Jennifer

by Dee Henderson

  Tom dug out a handful of change from his pocket and held it out to her.

  She carefully selected another penny. “Why haven’t you gotten married and given your mom those grandkids?”

  He studied the penny balanced on his finger, then smiled and sent it spinning into the pool. “Some things in life don’t get better when they’re rushed. Marriage is one of those things. Do you know how many people get married who aren’t even friends yet?”

  “That’s a scary thought.” She sorted through his change and chose a dime. “I think I’m more interested in just not being the first in my family to do something. Definitely not being the first to get married.”

  She watched the dime land in the water with a small splash. “We’re a close family. And there’s rocking the boat, and then there’s tipping it over. I’m not the one who normally does any tipping. That would be Kate occasionally, when her work gets her shot at. Or sometimes Jack, because he fights fires a little too close at times when someone has to be rescued and he gets himself singed. One of us getting married would feel like a pretty big shift.” She selected another penny from his handful of change and sent it sailing through the air, spinning in the moonlight. “I’ve got to remember this. My kids would get a blast out of flipping coins into the water.”

  He laughed and offered her another dime. “I’m beginning to appreciate the kid still in you every time you let her show her face.”

  “I’m normally too responsible, but then there are moments like this . . .” She stopped the slide of change into her hand and closed his fist around the coins. “Take me home, Tom. It was a nice pizza, a good walk, and now I’d like to be home by midnight.”

  He studied her face, then smiled. “Can we do this again? Maybe not the pizza, but the time? I enjoyed myself, Jennifer.”

  “So did I. Which is why you’re taking me home before midnight.”

  “Cautious, wise, and something else . . . someone is calling you tonight? Family perhaps?”

  “Let’s just say I’m aware it’s Friday night, and most O’Malleys don’t respect sane hours when they have a free minute to call.”

  “You’ll be safely home before midnight.”

  “You’re laughing at me.”

  “With you. I think I like your family already. Miles away, and still they keep you on your best behavior.”

  “Just try being the youngest of seven for a while. It’s a very different world than you can even imagine.”

  3

  Jennifer began to look forward to the slices of time when Tom would track her down at the office. Or she’d linger around the hospital, taking evening rounds when she knew he was scheduled for late surgery. It became a pattern for their friendship—walking together when the workday ended, sharing the occasional meal or coffee at the end of their stroll to continue their conversation.

  It was raining on Tuesday night when she ducked out from under the restaurant’s front-door canopy and hurried toward his car pulling up to the curb. He leaned over to open the door for her. “This is sure not the clear weather that was forecasted.”

  “I’d say.” It had put an end to their usual walk. The pizza tonight had been more upscale than the first place he had taken her, but she couldn’t say it was better. She settled in as Tom pulled out into traffic.

  “So are you planning to work this weekend?” Tom asked.

  Jennifer tried to remember the calendar on her desk. “I’m off, not even a pager, but Saturday morning is planned.”

  “Would you like to do something together? I was thinking we eventually ought to actually schedule something.” He glanced over at her, then back to the wet pavement.

  She smiled. “I happen to like spontaneous. There are less dress-up decisions and pacing involved.”

  He glanced over again, looking amused. “True. But it’s hard to get tickets to a ball game or concert on the spur of the moment. Let’s find a newspaper and see what’s going on around town this weekend.”

  “I’d lean toward the ball game in that list of options.”

  Tom idled at the light before the turn toward her home. “Do you want to call it a night yet? It’s still early. You could come by and see the house I’ve been talking about, and I’ll find us a movie to watch.”

  “Sure, I’d like to see your place. Just have me home by midnight.”

  He turned south rather than north. “Does your family actually call you that late?”

  “Occasionally. It’s more the fact I’m too old for late nights. I need my sleep.”

  He laughed. “There are priorities that come with the job, sleep being high on the list. I’m just fortunate I don’t have surgery scheduled for tomorrow or I’d be begging off myself to call it a night.”

  Intrigued, Jennifer wandered around Tom’s home, putting together her image of him from work and from their conversations as they walked with the tangible things he had collected. The place was much more Spartan than she had expected. The furnishings were comfortable, guy-sized, and the colors on the walls well chosen. But those walls were mostly bare, the tabletops clear. She found stacks of artwork leaning against a wall in the dining room and a wonderful collection of blown-glass globes and paperweights, still wrapped, in a box by the fireplace hearth. Tom had moved in, but he hadn’t yet finished making it home.

  That he was a reader she had known from the variety of subjects that came up during their conversations, but seeing the shelves of books he had collected reminded her of that fact. The number of volumes spoke of a man comfortable with his life and not needing to fill every evening with people to be content. She liked that about him.

  She lingered at the shelves, scanning titles, forming an impression about what had caught his interest over time. The books on medical matters were expected, the ones on the Old West were not, and the fiction section was vast. She saw several books about God and the Bible and wondered at them.

  Tom joined her, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. She accepted one with a quiet thanks, for the rain had left her a bit chilled, and waved a hand toward the rooms she had explored. “I like your home. It has potential.”

  “I agree with the potential. This place needs time and energy, neither of which I’ve given it yet.” He knelt and pushed open a cabinet to search out a DVD option. “That was one of the reasons I wanted you to see it, so expectations would settle quickly into something closer to reality.”

  She leaned against the side of the cabinet and watched him. “I think it’s the pictures and artwork. I tend to think in quantity. You have almost bare walls. Nice paint-color choices, but not much on them yet.”

  That he had settled for a couple of bedrooms, a home office, along with a kitchen seldom used, reflected where he spent his time. The home office was the most put-together space she had seen. Her place had more the feel of a home, but it wasn’t fundamentally all that different.

  “My mother would agree with you. When the rain stops, I’ll show you the backyard and the large deck. It’s the reason I bought this place, more than the house itself. One day when life is more settled, I’ll turn my attention to at least getting the artwork hung.” He held up a DVD. “Season three of Next Generation?”

  She studied the show listing, then nodded. “Perfect.”

  He turned on the stack of equipment next to his television, slid in the DVD, and kicked on the surround-sound speakers.

  A scan of the room gave her several options. She headed toward comfort and sank into the leather couch. She kicked off her shoes and curled her feet up under her.

  “How’s the pain tonight?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got a nice tell—you rub what hurts. You’ve rubbed that right knee at least three times tonight since we went for dinner.” He settled into the big chair beside the couch and picked up the remote. “Can I at least get you something for it?”

  “I wasn’t aware I was doing it. It’s just bruised. I lost my balance and turned into the corner of an
exam table this afternoon.”

  “Ouch.” He passed her the remote. “Set the volume where it’s comfortable. We need popcorn.” He got up and reached for his mug. “Want a popcorn bag of your own? I’m pretty good at the microwave kind.”

  “Sure.”

  The show began while Tom was gone. She relaxed back into the couch. This wasn’t quite the ending of the day she had expected, but she wouldn’t have traded it for other options. She liked sharing space and time with him in a way she hadn’t thought she would. This was the real man behind the layers, not one trying overly hard to impress her, and she liked what she was finding.

  There wasn’t so much an I’m dating him feel to the relationship as a solid friendship, and it made life so much easier to stay relaxed and normal around him. She was wise enough to see that Tom was planning to one day attempt to turn the relationship into something more, but he wasn’t being overly intense about it. As a middle ground, they seemed to have hit the right note.

  She caught herself rubbing her knee again. The bruise ached. She had to get better at covering her tells. Tom had been watching her more closely than she realized to have noticed it tonight.

  “Do you remember this episode?”

  She glanced over as Tom came back in with the popcorn. She accepted a bag. “Vaguely. If I’m remembering correctly, it’s pretty good.”

  “I like repeats. I can enjoy the good parts again.”

  Tom turned off the television and ejected the DVD. “You’re half asleep.”

  Jennifer caught herself beginning to nod off and stretched as she uncurled from her position on the couch. “Guilty. I’m conditioned to fall asleep when I stop moving. I don’t often sit for a couple of hours.” She yawned as she saw the time. It was comfortably late, but she felt a nice kind of relaxed. She glanced toward the dark windows. “I think the rain stopped.”

  “About an hour ago,” Tom agreed.

  He didn’t look tired, and she wondered where he got so much energy. She felt dead at this time of night.

  He offered her a hand up from the couch. “I’ll give you a ride home, and you can go curl up under the covers and finish the rest of that dream. You were smiling as you drifted off.”

  His hand was warm where hers was still a bit cold, and she let hers linger in his for a moment, enjoying the contact. “Memories. The last time I got a relaxing evening like this, my sister Rachel was in town. She’s always good for a hug and a few hours of peaceful downtime. With Kate it tends to be more of a whirlwind of activity flowing by. I love that too. They are just very different visits.”

  She stretched again and worked the stiffness out of her back. “Take me home. We’ll do this again some night at my place. I can probably be talked into trying to make brownies or something to go with the show.”

  “Now you’re talking.” He reached over to remove something from her hair. “The pillow is shedding, I think. A hazard of new purchases.” He showed her the small white tag.

  “Thanks.”

  She was more interested in the casual touch, the fact he hadn’t moved his hand away, than in his words. Half a step forward on her part and she could get a hug, but he wasn’t going to close the distance without her doing so. She smiled and stepped back. “I was thinking, if you’re free, you should come join me Saturday morning. Say eight?”

  “What’s planned?”

  She laughed. “You sound kind of suspicious. It’s easier to show you than explain. Plan old jeans, and carrying stuff, and you’ll be good to go.”

  The practice didn’t have scheduled patients on Saturday, but most of the staff was in today, using the morning to clear away paperwork while painters came and went. Exam rooms were being repainted, and new carpet was going in the next day. Jennifer took over the larger of the two conference rooms once the furniture was removed, taking advantage of this opportunity for more interesting plans for the space.

  Tom maneuvered through the door carrying the second of the boxes from her car trunk. “Did you say ‘party’ with a lower or uppercase P?”

  “I only know how to do one kind.” She searched the box to find the white tablecloth with the happy birthday banner folded up inside. “There it is. I was getting worried I’d forgotten a box. Can you get the cake or should I come down to the car to help?”

  “I can handle it.”

  He picked up one of the small pillows. There were baskets of them around the room now, the six-by-six-inch soft pillows in a rainbow of colors. “You made these.”

  “Over the years. It’s called a pillow fight, kid-style. As long as the cake and punch are covered, they can’t do much damage.”

  “Can adults join in?”

  “After the party is over.”

  “I can see I’m just getting used for my muscles.”

  “Want to blow up balloons?” She offered one of them to him.

  “I’ll go get the cake.”

  “I thought you’d opt out of the hot-air job.” She started blowing into a balloon.

  “I think you’re going to enjoy this morning more than the kids.”

  “Probably. They arrive in an hour. Get back to work.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The whiteboard had become an outlined mural, waiting for the kids to color it in.

  “Your cowboy is crooked,” Jennifer pointed out, studying the sketch.

  Tom stepped back from the board to get a better perspective. “He broke in too many horses and leans when he stands.”

  She laughed. “That will work.” She looked around the room. “Mural board, balloon animals, pillow fight kid-style, and then cake and punch. I think we’re ready.”

  Tom set down the marker he was using. He picked up one of the long red balloons. “You have enough balloons to equip an army.”

  She peered into the plastic trash bag beside her. “Probably.”

  “How many are coming to this party?”

  Jennifer looked over at her partner, who was setting out the plates and paper cups. “What’s the current count, Amy? Twelve?”

  “Maybe fourteen, if Kim and her brother come.”

  Tom twisted the balloon into a circle hat and plopped it on Jennifer’s head. “I need to run upstairs for a minute and get a file before I return a call. Anything else you need before the kids arrive?”

  “I’m set. Thanks for the help.”

  “Oh, I’ll be back. I’m not going to do all this work, then miss out on the fun.”

  By noon the party was breaking up. Standing in the doorway to see her kids safely off, Jennifer accepted a child’s hug, whispered a happy birthday and got a giggle in return. She offered a handshake to the girl’s brother, a patient of hers in his own right, and the one who had suggested the party. “See you later, Franklin.”

  “Bye, Doc. This was nice. She had a good time.”

  “I did too.”

  She turned to the next child. Cake icing had mixed with face paint on Gregory’s face. She wiped it off, exchanged his version of soft high fives, and watched, pleased as he headed toward his mom to show off the picture Franklin had helped him create, the special boot he wore not slowing him down at all. The party was a huge success if measured by the kids’ fun.

  Jennifer surveyed the room after the last child was out the door and reached for a box to start the cleanup. The best parties inevitably left the most bits and pieces behind. She scooped up little pillows to save for the next pillow fight.

  Tom was collapsed on the floor in the middle of the conference room. She stepped over him and reached for another of the pillows. “Admit it. I throw a super party.” He’d returned as promised, giving her his entire morning.

  “Yes, you do throw a super party.” He reached for one of the pillows and tossed it to her. “The kids had a good time.” His smile faded. “How many of them are cancer survivors?”

  She picked up a balloon that now looked more like a blob than an animal. “Most of them.”

  She sat down on the floor besid
e him and brushed a piece of cake icing off his sleeve. “Thanks for helping today. It was useful having another guy around. They seemed to like you.”

  “I was surrounded by giggling, adoring little girls who wanted to meet the doctor their beloved Jennifer talks about. It was good for my ego, if not my social skills—I have no idea what most of them were talking about when it came to things they liked.”

  “You’re getting old.”

  “You don’t have to sound so amused about that.” He sat up, took the balloon and untwisted it to fix it back to a recognizable animal. “I talked to your partner Steve about seeing patients with you on occasion,” he mentioned, his focus on the balloon.

  Jennifer blinked at the casual comment, then smiled at him. “Did you? What did he say?”

  “He laughed, but then said he didn’t see any problems with the idea, since I’ve already got the insurance coverage with my own practice. Give him a week or so to do the paperwork and I’m an affiliated member of your partnership, free to stop by anytime. I was thinking some Monday when you do office appointments and my surgery schedule is free, I’d come hang around awhile and meet some more of your kids. A few months from now, if you catch a cold or something and need a day off work, maybe I’ll know your patients well enough to cover appointments for you.”

  “I admit I like the idea. I’m just surprised you would want to shift some of your time like that.”

  “I miss general practice, the ear infections and throat tickles and skinned knees from falls. And I’m tired of seeing you only when our work schedules give us a few hours off in common. This way I solve both problems.” He turned his head and studied her a bit more closely. “What are you thinking about so hard?”

  She didn’t want to say, for it would simply make her blush more. She turned over the box she held and buried him with little pillows.

  4

  It had been too wet to appreciate Tom’s backyard and deck during her last visit to his home. Tonight it wasn’t a problem. Jennifer stepped up onto the deck, back from their walk through his neighborhood park. “I can see why you love this. It’s gorgeous out here.”