Jennifer's Garden

by Dianne Venetta

  When he drew near, his smile dimmed. Taking in the elderly woman before him, brown eyes filled with curiosity. He turned to Jennifer. Your mother?

  Beatrice spoke first. “You must be Jackson.”

  “I am,” he answered, his comprehension complete. “You must be Dr. Hamilton.”

  Jennifer cringed. Short and sweet, she prayed. Better yet, short will do. In a defensive stance, she took up position by her mother’s side.

  “I am,” Beatrice replied, her cheeks blushing like a schoolgirl.

  “Jackson Montgomery,” he declared, and reached down to take her hand in formal introduction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you.” Her gaze drifted over the yard then returned to Jax. “The yard is wonderful... You’ve really gone to a lot of trouble.”

  He looked directly at her mother, his reply soft and intense. “I’m always glad to work for a worthy cause, Dr. Hamilton.”

  Jennifer gulped.

  “And good news,” he said, turning to her. “The inspector signed us off. Congratulations. You’re good to go, anytime,” he added, though his eyes held no pleasure at the prospect.

  “Great,” Jennifer said dully.

  Beatrice drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, my!”

  Jennifer’s heart thumped. She bent over at once. “Mom, what is it? What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  “Where did you ever find that?” Asking no one in particular, Beatrice pointed.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jax’s smile returned.

  Escaping the sudden fear that had taken hold, Jennifer’s gaze leapt in the direction her mother pointed. That’s when she saw it. Situated off the corner of her bedroom, rising high and free on a pole above the clump of lush plumbago, sat a Victorian birdhouse.

  She noted the extraordinary detail bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother’s old one, except the color scheme was different. Rather than painted with usual pastels, this one mirrored the colors of her house.

  Jax spoke solely to her mother. “I found it in a specialty store. Your daughter described one that she remembered while growing up, one you had in your garden. She mentioned it was a real beauty, fit for a king.” He smiled. “I checked around and a friend suggested where I might find one similar.” He paused, his expression open, filled with the innocence of a child’s. “What do you think?”

  Tears filled her mother’s eyes. “I love it...” she whispered fiercely. She turned upward to face her daughter, her eyes hopeful. “You remember that?”

  With a lump in her throat the size of a boulder, she could only nod. Jax remembered.

  Evidenced by her mother’s smile, years of hurt melted away. Though he had no idea his role, Jax’s thoughtfulness repaired a bridge between mother and daughter; a gaping rift torn by the harsh words of a self-centered young woman, healed by the deeds of a compassionate young stranger.

  While Beatrice had no idea this was the first time her daughter had laid eyes on the thing, Jennifer knew. She glanced at him. Jax knew.

  Dabbing the corner of her eyes with a crooked forefinger, Beatrice collected herself. She pulled herself a little taller, a little stronger and said, “Jackson, I love what you’ve done here. Will you be so kind as to show me around the rest of your beautiful creation?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Dr. Hamilton.”

  “Call me Beatrice,” she said, warming to his charm.

  He cast a glance toward her, gauging her reception.

  The noose encircled Jennifer’s neck with a yank. If her mother became too cozy, if he learned of her feelings...

  She would surely be the fool.

  “Jenny?”

  “Yes, please,” she mumbled, and grasped hold of the chair handles with a white-knuckled grip.

  “I want to see the bird house up close,” Beatrice declared.

  Jennifer’s ego and heart tumbled over one another. Of course you do... But she duly followed Jax’s lead.

  “It’s an amazing piece of artwork, both in craft and creativity,” he shared as they walked. “A true custom job.”

  Nearing the bedroom patio, the three of them slowed.

  “In fact, if you look close, you’ll see it’s outfitted with a special entrance on the side.”

  Upon closer inspection, Jennifer could see he was right. The birdhouse appeared hand-painted, the woodwork fancy enough for a human’s home, let alone a bird’s.

  Over Beatrice’s head, Jax shot Jennifer a quiet smile—one so brilliant and so powerful—she couldn’t avoid its intimacy.

  Even if she tried. And held within his gaze, one with all the familiarity of a close friend, she heard, “The side entry was made large enough for a Cardinal.” Her grip tightened.

  “Cardinals?” Beatrice asked, glancing to him, somewhat confused. “Why, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a birdhouse made for Cardinals.”

  Jennifer couldn’t breathe. The gesture was so intimate—so private—she feared her eyes betrayed her.

  But Jax grazed past the question with barely a hesitation. Turning to focus on her mother, he replied, “They’re a common visitor around here. I didn’t want them to feel left out. And their song is outstanding, especially in the calm, after the rain...”

  Beatrice laughed softly. “That’s sweet.”

  Jennifer’s heart ached. You have no idea.

  Lacing her fingers together, Beatrice settled in as Jax began a narrative of the yard, the planning that went into it, the changes along the way, directing his comments entirely toward her mother—to which Jennifer was grateful.

  She didn’t know if she could survive any more of his attention. Not with any semblance of indifference, that is.

  What had he done! Jax never mentioned a birdhouse, not once. What was the meaning of it? Was it significant? Warmth flushed through her cheeks. Could it mean Sam was right?

  Did she dare believe...he was interested in her?

  Watching as he discussed the yard and plants with her mother, amiable and personable, he acted as though this was the only job that mattered.

  After their cool farewell from yesterday, Jennifer couldn’t imagine him feeling anything so personal, doing anything so thoughtful.

  But he had. She ventured a peek toward her bedroom. The proof stood clear, perched outside her window.

  “The mandevilla is a perfect choice,” her mother said.

  Jennifer pulled her thoughts inside out. Jax picked it especially for her.

  He stopped shy of the arbor. “Throughout the summer, the red blooms will really light up this space.”

  The three of them stood by the pool, the still water reflecting their image in buttery yellow tones. Retiring for the day, the sun had cooled to a soft glimmer. Behind them, the wall fountain added a subtle splash of peace to the air.

  Jennifer’s eyes lingered on their mirror image, thinking how they appeared three individuals out for a leisurely stroll.

  It was far from reality. Far from the more accurate description of a woman on the verge of death, her daughter mired in reservation, the man caught in between.

  “I think this area is my favorite,” Beatrice said, her gaze resting on the fountain, the wrought iron bench nestled nearby, beneath an umbrella of shade. “It’s relaxing.”

  “Exactly what we were looking for when we designed this fountain.”

  Jax’s eyes sought Jennifer for confirmation, and while she met his gaze, she couldn’t agree. There was no “we” involved in the decision. It had been his. All his.

  And it was perfect.

  Beatrice looked to her daughter, her eyes gentle yet appraising. “It will be a wonderful place to begin your new life, Jenny.”

  Jennifer stared mute.

  She turned to Jax, assessing the man before her. “I commend you, Mr. Montgomery. You are a true master. An artist.”

  Pride illuminated his smile. He nodded in response, the gesture more bow than nod.

  Beatrice glanced between Jax and Jennifer, pausing, as thou
gh she intended to add something more, something of significance. Jennifer held her breath, a thousand emotions hanging on the outcome. Jax waited in respectful silence.

  Tranquil blue-gray eyes settled on Jax. “I once had a garden... A garden to live by,” she said, nudging a sly smile toward her daughter. “It was my retreat. My private haven tucked away from the pressures of work.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I used to spend hours there, fussing with my flowers, weeding, pruning, savoring my privacy...” Her smile seemed to reach out, and wrap itself around Jax. “Heaven on earth.”

  He looked at Jennifer, his gaze dark and penetrating. You told her about my mother.

  Jennifer felt her bare arms turn to gooseflesh.

  “One of the purest connections with our Father is through the Mother,” Beatrice continued. “From the riches of the earth to the heavens above, Mother Nature takes part in everything we do.” Beatrice’s eyes were intent, serene against the ravages of time, focused on the man before her.

  Jennifer was amazed to witness Jax’s expression turn meek as a kitten. His eyes had stilled, almost mesmerized as he spoke. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  Jennifer wondered at his question.

  “Complete.” Beatrice gave a sad nod. “It’s the cycle of life.”

  But she suddenly understood. Jax was feeling his mother’s absence. Within a small space of time, his world had been flipped by the soft words of her mother.

  Instinct wanted to fill the void for him, to soothe the hurt that must be coursing through him, but she resisted. Grief was a space nothing could satisfy, a hole no word could plug.

  “Love is everlasting, on earth as it is in heaven,” Beatrice murmured, a bare wisp in the hollow of evening.

  “For ever and ever,” Jax whispered, his tone coated in sorrow. Dusk descended upon them, casting shadows across the lawn. No one uttered a sound, each content to listen as the water flowed into the basin below. A sense of inevitability hung heavy in the air. Surreal and weightless, it reminded the end was near, yet promised love would endure.

  Life was fleeting, attachments were temporary, grief worked its way in and out through time. Death made no judgment, snatched without quarrel.

  Her chest tightened. Left one vacant without qualm.

  Jennifer’s eyes met Jax’s and for an instant, recognition passed between them. He understood.

  All she could do was wait.

  Unfortunately for Jennifer, the fingertips of death crept quickly, slipped around her neck, announcing themselves with the shrill ring of her telephone. Bolting to life, she grappled through the black of night.

  2:14.

  A bone-chilling trepidation poured into her heart. The hospital paged her. Fairhaven called her at home. Hand trembling, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Dr. Hamilton?”

  “Yes.” Her heart tripped, knowing immediately what came next.

  “Your mother is asking for you.”

  “I’ll be there right away.” She smacked phone to its cradle. Fear wound through her limbs. Your mother is asking for you. Wasting no time, Jennifer hurried to dress. Unsteady hands rendered a simple task difficult, but her mind pushed. She couldn’t be late. Please, she prayed.

  Don’t let me be late.

  Twenty minutes later, she stood staring at her mother’s still body through a blur of tears. Painted in soft light, the cream cotton blankets appeared velvet, her nightgown more satin than cotton, her ivory skin...

  Pasty by comparison. Jennifer hurried to the head of the bed and reached for her mother’s slender hand. Startled by the touch of ice, her heart skipped. No...!

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Beatrice’s lashes fluttered. With that uncanny sense of hers, she opened them and turned toward Jennifer. Reaching out through the silence, her gaze deepened to a lucid blue.

  “Mom,” Jennifer whispered, heart pounding with relief.

  She’d made it. She wasn’t too late.

  “Jenny...”

  Her mother’s speech was near indiscernible. Jennifer leaned forward, closing the space between them to inches. “Yes, mom, I’m here.” One hand clutched around her mother’s, she lightly rubbed the other across her forearm—for warmth, for connection, for something constructive to do. “You asked to see me.”

  Beatrice’s smile never made it to her lips, but shimmered lovingly in her eyes. “I love you... More than life... I love you.”

  The words sliced her heart in two. “I love you, too.” Grief rendered her hand limp. “So much. I love you, too.”

  “You have...a beautiful life...ahead of you...”

  She moved to caress her mother’s cheek, to brush the hair from her face. She wanted to scream—don't go! Not now.

  I need you!

  “Look...beneath the surface...” Her voice but a feather of sound, Beatrice’s speech was labored but clear. “That’s where your true love lies...”

  She closed her eyes.

  Denial warred with reality. No—not yet. Please not yet.

  But they proved to be her mother’s last words. Jennifer’s face twisted in anguish. She pressed the thin hand hard against her lips. She hated the feel of skin and bones, but she needed the connection, the union. She needed her to remain.

  Jennifer rolled the hand to her cheek, squeezing her eyes shut, she fought the fear coursing through her. She can’t go. There’s too much to live for. Too much she needed to do.

  But as she reeled, deep inside Jennifer knew this was the end; an end she had already prolonged for too long. She hung on, because of her daughter. As if she could delay the inevitable.

  But it was irrational. Beatrice Hamilton’s life was over. Her mother’s body was shutting down, turning out the light on life, returning to her husband’s side.

  Leaving Jennifer alone. Aurelio summarily rejected, Sam a thousand miles away, and Jax...

  Her heart broke as their recent weeks, filled with new beginning and life-changing moments evaporated from her thoughts. Jax may as well be a thousand miles away. No ties, no connection, he was but a blip on the screen of her subconscious. A dream.

  Jennifer’s shoulders shook as she began to sob. She dropped to the bedside chair. Once her anchor, the cushions now felt rigid, like foreign objects. No longer a place to ease into the visit at hand, this was her post for the death watch.

  Still breathing, her mother had lapsed into a coma.

  Through the night, Jennifer nodded in and out of sleep. But as dawn seeped in through the blinds, her mind crawled to an awakened state. With a light brush across dry powdery lips, she determined her mother was still alive.

  Allowing her hand to fall, Jennifer prepared herself to sit out the duration. She would not leave her mother’s side.

  She had alerted her partners hours ago, grateful for their response. Take all the time you want. We’ll manage your patients from this end. Next she had called Sam, now bound for the next flight out of Ohio.

  Which gave Jennifer comfort. She would help her carry this burden she had no idea how to bear.

  Vigilant nurses moved in and out of the room, offering assistance and words of support. Jennifer appreciated them all, but refused their advice to break from her vigil. She couldn’t leave. Wouldn’t. Her mother was all she had and until she took her last breath, she wanted to be with her.

  By noon, the doctor stopped in. He warned her it could be days before Beatrice finally let go. At this point, the best thing she could do was keep up her strength. Go home. Get showered. Eat something. They would call her if anything changed.

  Reluctantly, Jennifer agreed. Since being roused from the dead of night, she had not eaten a morsel and admitted a shower might do her good. If only to renew her energy, enable her to resume her position. Releasing the frail hand, it was settled. Jennifer would return within two hours’ time. If need be, they were to call her cell phone directly.

  # # #

  “Jennifer, I’m so sorry.”

  Jax had been waiti
ng for her. Leaning against his truck, patient, determined, he had been here. Waiting.

  She stared at him blankly. But how could Jax know?

  “Sam called me this afternoon.” His words were rushed, as though he couldn’t get them out fast enough. “She couldn’t get a flight out until this evening and asked me to check on you—I told her I would.”

  That explained it. Darn her, bless her, but that’s exactly something Sam would do. Caught between surprise and relief, Jennifer’s mind numbed to the courtesy of decorum and simply nodded she heard. Above them hung a low ceiling of gray. It dulled the beauty of her yard, but nourished her mood.

  “Are you all right?” Jax swore under his breath, and brushed a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry—that was stupid.” He blinked hard, concern swimming in his eyes. “I meant is there anything I can do? How is she?”

  The question unleashed a flurry of tears.

  He cursed again. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, not wanting him to struggle. Jax was here as a measure of good deed. He should know she appreciated it. No matter how mixed her feelings were at his presence, how much thoughts of her mother hurt, he should know she cared. “Thank you for coming.” She wiped fingers along the lids of her eyes. “Her condition hasn’t changed.”

  “Does her doctor—“ he asked, but dumped the question as he stared at her. Brown eyes heavy with doubt, he seemed at a loss, but intent on being helpful, there for her.

  “Her doctor doesn’t know...” Jennifer evaded the persistence of his gaze, unable to bear the yearning pulse of her heart, the desire to release her troubles and allow him the role of support. Lover.

  The air temperature dropped by a noticeable degree. She rubbed her shoulders. “No one has any way of knowing,” she said abruptly. “Only time will tell.”

  Sprinkles began to fall. Jax looked up, but before either could make a move, a crack of lightning cut across the sky, followed by a deafening roar. Rain fell.

  Jax grabbed Jennifer by the arm. He slammed her car door closed and pulled her into a sudden sprint. Sailing up the steps and onto her back porch, he steered her toward a dry spot near the house. Shaking the water free from his hair, he released her arm. Allowing his gaze to settle on hers, he waited for direction.