Jennifer's Garden

by Dianne Venetta

  She savored the first swallow as it exploded across her tongue, swishing down her throat with an earthy blackberry plum finish. “Hmmm...” Usually a fan of the full-bodied Cabernet, she discovered this particular vintage while dining in a South American restaurant. Sam had suggested the place and from wine to food, it had been an evening to remember.

  Sam. She’d have to call her. The two hadn’t spoken since Aurelio’s opening and they needed to. The episode had to be addressed. Jennifer took another sip, relishing the bite of pepper mixing with the fruits as it passed over her taste buds, she worked to empty her mind of tension. But she didn’t have to think about it right now.

  Sipping again, her thoughts wandered back to Jackson. Jax, she corrected with a smile. After all, they were friends now.

  Uncrossing her legs, she set them on the sofa table. She glanced at the stereo clock. Five-thirty and he was still hard at work. She looked outside and caught sight of him dumping a bag of dirt over the newly-planted bougainvillea.

  It wasn’t fair. Her problem had become his problem and now he was working like a man with an ax to grind. How could she make it up to him? How could she set that grin of his back on track?

  Glancing out once again, she noticed how the sun reflected across the pool, sprinkling the water with diamonds of light. It occurred to her that it was still quite warm outside. Hot, in fact. She leaned forward with a rush of idea.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Maybe Jax is thirsty. I could take him a glass of water she thought, and stood before the inspiration could pass. Yes. Unable to recall seeing a beverage around his workspace, she decided he needed one. Wineglass in hand, she head to the kitchen. She swung the refrigerator door open and plucked a bottle from the shelf.

  She breezed outside onto the patio, pleased with her plan. “I thought you might be thirsty, so I brought you some water.” Leaning over the simple wood railing, she extended the bottle in hand.

  He turned to find it at chest level. “Thanks,” he said in surprise and reached out a gloved hand to take it from her.

  Graciously, he remained mute about the thermos she spied sitting by his tool bucket. “Is that the last one you have to plant?” she asked, indicating the lone vine of purple bougainvillea on the ground.

  “Yep.” He twisted the cap off the bottle.

  “They really will look good out here, won’t they,” she said, not asking anything, simply intent on settling in for small talk. She folded her arms atop the porch rail and leaned her body into them. “Sort of a canopy of shade.”

  “I think so.” Jax took a deep swig of water, one eye remaining on Jennifer. “Sheltered from the heat, it’ll be your own private courtyard overlooking the pool.”

  Heat. It was a bit humid out here. Shade would be nice. “I’ll have to shop for some lawn chairs to put out here. Those seem a little dilapidated, now that you’ve fixed up the area.”

  He chuckled. “They do look a bit worn, don’t they?”

  Bleached-out green plastic, most of the seats were cracked. “They’re old,” she said, instantly feeling better about his improved disposition. Whether he was being kind or actually felt relaxed, Jennifer found she cared little. She only wanted him to smile. “Do you have any suggestions?” she asked, hopeful for a new opening. “What style do people normally choose for patios?”

  “Stone, tile. Teak is nice. Wears well, and would blend nicely out here.”

  “Teak,” she repeated, trying the idea on for size. “Maybe some colorful cushions, a ceramic planter or two?”

  “Now you’re talking.” He donned a grin. “But be careful,” he said, slyly. “Don’t make it so nice you won’t want to return to the office!”

  The word “office” had the potential to dampen her mission so she whisked past the reference with skilled aplomb. “Forget the office—“ She straightened with a smack of her hands on the railing. “I want to start looking forward to the weekends!”

  “Now there’s a sentiment I can relate to. Time off,” he said, and knocked back another swig of water. “That’s the key to good living.”

  “So what do you do for recreation, Jax? Any special hobbies?”

  “Most of the time, I take to the ocean.”

  Of course, she realized at once. His retirement dreams on the high blue seas. Securing her grip around the wood rail, she pushed her weight against it, curious for more detail. “Do you sail much?”

  “Every chance I get. I keep my boat at a marina in the Grove.”

  “You have a boat?”

  “A real beauty,” he said with pride. “Thirty-two feet of heaven on water that will take me anywhere I want to go, trimmed in some of the most gorgeous teakwood you’ll ever lay eyes on.”

  He was like a kid describing his model boat, except it was real. And expensive. Wasn’t teak one of the pricier woods? How could he afford such a thing?

  “Thirty feet sounds awfully large to me.”

  Jennifer’s face must have been a road map to her thoughts.

  “It’s not as expensive as one would think,” he returned. “For less than the price of most houses,” he tipped his bottle toward her. “You can buy yourself a very fine cruiser. I have a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and the best patio deck in the universe—no offense to yours, of course.” He winked. “But my terrace opens to the world. And once out on the open sea, you don’t need much money. You can catch your food, anchor in private coves for a restful night of sleep and entertainment...” Jax laughed. “It’s life in the slow lane at its best. Just my style.”

  She imagined him splayed across the bow, his khakis soaked through after a dip in the crystal blue waters, his bare chest bronzed from a life in the sun. Funny, but it was the most natural image in the world. “Can you sail it by yourself?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s not too big?”

  “Stern cockpit allows a lot of flexibility. But if it was much bigger then yes, I could use a mate onboard.”

  Is that where his girlfriend fit in?

  Jennifer swatted the thought from her mind. She wasn’t going there. It was none of her business. “So when’s the retirement party.”

  “Six months. Maybe less, to hear my real estate agent tell it.”

  “Six months?” She couldn’t have been more stunned had Jax divulged he was a transsexual.

  “Yep. She says there are a few things I can do to fix it up, but suggests we go ahead and get the house listed. That, and I’ve been saving up.” His eyes danced with anticipation. “So yeah, I’d say in another six months I should be able to embark on the big one.”

  “How will you support yourself?”

  “Bartending, if I need it.” He sucked down another swallow of water. “Once I’m retired, that particular skill will come in handy, to keep the finances fluid.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Well,” he grinned with delight. “I’ll start by cruising around the Bahamas, maybe head to Puerto Rico for awhile and practice my Spanish. Maybe spice up my Salsa, too, before I drift over to St. Thomas, St. Croix...” He beamed. “Who knows where I’ll end up, and that’s the beauty of it. Pure freedom.”

  She was dumbstruck. “You dance the Salsa?”

  “Every chance I get!”

  That was an image she couldn’t contrive. This was a man’s man, not a ladies’ man. He worked dirt, not dance floors. She pushed away from the railing. “But Jackson. You can’t just drift from island to island. What will you do all day long?”

  “Enjoy life.”

  “Doing what? Other than dancing, I mean.” Jennifer didn’t mean to be rude, but he was still young with a lot of years ahead of him. How long could he spend floating around the middle of nowhere?

  “Living. Breathing. The basics.”

  “But you’re talking a long time. Won’t you be bored?”

  Jax belted out a laugh. “Bored?” he gaped. “How can you get bored, when there are new discoveries waiting outside your porthole every day of the year
?”

  She could only stare. He had a point. A fan of exotic beaches herself she understood the allure, but there were other places she wanted to go as well. Africa came to mind.

  She shoved the thought from her mind. “What about the old, ‘You’ve seen one island, you’ve seen them all?’”

  “Must have been a landlubber.”

  “Yes, but...” What gave his life purpose? What inspired him? At least with landscaping, he was servicing the needs of his fellow man. Who, but himself, would he be serving out in the middle of nowhere?

  Jax must have sensed her verdict. His enthusiasm dwindled. “Different strokes for different folks, I guess.” Throwing back the last of the water, he chucked the empty bottle into a nearby bucket. “Thanks for the water, but I need to get finished up here.”

  Disappointment poured into Jennifer’s heart. What began with good intention, collapsed in miserable failure. Again.

  Jax’s abrupt end to the conversation highlighted once again her propensity for stepping on other people’s feelings—one she had no idea existed until now.

  She heaved a sigh. At least not until now. It seemed every time she and Jax spoke, it ended on a disagreeable note and usually because of something she said. Or didn’t say. No matter how unintentional, she always managed to pinch his spirit, extinguishing their rapport.

  What was her problem? This wasn’t like her. Rarely did she set out to deliberately offend anyone—unless of course that someone was Sam—and she usually had it coming.

  But the proof was in his eyes. In his excuse for a sudden departure, his immediate subject change. She had pulled the plug on his enthusiasm. She had insulted him.

  Again. Especially unforgivable today, because a part of her understood his desire to experience life on the most simplest of terms and a part of her wanted the same. It was that other part of her that kept getting in the way.

  Frustration welled. But being a doctor was part of who she was, a big part and one she couldn’t deny. Her life wouldn’t be nearly as meaningful if she wasn’t helping people. It was the part about Jackson she didn’t understand. How could he float through life without purpose? Where did he derive satisfaction? Not mere pleasure, but the deeper satisfaction that touches the soul, connects one to humanity...

  This was his problem. Jax lacked depth, purpose, serving a cause greater than himself. This is where their lives diverged in the starkest of terms. The difference she couldn’t reconcile. The one she wouldn’t even try.

  Jennifer turned and went back into the house. Conversation may as well be over. She had to get ready for dinner with Aurelio later this evening.

  # # #

  “He has an amazing eye for color,” Aurelio assured her, dark eyes coming alive. “And the way he plays them off the mind’s anticipation is amazing.”

  Jennifer swirled the wine in her glass, the candle centered on their table casting it in a lustrous hue of blood red.

  “In some cases, his mix is so subliminal, so intricate; one misses the scene within the scene. They’re solely moved by the emotion of the piece.”

  It reminded her of Jax.

  “True artists are experts in managing color. And this fellow,” Aurelio smiled, “is an absolute genius.”

  Jennifer brought the glass of Cabernet to her lips, smiling as was expected, but her mind couldn’t hold firm to conversation about debut artists, intricate plays of color, or the grandiose praise they were receiving post-opening. She was glad for Aurelio, and happy for the young painters, but her thoughts drifted, content to wander through the elegant bistro without focus.

  At this late hour, the exclusive establishment had more shimmer than light, dimmed chandeliers reflecting golden against heavy brocade drapes and satiny-cream tablecloths. In the corner, the pianist played a mix of jazz and light classical, but she heard none of it, her mind recalling Jax’s lesson on the color wheel. For a moment, she idled on his talent, his use of dual and tri-color groupings. Intriguing how the mind registered the combinations without realizing it, reacting as the artist intended; soothed by mellow blends, or invigorated by opposing. Then she recalled his and Sam’s conversation. How he shared his favorite artist, the man’s technique for creating a sense of light on his canvas, a hint of three dimensions...

  In the quiet of her mind, she smiled. Jax knew a little something about art after all.

  “How’s the landscaping coming along?” Aurelio asked.

  Jennifer blinked. “Good,” she said, startled by the sudden change. “Fine. Many of the plants are already in and they begin work on the front fountain this week.”

  “Is it starting to make sense to you now?”

  She set her glass down on the table. “Yes. The basin is formed and the spillover has been mounted on the back wall. They still have yet to tile, though.”

  “What colors did you finally decide on?”

  “A mix of blue, yellow, rustic orange set against a white background. It sounds awful to hear it,” she said in quick response to the dismay dashing his eyes, apparently none too impressed with the wisdom of her selection. “It’s an Italian ceramic and is quite beautiful. Rather than listen to my description, you probably have to see it to understand how perfect it is. Jackson thought it was an excellent choice,” she added, wondering why she felt the need to bolster her decision by mentioning his approval.

  “I’m sure it is, love. Always a good idea to listen to the professional.”

  Why did Aurelio sound so patronizing?

  Jennifer averted her gaze. Fiddling with the stem of her wineglass, the diamond on her left hand glittered with blinding clarity in the subtly lit room. Was it her? Was she being overly sensitive because this was to be their home, yet she was making all of the decisions?

  Or because he was exerting artistic authority over her.

  “It’s not up, yet. Would you like to take a look, make sure it’s adequate before they install it?”

  “Good heavens, no!” Aurelio reached across the table with both hands and opened them, gesturing she place hers within.

  Jennifer obliged, and as he closed his hands around hers, he said, “I know that whatever you choose will be perfect.” He squeezed them with soothing reassurance. “Really.”

  Jennifer felt like a child being positively reinforced for doing something well. Something that really held no great significance for the adult, but was a huge deal for the little one.

  “How do the plants look?”

  “Fine,” she said, feeling no desire to elaborate. “Jax is looking into the fireplace for the back patio, as well.”

  Aurelio pulled back.

  Jennifer’s hand froze within his clasp, self-conscious of the use of the nickname.

  “Splendid. I agree. It’s the best use of the space and will be a wonderfully romantic location come the winter.” He smiled with a wink, yet the effect that he intended missed its mark.

  “It will provide a nice barrier between the terrace and the driveway,” she replied dully. Jennifer had suddenly lost her desire—for garden talk or romance. Her appetite, too.

  “Maybe I can come by tomorrow and see for myself.”

  She felt a wave of ambivalence wash over her. “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” He looked at her curiously. “Is there a problem?”

  “No problem. Let’s see how my schedule goes,” she evaded. “Can I call you?”

  “Of course,” he replied, tidily folding the question aside.

  Dinner conversation slowed to discussion of catering arrangements. Jennifer had hired a wedding planner to handle most of the details regarding the actual ceremony and reception. Her job was the garden and Aurelio’s...

  What was his responsibility again? Show up on time?

  Jennifer shook the rancor from her thoughts, agitated she was besieged by negativity this close to the wedding day. The big event was weeks away and here she was finding fault with her husband-to-be. Was this normal behavior?

  Was she normal? Granted these weren
’t ideal conditions under which to be married, nor was theirs a rational timeline, but it was their reality. Her reality.

  Her mother’s.

  “Listen, Aurelio. I want to discuss Africa.”

  “You’ve been thinking about the Canary Islands, haven’t you?”

  Jax and his dream of sailing the islands popped into her brain, but she brushed it aside. “Not exactly,” she began, uncertain how to broach the subject. “I’ve been thinking about the time constraints of my schedule. You know Charles is out right now—“

  “Yes, how is he?” Excitement swiftly turned to compassion. “Recovering well, I hope?”

  “Yes, yes, he’s doing fine.” Her gaze dropped to her dessert coffee. Left mostly untouched, it had grown cold, the cream condensing in the center. “It’s mine I’m worried about.”

  He pulled the silky napkin from his lap and dabbed both corners of his mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, what I mean is...” Jennifer rested her forearms against the table’s edge. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage a trip to Africa right now. What with my partner out, my mother...”

  Aurelio’s head tilted to one side. “Sweetheart. I understand this is a difficult time for you right now. We can put off our honeymoon until you’re ready. You know that’s never been an issue with me.”

  “But what about after, Aurelio? I have a career—patients who rely on me. I simply can’t go cavorting around Africa and ignore them.”

  “Well...there are other doctors you know.”

  “What?” The candle flame flickered. “Other doctors?”

  “Sweetheart,” he purred, calming his tone as though he were concerned with her emotional state. “Don’t get upset—“

  “I won’t break, Aurelio. You can be direct. Get to the point. What did you mean?”

  “I simply meant to state that there are other doctors. Your patients will not go untreated while you’re in Africa with me. And besides,” his glance grazed hers, “you’ll have to make this decision sooner or later.”