Wedding Date with the Army Doc

by Lynne Marshall

  Before she could form another thought her cell rang. It was Jackson.

  “I just heard Jim Gordon left the extended care facility for home. Maybe we should go visit him this evening.”

  “I’m not sure if his family would want that, but I want to.”

  “I’ll give a call, let you know.”

  “Thank you.” She had a stack of slides fresh from histology to study from Saturday’s surgeries, and though her heart and thoughts were with her mentor, out of respect for him she knew his department needed to carry on.

  After work, Ely had given the okay for a visit, so Jackson drove as Charlotte let several scenarios play out in her thoughts, though she never expected the scene they found when they arrived.

  Dr. Gordon was sitting in an obviously favorite chair, judging by the wear and tear on it, and how perfectly the man fit into it, too. He gave an ethereal smile, his skin ghostly white. “Hello, dear.”

  She bent to kiss him on the cheek, which felt warmer than he looked. “Did you have to pull some strings to move home?”

  No longer a curmudgeon, his gaze more impish now, he smiled. “Ely and Sharon are staying with me for a while.” He officially introduced Charlotte to his son and daughter-in-law. “The hospital decided I was in as good hands here as there. At much less cost to them!”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Ely was a younger version of his dad with thinner eyebrows, though a bit taller with a friendlier face, and personality-wise, probably thanks to his mother’s input, less off-putting. He hovered around his father, and Sharon seemed to sense her father-in-law’s every need. Beyond giving him all the care and attention he’d require over the next few weeks, they radiated something that couldn’t be faked—love for him.

  Knowing her mentor would be surrounded by family and seeing how at peace he seemed, being back home, helped ease her worry about the significance of the move. No one mentioned the term “hospice care,” and there wasn’t a sign of medical equipment in the living room. Charlotte hoped for the best.

  “I’ve asked Jerry Roth to take over as department head,” he said. “There’ll be a memo going out tomorrow.”

  So much for hope. Her heart ached at the news and what it might imply.

  “He’ll do a great job,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. Jerry was the logical replacement—though she hated thinking that word—being the second most senior in Pathology at St. Francis of the Valley. Even with her foolish hope lagging, she wanted to reassure Dr. Gordon about his choice. “He’s been steady as a rock while you’ve been in the hospital.” Sitting nearby, Jackson subtly took her hand and squeezed his support.

  “When I come back, it’ll only be part-time.”

  The emotional teeter-totter had her sitting straighter. “You’re coming back?” She couldn’t suppress her surprise and happy relief, and for a man who didn’t do impish, she could have sworn he savored playing her.

  “I’ve been officially deemed in remission.” As much as it went against his nature, her mentor beamed. “Don’t know how long it will hold, but I’m feeling stronger every day, and hopefully, with Sharon’s healthy cooking and the company of my son and friends like you, I’ll be back in shape in no time at all.”

  “That’s fantastic news, Jim.” Jackson spoke up, a sincere smile on his face.

  “Thanks. I’m just being realistic about not taking on too much when I come back.”

  “Wise of you,” Jackson said.

  Elated, and grinning to prove it, except probably sending a mixed message with the tears that had simultaneously cropped up, Charlotte clapped her hands. “I can’t wait.”

  “To be honest, I can’t either. I need a purpose besides being a pincushion and lab rat.”

  After a long drawn-out hug, and Charlotte realizing that the move and their visit may have taxed Dr. Gordon, she decided it was time to leave. But first, remembering all the things she’d wished she’d said to her mother during her ordeal, before it was too late, in case she never got the chance, she sat on the ottoman where Dr. Gordon’s feet rested. Having him captive, she looked into his eyes.

  “It’s been hard, not having my mentor around these last few weeks. I want you to know how much you’ve taught me and how special you are to me. How much I still need you.” She took his bony hand. “I’ve kind of put you on a pedestal, sometimes wishing you’d been my dad.” She glanced up at Ely, noticing his approving smile. “I’m a better doctor because of you, and since I can’t exactly go around saying this at work, I want you to know I love you.”

  He tightened his frail grip in hers. “Thank you. You’re very special to me, too. Now quit worrying about me. You know my motto: life shouldn’t be about what might happen, it’s—”

  Ely and Sharon joined in on the last part of the phrase, clueing Charlotte in that it really was a saying he lived by. “It’s about what’s happening right here and now.”

  She studied the man in his comfy chair, back in the home he’d made with his wife of fifty years before she’d died, his son and daughter-in-law like bookends on either side of him. Him being there “right here and now” looked pretty darned sweet, so she said good night and they left.

  Moved by the warm and squishy moment that had just occurred inside Dr. Gordon’s house, Jackson stopped Charlotte before they reached the car. “I’ve got a wedding to attend back home in Georgia next month, late August. Would you do me the honor of being my guest?”

  Surprise registered in her eyes, and she didn’t answer right away.

  “I figure if Jim comes back on the job part-time, you should be able to take a few days off.” He opened the car door and let her slip inside, then walked around and got in, still waiting for her answer but not quite ready to hear it. “Before you make your decision, let me just say it’s because we’ve got really close and I was hoping you’d come with me. The truth is, I’d feel better confronting the mess I left behind with you at my side.”

  “I’d love to go.”

  It was his turn to be surprised, especially because of the poor excuse he’d given for wanting her there with him. As backup? What had he been thinking? “You would? I didn’t mean to imply you’d be a crutch or anything.”

  “I understand.”

  “Really?” Over the last few weeks he’d grown to know Charlotte’s body as well as his own, and he marveled over that gift. Since they’d started dating, he knew her intelligence was both a source of challenge and comfort. They understood each other. Hell, he’d torn a page right out of Jim Gordon’s rule book to help convince her to give him a chance: Right here, right now. To hell with the future. Her warm and loving attitude seemed a gift from heaven, yet she’d just dazzled him again by being so willing to step into his past without knowing how bad it could be.

  “Yes. I’d love to go.”

  How much more proof did he need about how special she was? “Well, in that case, I think it’s about time you met my son.”

  Charlotte snuggled into Jackson’s arms in her bed after making love later that night. Being tall, it took a lot to make her feel petite, but his broad shoulders and long frame did just that. Now that her personal shock of having a double mastectomy had barely made waves for him, often, when they were just staying in and hanging out, she’d walk around in a T-shirt or sweater without strapping on her bra, her chest as flat as his. And it didn’t faze him. He’d been the one to suggest it after the first time they’d been together. She considered that freedom a special gift from him. He really had proved to be the perfect imperfect man for her.

  Just before she drifted off to sleep, one last thought crossed her mind: how life was looking up. Her mentor was in remission, the new guy in her life had just asked her to a wedding in his hometown, which proved he trusted her with a fragile part of his life. And now he wanted her to meet his son. She couldn’t help but feel spe
cial. Yet he’d never come close to saying those three little words.

  The big question was, was it safe to get her hopes up? Maybe he was just a guy like the rented furniture in his condo, temporary, useful for now, nothing to take for granted. He’d been very clear about never wanting to marry again or to have any more kids. Now that she knew the full story, she understood, too. He’d moved to California to be near his son, who would eventually graduate from college and move on. Why would Jackson stick around after that?

  But right from the start, having laid down a few personal safety rules of her own for Jackson, like taking it slow before jumping into a physical relationship, she knew how easily a rule could be broken. Tonight that fact fed her hope.

  * * *

  Jackson was on his way out of the lunchtime surgical conference when he saw Dr. Dupree across the room. He’d had something on his mind and made a point to confront him.

  “Dr. Hilstead. You need something?” Antwan was in the middle of sharing a recent conquest with a young resident.

  “Yes, if you have a minute?”

  The long-haired resident took the cue—in fact, looked relieved—and headed out of the auditorium with everyone else.

  “I just wanted to let you know that Charlotte and I are a thing now, so you can step back.”

  “A thing?”

  “Yeah, we’re a thing.”

  “She knows this?”

  “Most definitely. Anyway, you can step back now.”

  “Step back?”

  “Yes, step back.” Jackson emphasized the words for the guy who seemed to be playing dense.

  “Sometimes ladies don’t know what they’re missing until they’ve tried it.” His overconfident smile grated on Jackson’s nerves. Was it a challenge? He also knew the jerk was referring to himself, Antwan, not Jackson, so he decided to spell it out for him.

  “Trust me, she’s tried it and liked it. I’m asking you nicely to leave her alone.” Was he on the verge of flapping his arms and making monkey noises? My territory. Leave!

  “If that’s what she wants, fine.”

  Jackson stared at the dense doctor long and hard. But he didn’t dare say the words that had just been planted front and center in his head. She’s mine. That would make him feel a bit like he’d traveled back in time to a more dramatic stage, high school or college, when guys got all wrapped up in their women and proudly staked their claim. He was a mature adult now, in midlife, sophisticated and above getting into the fray. Yet feeling the intense need to make his point perfectly clear with a womanizing bozo like Dupree couldn’t be denied, and it shocked him.

  Where had that come from? What had happened to the civilized forty-two-year-old surgeon? He bit back the long list of things he’d like to say, deciding to go for terse. “It’s what she wants. We want.” Like he had the right to speak for Charlotte, as Antwan had already insinuated. But it was. It was what he wanted. And he was pretty sure she wanted it, too.

  He turned to leave, deciding to let Antwan figure out for himself what that meant, thinking the Southern gentleman-turned-caveman was a welcome change. He’d just publicly admitted he and Charlotte were “a thing,” whatever the hell that meant.

  The revelation of admitting he had intense feelings again on any level, and in this case for someone else—for his lovely Charlotte—made him grin. He left the meeting feeling taller than when he’d arrived, though admittedly he glanced over his shoulder for any evidence of a feminist posse hot on his trail for daring to be the tiniest bit chauvinistic. That didn’t stop him from grinning, though.

  * * *

  That Friday night, Evan turned out to be tall, like his father, with piercing blue eyes, but much fairer and with lighter, straighter hair. From this Charlotte deduced that Jackson’s ex was a blonde. She let her insecure imagination go wild and envisioned a stereotypical image of a pretty petite Southern belle, a Georgia peach, as she’d heard it called. The thought made her cringe and hurt all over. But she’d thought about all she and Jackson had shared over the last several weeks, and how close they’d got. Then on the spot she decided it was better to be the extreme opposite from an ex—tall, olive-toned skin, dark hair and eyes, big-boned—than a dead ringer. Wasn’t it?

  Occasionally during dinner the strained dynamics between Evan and Jackson were evident, but only on certain topics, like the wedding and whether or not Evan planned to go. They agreed that Evan should fly out a few days early to spend time with his mother and brother, and as an observer the decision lifted a weight from Charlotte’s heart.

  Didn’t they know that they had the same laugh? A few times she had to double-check who had said what because they sounded so much alike, too. The kid was his son, there was no doubt, and they shared a lifetime together, well, Evan’s lifetime, anyway. And she suspected the same would be true with the older son, the one who’d yet to offer Jackson a touch of grace. They shared genetic traits and familial similarities, and no matter how hard Andrew might try to ignore it, there was no way to forget it. Again, her heart ached for Jackson and his troubles.

  As the evening moved on over tapas and beer at yet another trendy Westlake restaurant, Charlotte realized something important. When they talked about Evan’s Bachelor of Arts major at Pepperdine, excitement radiated from the nineteen-year-old, and fatherly pride was obvious in Jackson’s eyes, which were decidedly sexier and bluer than his son’s. Then again, she was biased. She quickly figured how to keep the conversation focused on university and life dreams, and soon Evan seemed to see her as an ally instead of an adversary—the woman threatening to take his father away from him.

  She made it clear how important she felt a well-rounded liberal arts degree was to send a person out into the world. Evan couldn’t have agreed more. Jackson’s endorsement may have come in delayed, but he finally chimed in.

  After a couple of glasses of beer Charlotte let her truest thoughts slip out. “Thanks to science and extended longevity, what makes parents think their kids can know where their journey will lead at the ripe old age of nineteen?” Charlotte mused.

  “Exactly!” Evan agreed. The look of appreciation she received from the young man nearly melted her heart. One day he’d have the world at his calling, but he needed to first figure out where he belonged. Pressuring him to make up his mind too soon would never help.

  Then she glanced at Jackson, who didn’t appear nearly as impressed with her statement as his son.

  Evidently she’d hit a chord of contention between father and son, so she continued. “I mean, I know how I wanted to become a doctor at sixteen, and you, Jackson, probably had a similar experience, but not everyone knows for sure where they belong at such an early age. My sister tried going to college and discovered it wasn’t for her. Now she’s happy as a clam with three kids and running a family business.”

  She didn’t want to imply that Evan should drop out, so she quickly added, “Getting a solid, well-rounded education seems like the best step forward for most. Right, Evan?”

  Evan nodded.

  “I want the best for my sons. If Evan is happy with his major, then I’m happy.”

  Charlotte believed Jackson, because of all the men she’d met in her life, he had proved to be honest and dependable, someone to trust, and these were three characteristics at the top of her “perfect man” list.

  Before dinner was over Evan seemed to understand a little better where his father stood on his undergraduate degree choices, and Jackson had made extra points, proving he supported his son. Charlotte couldn’t help but think maybe she’d had something to do with it.

  Then, over dessert, the previously unspoken subject of Dad dating a new woman came up.

  “So I guess you two are dating, right?” Evan said. “And you want my approval?”

  Charlotte worked extra hard to not show her true reaction. Yes, we’re dating
, but beyond that I don’t know what’s in store. Do we need your approval for that?

  Jackson glanced at Charlotte, she glanced back, and then he reached for her hand under the table. “Now that Mom and I are divorced, I hope you’re okay with that.”

  “Hey, it’s your life.” Evan seemed to toss the answer a bit too quickly, maybe in an attempt to leave out the emotion behind it. Pain. “I mean, I know a lot’s gone on with your war injury and PTSD and all, and things didn’t work out between you and Mom, but, Dad, you’re entitled to pick up your life and date again.”

  Jackson reached across the table and clutched his son’s forearm. “You saying that means the world to me, Evan.”

  When they all said good night, Jackson gave Evan a bear hug, and Evan fully participated. The sight of the two of them hugging moved Charlotte nearly to tears, but she managed to keep her response in line, not wanting in any way to draw attention away from the big event of the night. Until, in true Southern charm fashion, Evan extended his hospitality to her and hugged her good night. As she hugged the bonier version of Jackson, managing to feel his sincerity, she couldn’t help the moisture that sneaked over her lids.

  “It was so great to meet you.” She said it over-enthusiastically, completely different from the response she’d intended to give. Cool. In control. Sophisticated. Really fun to meet you.

  Evan smiled and nodded, as though he was also surprised about how well the night had gone.

  On the drive home, overall Charlotte thought the meeting had gone well and that Evan seemed okay with his dad moving on. At least she hoped Evan was being honest. Though the question still remained—where exactly was Jackson moving on to?

  “What did you think?” Jackson asked.

  “I think you’ve got a great son on your hands.”

  While driving, he flashed her a grateful and reassured look. “I think you’re right.” Then, with his eyes back on the road, he added, “I’m really looking forward to the day Evan turns twenty-one and my job as parent will officially be over.”