to Serenity’s house, he coached himself. Surely Serenity was fine. She could have overslept or gotten involved with something and lost track of the time. The fact she hadn’t been to her office or even called Kelsie seemed odd and out of character. This whole business about possibly being followed lingered in the back of his mind and he couldn’t shake it.
Lord, let Serenity be okay.
Less than three minutes later, he pulled up in front of Serenity’s small house, feeling ridiculous for not walking. Hauling out of the car, he spied Mrs. Marciano working in her yard. She turned and waved. “Howdy, Doc!”
Jackson nodded and smiled. “How are you, Mrs. Marciano? And Mr. Darcy?” he said when he spied the cat sitting on the lawn with a sleepy-eyed stare trained on him.
“We’re doing fine. Enjoying this beautiful morning before it gets too hot.” She gave him a saucy smile. “I take it you’ve come to see my pretty young neighbor?” Her gaze slid to the Aston Martin. “Nice wheels, by the way. I knew right away how much you liked Miss Serenity seeing as how you gave her the keys to drive me home from the church picnic. Don’t know many men who’d give up the rights to their car, especially one that’s worth a pretty penny. Isn’t this one of those James Bond cars or something?”
He grinned straight through his nerves. “Mr. Bond squired around in an Aston Martin in a few of his movies. It’s a lot of fun and my one concession to excess.” He chuckled. “Make that extreme excess.”
Mrs. Marciano laughed. “Everyone’s entitled. Question is, did you get it as a personal reward or to impress someone?”
Smart woman. “Would you believe both?”
She hitched her chin and met his gaze, brushing short strands of gray hair away from a thin face lined with wisdom. “The reward?”
“For getting my doctorate. Believe it or not, I wasn’t trying to impress a woman.”
“Then it’s more you had something to prove to yourself or someone else. Am I right?”
“You’re too wise for me,” Jackson said, his smile resurfacing. “I think I’m the one talking to the psychologist.”
“Wanna talk about it, Doc?” She slid one hand to her hip.
“Sure. Hop in the ejector seat right here and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The older woman laughed so loud Serenity probably heard her from inside the house. Darting a glance at the front door, he wondered if she might appear.
“I’ll see you again soon, I hope, Mrs. Marciano.”
“Hope so, too, Doc.”
He started up the front walkway beneath the shade of the lovely, large tree with reddish-colored flowers. Inhaling a quick breath, his smile sobered. Standing outside the door, he paused with his fist poised, ready to knock. For whatever reason, he was relieved to s
ee Mrs. Marciano go inside her house with Mr. Darcy. In case he needed to break down Serenity’s door, he didn’t particularly want an audience.
“Go away!” The pounding on the door matched the relentless pounding in her head.
“I’m not going anywhere until you come to the door and I can see you for myself!”
A loud groan escaped as Serenity rolled over in the bed. Why couldn’t Jackson let her wallow in her misery for once? Wasn’t a person allowed down time every now and then? Sometimes she wished she could be a little girl again. Grab her blankie or her teddy bear and crawl into her bed, curl into a ball, stick her thumb in her mouth and go to sleep without a care in the world.
“Serenity McClaren, I’m ready to break this door down, and I don’t think you want that!” The pounding continued, and she cringed. Was that a cracking sound? Would the man really do that?
“Okay, okay. Hang on.” Dragging herself from the bed and hurrying down the hallway, she crossed the living room as the pounding continued. “I’m coming!” she called, throwing open the door before he had the chance to totally obliterate it.
“About time.” Jackson swooped through the doorway and she was in his embrace before she had time to think, time to breathe.
“Nice to see you, too,” she mumbled against his chest, feeling like an idiot by burying her face in his black T-shirt. It smelled like Jackson mixed with laundry detergent, and the combination was better than nice.
“You didn’t show up at the beach this morning, you didn’t answer your phone, and Kelsie didn’t know where you were.” He crushed her against his hard chest.
“Jackson,” she sputtered, gasping, “you’re going to suffocate me.” The man didn’t know his own strength.
“Sorry,” he said, releasing her. Pulling back, he held onto her arms, gentle but firm, his eyes searching her face. “Tell me what’s going on.” Bless his heart, he really was worried about her, and guilt pinched her insides. “Has something happened?” The corners of his mouth tugged down. “No offense, but you look pretty ragged.”