When We Met

by C J Marie

  “His valve gave out. He wasn’t taking his medication everyday…it happens, Jo. I’m…sorry, I know you had a good rapport with the man.”

  “Why…why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

  Emmitt’s voice sounded dry and gravelly, and if Jo didn’t know any better it seemed as if he wanted to end the phone call. “Well, you’ve seemed a little out of sorts the last few days, I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Out of sorts. Because I’m doing something you don’t want me to do, you mean.”

  “I don’t want to argue, Jo, and I need to…get back to work, but I wanted to let you know. Death is part of the job. We can’t get emotional every time.”

  Easier said than done. Emmitt was right to an extent, sometimes Jo did get emotionally involved with certain patients. When they hurt she hurt, and it was a slippery slope when some succumbed to ailments.

  “I know,” she rasped, knowing Emmitt would probably roll his eyes since her voice cracked.

  “Well, I’ll…call you tonight to check in. He, uh died peacefully if that helps.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” When did conversations with Emmitt become so awkward?

  She hung up the phone, uncertain if she even said goodbye. The quiver of her chin, drew the burn of tears from her eyes and Jo spent the next private moments bleeding her pain for the loss of her favorite patient, and then more for his widow left behind. The Garcia’s lost their son only a year earlier, now Mrs. Garcia was left to bury her husband.

  Her phone rang again. Jo took a deep breath, once more considering if she should answer or not, but Greta might provide more information.

  “Hello,” Jo croaked.

  “Jo, oh I’m so glad you answered. I know you must think so little of me, but you need to know it was so unexpected, I never meant for anything to happen—”

  “Greta it isn’t your fault,” Jo crooned.

  A palpable silence vibrated between the lines, until Greta’s soft voice ended the discomfort. “You…really mean that?”

  “I know you did everything you could to help Mr. Garcia.”

  “Mr...oh.” Jo listened to Greta draw in a long rattling breath. “He didn’t tell you did he? I knew he wouldn’t.”

  Her sternum was likely bruised and battered from the constant thumping of her heart. Jo’s stomach plummeted—what other bad news did Emmitt leave out. “Emmitt just called to tell me about Joseph.”

  “Oh, Jo.” Now Greta’s voice was cracking. “That wasn’t what he was supposed to tell you. Not even the half of it.”

  “What’s going on, Greta?” Jo’s words slurred when her tongue swelled.

  “Um…we never meant to hurt you, Jo. Sometimes when it hits, it hits, and I want you to know how much I respect you as a professional and woman, but I can’t deny what’s been building between us. I hope you can understand.”

  Jo’s brain was swirling. There wasn’t any possible way Greta was insinuating what she thought. No way. Jo slumped back against the bathroom wall and slid to the ground. Her voice hollow, dark, and unnerving when she spoke. “Did you sleep with him?”

  Greta wailed in fresh sobs. “Jo, I’m so sorry. We’ve been working late together, and it just…happened. We…love—”

  “Stop,” she snapped, emotion lost in her tone. “Don’t say it. Don’t even try to justify this.”

  “Jo, please. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, Emmitt, he was supposed to—”

  Jo didn’t wait for another word before she disconnected and threw her phone across the bathroom. She heard the crack as it slammed against the floor, but it hardly mattered. She hugged her knees against her chest and drew in rapid gasps of air. Her heart shattered, pieced together, then shattered again. Yet, by some phenomenon no tears bled from her eyes. Instead, her body coated in roaring flames.

  She’d lost someone. And been betrayed by another in one breath. There were feelings Jo had always wanted to forget, tragedy that raked deep in her personal pieces of her soul. She’d vowed never to slip into such places, yet as she sat in the abandoned clinic, the chill of the tile wall cooling her backside, Jo felt the darkness enrobe her body and she knew—she was utterly alone.

  Chapter 11

  Zac sauntered into the clinic, the lights were dimmed and the building was quiet. He smiled, admiring the time and effort the Gardener family had put into the place to make it nice and comfortable for the community.

  “Jo?” he called out. No answer.

  Zac drummed the textbook with his fingers and considered waiting in the front lobby, but after a few moments of silence, decided against waiting and stepped behind the doors toward the offices and exam rooms.

  He trudged past Doctor Raymond’s office—it was locked anyway—and poked his head in the next physician’s office. No nameplate, and the room was practically empty since no one had claimed the position, but he noticed Jo’s purse on top of the desk along with a water bottle and a jar filled with suckers. But no Jo.

  Zac’s heart leapt to his throat when a muffled shout rattled from behind, followed by the clatter of something certainly breaking. The sliver of light bled into the dim hallway as if beckoning him to enter. Faced with another dilemma, Zac studied the women’s bathroom sign for at least ten heartbeats. The place was empty. Jo was still here, he’d seen Olive’s BMW in the parking lot, her things were here, but no sign of another soul. When he heard a few shuddering breaths heaving behind the door, Zac forgot manners or propriety and shoved through the door.

  His blood chilled, and it seemed a cloudy haze filled the space in his head when he saw Jo slumped against the wall, her head buried in her knees until she reacted to the opening door. Zac tilted his head and swiftly lowered to his haunches when her red eyes locked with him.

  “Jo, what’s wrong?” he asked, his hand resting on her forearm whether she wanted it there or not.

  She didn’t push him away, and her stunning eyes were void of tears though by all accounts it sounded as though she were sobbing. Jo’s eyes bounced between his gaze, her narrow nose crinkled, the fullness of her lips quivered as she stared at him, and Zac nearly broke in two when a single, crystal tear dripped on her smooth cheek. Jo’s chin quivered and before any preparation could be made, her arms flung around his neck, squeezing as if her life depended on it. Zac folded his grip around her waist, holding her tight against his body. Jo buried her face in his shoulder, her lashes caressing his neck, and his skin soaked in her silent tears.

  “Hey,” he whispered, stroking the back of her head as if it were a natural touch between them. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She pulled back, but still leaned her head on Zac’s shoulders, wiping her eyes with maddening fury as if the tears angered some primal instinct inside. “Where do I start?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  “He’s a coward,” she shrieked, her fingernails curling around Zac’s T-shirt.

  Slinging his arm around her shoulders, Zac adjusted his position and nestled against the cold wall hugging Jo against the side of his body. She was in need, but Zac couldn’t deny the fiery pricks along his skin. Her figure molded with his as if it belonged there all along.

  “Who is? Doctor Dreamy?”

  “He’s a nightmare,” she sniffed, her voice finding more grounding and steadied. Jo faced Zac, her shoulders squared on him, but her hand wrapped around his forearm like he was an anchor keeping her in place. He’d be whatever she needed. “He had the…balls…to try and cover it up by using my patient’s death.”

  “You had a patient die? Jo, I’m sorry.”

  Now, her chin quivered and new tears welled in her eyes. Jo nodded and squeezed his arm tighter. “I guess it happened a few days ago. He was such a wonderful man, so kind. So scared by his diagnosis, but he didn’t want to leave his wife alone, so he followed my advice and instructions to the T while I was there. For some reason he stopped caring for himself over the last few weeks. It’s not fair.”

  Zac hugged her
firmer as guilt for his part in her absence with her patients took hold. “I’m sorry.”

  Jo met his eye fiercely. “This isn’t your fault Zac. Is that what you’re thinking? Because I’m here—I don’t blame you. Know that.”

  A bit of guilt ebbed away, but her eyes were still broken. “I’m still sorry your patient died.”

  “You know what makes it worse? Emmitt knew how much Joseph meant to me…knew that, and only told me he even died because he was too cowardly to say the truth. It didn’t matter to him that Joseph died, it was an opportunity to hide a little longer—I wouldn’t have found out until I went back home. He used a man I cared about, and that makes this…so much worse.”

  Zac never liked Mr. Doctor in Boston by default, even if he’d never met the man he sounded like an idiot. When he’d started upsetting Jo as of late, well, Zac wouldn’t mind meeting the man only to give him a real piece of his thoughts. Something about the tone in her voice dried the back of his throat until swallowing was difficult.

  “What did he do?” Jo drew in a breath, it rattled and shook, but she also wrapped her arm around Zac’s waist. He cupped one side of her face, urging her gaze toward his. “What did he do, Jo?”

  “He slept with someone else. Someone we work with. And he couldn’t tell me—she did. He ran like a frightened dog with its tail tucked—he is a dog. A sleezy, cheating, cowardly, dog.”

  Jo covered her face with her hands. She didn’t cry, but screamed behind her palms. Rage, betrayal, hurt all echoed in the women’s bathroom. Zac splayed his fingers wide along her back, and held her stronger than before. Perhaps his emotions were clouding his own mind. What sort of man stepped out? Funny timing, and it seared Zac’s hatred of a person he’d never met even more. Jo started working at the clinic, this guy had some weird problem with it, and he found someone else to vent to. Moron.

  What could he say? He didn’t know, so for a long time, Zac sat with her, holding Jo, allowing her to use his body as a support. When the bathroom fell into silence, after her breathing slowed and came even again, Zac nudged her side and lifted her chin. “Come with me,” he muttered. “I want to show you something.”

  “I just want to go home…well, to the motel.”

  He smiled. “Come on. You didn’t think too much of this place when you first came, but I want to show you something that will make you feel better. I promise.”

  Jo hung her head, but one corner of her mouth lifted in a cautious smile. “Alright. I don’t think I’ll be great company though.”

  “I’m not worried, Jo. I’ll take you any way you are.”

  Jo studied him for a pause as he rose from the chilled tile and held out his hand. He would sell his soul to know what she was thinking as she stared at his palm as if it had caught fire, until Jo’s hand inched closer, her warm skin settling in his grip. Zac tugged her to standing, her body closer than he thought. They stopped, meeting each other’s eyes, their bodies only inches apart. Jo rolled her bottom lip over her teeth, her eyes jolting back and forth as she refused to drop her gaze.

  “Come on,” he breathed, tugging her hand and pulling her free from the isolating bathroom.

  Jo stopped in the office, grabbed her things and sauntered at his side all the way to his truck. Zac’s breath hitched when she rested her hand over his once he started the ignition.

  “Sorry,” she pulled back. Zac made that stop instantly, and threaded her fingers tight in his.

  “For what?”

  She smiled, staring at their hands linked like a chain. “I hate to admit it, but holding your hand is helping.”

  Zac laughed and bled into traffic on the highway. “Are you admitting I’m not so bad, Jo?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Zachariah, but I am going to hold your hand for now.”

  “Whatever you need. I think I’m getting the better part of the deal though,” he grinned, pulsing a few squeezes to her hand.

  Jo didn’t say much, but she was smiling—a real grin—on her face. She took a few deep breaths and before too long her thumb was absently caressing his hand. Zac wasn’t positive she knew she was doing it, but the simple touch ignited a need inside him that he never expected nor imagined form their less than cordial meeting. The woman who’d slammed his shop, hated him, snapped at him, Zac wouldn’t mind if she stayed a little longer. In fact, Zac found tonight, he planned to pretend Jo Graham didn’t have a home anywhere else; that she was there to stay.

  ***

  His touch cooled, and warmed at the same time. His calloused palms brought solace she didn’t know existed. Jo relaxed whenever her fingers touched his skin, even if her stampeding heart had morphed into a shattered mess in the center of her chest.

  Gilded sunlight had ignited in brilliant pinks, oranges, greens as the sun took its final farewell for the day. Jo still held tight to Zac’s hand as they strolled down a dirt path into what looked like basic trees.

  “I came here a lot after my dad died—I think my uncle knew I loved it, so he would drive us out here at least three times a week.”

  Jo offered a sad smile at the vulnerable admission, though she didn’t understand how a few trees were going to help. They rounded a fence and Jo’s hesitations disappeared at the first sight of the magnanimous work of nature.

  “Wow,” she breathed, the word meant to stay within her own thoughts, but it seemed her reaction couldn’t be bridled. Zac grinned, pleased. “It’s so…beautiful.”

  They stood in a forest. Trees she’d seen every day in Honeyville and Charleston surrounded her, but this one was reverent, breathtaking, even. The oak wasn’t overly towering, but incredible, nonetheless. Jo took a few soft steps toward the sprawling limbs. From every direction the great tree released massive boughs. The heavy limbs sprouted high toward the glowing sky, while others had grown low, even cutting beneath the earth only to sprout up again so the boughs looked like sea serpents curling and peaking beneath the waves. The leaves wafted in the breeze and caught the golden sunlight across the smooth moss-coated bark. Other visitors stalked around the tree, most seeming to have her same reaction—calm, silent admiration. The tree reminded her of a bolt of lightning, with its bright surges in the form of magnificent branches splaying in all directions, embracing those who stepped beneath its shroud.

  Some of the branches had grown so heavy, wooden posts had been stacked beneath them to buoy the weight of the sagging limbs from breaking off the trunk of the tree. The branches shaded the sunset, and Jo couldn’t help but reach out and brush her hands across the serpentine boughs as she drew closer to the trunk.

  “It’s called Angel Oak,” Zac whispered. “Supposedly one of the oldest trees in the country. I thought it was magic as a kid because I always felt calmer coming here.”

  “It is magic,” Jo breathed, as she stepped up to the base of the thick trunk. Rough, damp bark raised beneath her fingertips as she released Zac’s hand and sauntered around the tree. Jo closed her eyes, embracing the peace of the calming place. Fresh, humid air filled her lungs, washing away the burn of anguish she’d kept prisoner within throughout the drive.

  Jo finished her turn around the tree, and met Zac’s eye from where she’d left him standing. “It’s beautiful.”

  Zac didn’t look at the tree, but he nodded. “It is.”

  Jo locked on his gaze, her heart thudding once more, but for a slew of other reasons. In the shaded, broken light beneath the tree she seemed to see Zac in a new light. His cliché of tall, dark and handsome wasn’t something she’d noticed to such an extent. Zac stood taller despite her own above average height, but his eyes always had a kindness in the smooth brown that made it impossible for anyone to see his strong figure as intimidating. He had every right to dislike her, but as she reeled through all their interactions, Jo smiled, knowing Zac had never degraded her, never said cruel things, he rarely even brought up the collision with his gas pump.

  She took a step closer, taking hold of his hand again, because like the stunning o
ak tree, Zac added a peace she needed. And Jo took that calm greedily.

  After a few silent moments admiring the tree, Zac led her toward a bench, and left to buy drinks at a small shop tucked a few yards from the oak. Jo was lost in her admiration of the unique work of natural art, and startled when Zac returned, his hand brushing along her shoulders. With a chuckle he settled next to her on the bench and popped the top to the soda he’d brought them. She wasn’t much of a soda drinker, but sitting there in the sunset with Zac, nothing had tasted better.

  “Thanks for this,” she whispered after long pause. “For making me feel better, I mean.”

  Zac scoffed, and glanced at the ground. “It was as much for me as you,” he admitted. “I’ve never met this Emmitt, but I wouldn’t mind breaking his nose. So, I could use the calm of the tree too.”

  Jo chuckled, though it was humorless and required a long swig of her drink to wash out the acidic taste on her tongue. “Three years,” she muttered. “I gave him three loyal years. And after two weeks he just…” Jo shook her head, her fingers gripping tight to the edge of the bench. “I’m not stupid enough not to realize why. He was frustrated with me about working at the clinic, but I never thought he’d…do this over a disagreement.”

  “He’s missing a light upstairs, Jo,” Zac insisted with such fervor she believed every word. “A complete moron for throwing someone like you aside. I wish he could see what you’re doing down here, how happy that clinic makes you, but he’s an idiot so he probably wouldn’t see it anyway.”

  Jo smiled, crimson heat lining the bridges of her cheeks. “Like father like daughter, I guess.” Zac peered at her with one brow raised. Jo chuckled, and stared at the branches above. “That’s why Emmitt doesn’t want me working in family practice. Because of my dad.” Jo scoffed, shaking her head. “I haven’t talked about it in so long.”

  “You don’t need to tell me anything you—”

  “I want to,” she insisted, meeting his eye. “I don’t know why, but I want to.”