Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady) (16 page)

It was much more than that. She was the one woman in the world who belonged at his side. Forever.

She had to get better. The thought of a life without her— he swallowed a lump that he knew was tears. He wanted her alive, alert, fighting him if she had to. As long as she was alive, there was a chance that somehow they might be together.

Could the poison still reach her diaphragm, paralyzing it and causing her breath to stop?

At the hospital, she was taken from him. He had to force himself to let her go, knowing she needed the care of doctors and nurses, yet desperately afraid that he would never see her again.

A woman in a white uniform pushed his long form into a chair, seated herself behind a keyboard and demanded,

“Name?”

Barely concentrating, he answered automatically, “Jake Austin.”

“Not your name! The patients’ – first, the blonde woman. The one who isn’t breathing.”

Dear God, that sounded ominous! What if Jennifer— he forced himself to concentrate, said, “George – Georgina Dobson.” But her name was almost all he knew. He couldn’t answer any of the other questions asked by the records clerk.

“We have to know about medical insurance – how long has she resided in BC?”

“I’ve no idea,” Jake said helplessly. “You’ll have to wait for that.”

“If she’s not a resident, she’ll have to—” The woman hesitated, continued, “Someone will have to pay for her hospital stay. She’s not covered by hospital insurance unless—”

“I’ll pay,” he said impatiently. “Could you please find out how they’re doing? What was the doctor’s name?”

The woman printed the multi-copy form and presented it for his signature, then sat back behind the monitor, asking about Jennifer.

Jennifer. My God! What if she stopped breathing while this woman was asking him foolish questions? He should be with her, he had to be where he could see her, know she was still breathing, that she hadn’t left him forever.

“Her birth date?” repeated the woman impatiently.

He didn’t even know when Jennifer’s birthday was! How could she work for him for five years, as closely and intimately as they had worked together, and he not even know her birthday? She must have come to work on her birthdays, and he had driven her – as always – to give everything to his films, and he hadn’t once said ‘Happy Birthday’.

Eventually, he was released from the small office and permitted to pace back and forth across a waiting room until a tiny, dark-haired woman in uniform came and said softly, “Hi, Jake. Can I get you a cup of coffe?”

He stared at the Haida nurse and she said, “I’m Donna. Remember me, Jake?”

“Donna – of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Do you know how they are? Is Jennifer all right?”

“Mrs. Dobson is pretty bad. She’s in intensive care – I shouldn’t be telling you that, but the doctor is with her, working over her. The other one—”

He asked, “Jennifer?” and stood very still, hardly breathing until she answered.

“She’ll be all right. The doctor looked at her and he says she couldn’t have gotten very much. Was it clams or muscles?”

“Clams. She said she had three.”

“Lucky for her. That’s the first anyone’s heard of Red Tide over there. Last year there was a bad bunch taken on Langara Island – luckily, no one died of it.” She glanced at a paper in her hand, and said, “The fisheries officer called. He wants to talk to you – I’ve got the number for you to call.”

“You’re sure Jennifer’s all right?” He glanced down at the slip of paper she handed him. “Word gets around fast, doesn’t it? All right. I’ll call him later. Right now, could I see—”

She shook her head regretfully. “Jake, they won’t let anyone in to see Mrs. Dobson. She’s in intensive care. Until she’s stabilized—”

“Can I see Jennifer?”

“Well—” She looked over her shoulder, then said warily, “The doctor might prefer her not to be disturbed.”

“Please, Donna?” He had to see for himself, know she was all right. He found himself pleading, promising, “I’ll stay out of the way.”

“Oh, all right.” Donna grimaced. “You’ll drive us all nuts if you keep prowling around the waiting room. Come on, I’ll take you.”

For perhaps the first time in his adult life, he was conscious of trying to walk softly, quietly, into the room where Jennifer was sleeping. Her face looked terribly pale, the blankets tucked tightly over her still form.

“Are you sure she’s all right?” he whispered as Donna swept the curtain aside and let Jake in beside her bed.

“She’s breathing, isn’t she? Nothing will happen now – if it’s going to get her, it comes quickly. She has to sleep it off. Now sit quietly, Jake, and don’t cause me any trouble.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

“Better not,” she threatened, grinning swiftly. “I remember what a terror you were. You were always in trouble in the village.”

“I’ve reformed,” he insisted and she laughed as if she knew better.

Then, finally, he was alone with Jennifer.

On one side of the bed, a stand held a plastic sac of saline solution, a tube leading down to the needle in the back of her hand. He stared at it, seeing the needle going into her skin where it peeked out from the tape on her arm. He hated to think of her dependent on that fluid for her well-being. Was she really all right, or had Donna—

She had to be all right. He couldn’t bear to think of any other possibility.

Jake moved the chair to the other side of the bed, drew it close. She would have a bruise on her hand when the needle came out. He knew how easily she bruised. Once, she had stumbled outside his studio. He had caught roughly at her arm with his hand, afraid she would tumble down the long stairs. For a second she’d been close to him. He’d breathed in the tantalizing scent of her, his arm moving to draw her closer as she’d stepped away.

The next day, she had come to work wearing a blouse that concealed the purple bruise until she lifted her arm and the fabric fell away.

When he tried to apologize, she had shaken her head and thanked him from saving her from a bad fall. Her long hair had fallen across her face, concealing her eyes from him.

Now, the hair was short, curling softly around her head, leaving her face vulnerable and exposed. Her lips parted and she made a soft noise deep in her throat as her head moved restlessly on the white pillow.

When he covered her small white hand with his, her fingers curled loosely around his thumb. He stared at her pale fingers, wondering if she would ever put her hand in his willingly, freely.

If only she would open her eyes, see him!

He sat quietly, watching her, sometimes staring through the window near her bed. He watched the cloudy sky turn from blue to red, remembering all the words they had said to each other over the last five years, all the times when he’d almost come close to her.

Last week, on the beach near Tow Hill, she’d lain in his arms while he pretended to sleep. He’d felt her body so soft and trusting against his. He’d ached to draw her even closer, to cover her lips with his and draw a response from her. To love her, to touch and caress and take the loneliness away from her.

He’d been wrong to hire Hans. At the time, he’d thought it would help, putting a barrier between them.

He’d created a barrier all right, but it hadn’t helped. Seeing less of Jennifer hadn’t made him want her less. If he’d been honest with himself back then, faced the fact that he loved her, he might have been able to do something to win her.

 
When Donna returned, she found Jake still sitting, his hand entangled with Jennifer’s.

“I brought you coffee. I didn’t know what you take – cream and sugar?”

“Thanks, Donna.” He remembered her now, a small girl from the village. She’d lived in the house below his grandfather’s. He asked, “How’s Daniel?”

“He’s still fishing. Fishing’s not so good any more. A few years ago, the herring was big, but now it’s down to almost nothing. We’ve got three sons now, you know.”

Jake nodded, though he hadn’t known.

“Come and see us. We’re in the village. Bring her, too.” Donna nodded towards Jenny. “What’s her name?”

“Jenny. She likes to be called Jenny.”

He sipped the coffee awkwardly, not wanting to let her hand go. He had to practice that in his mind. Jenny – not Jennifer. Why had she never told him before?

Visiting hours must have come. Outside the curtain, he heard voices, someone talking to the woman in the bed on the other side of the room. The doctor came, pushing a thin hand through his thinning hair, then taking Jenny’s hand from Jake’s grasp and staring at her face as he took her pulse, bending to lift her eyelid.

“Is she all right?” Jake asked nervously.

“She’s lucky,” he growled. “The other one – Mrs. Dobson – is having a rough haul. I think she’s going to make it.”

“Thank God,” murmured Jake. George seemed a nice woman and he wouldn’t have wanted her to die of the poison, but he couldn’t help being thankful that it hadn’t been Jenny who made a big feed of the clams.

“You may as well go home,” the doctor announced. “She won’t wake up for hours yet.”

“I’d rather stay.” Jake took possession of her hand again, looked up at the doctor with a determined glint in his eye. The doctor shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he said as if he were too tired to oppose Jake.

Jake half expected someone to come and try to evict him at the end of visiting hours. No one did.

After a time, he dozed in the chair, waking with a sudden jolt of alarm, sitting up and staring intently at Jenny. He’d been dreaming, the fantasy tangled with reality. In his dream, Jennifer had stopped breathing, not responding to his futile, desperate attempts to revive her. In reality, she was breathing softly, her mouth slightly open.

He looked up and found his aunt standing at the end of the bed, her beautiful black hair glistening down her back, her sharp black eyes taking in everything. She was only ten years older than him, but he remembered how she had always been the one to know when he was misbehaving as a youngster.

“Hello, Violet.” He spoke softly. “How did you know I was here?”

“Laurie phoned me.”

“Laurie Mather? The radio announcer?” He grinned ruefully. “Am I a news item?”

Violet shook her head, smiling and sending the black hair flowing. “She’s married to the pilot that flew you today.”

“Luke?” He looked down at Jenny, tried to concentrate on the people his aunt was talking about. “Luke Lucas? Didn’t I hear a radio piece last year with his name on it a couple of years ago?”

“Laurie did that – on a rescue operation she and Luke were involved in. Search for a downed seaplane. That’s when she met Luke.”

Violet had the secret smile of someone who could tell a story, but wasn’t going to. Jake frowned, trying to tie together threads of his knowledge of island people. “I thought Laurie was engaged to Ken McDonald?”

“You’ve been too long away from home, Jake. For a local, you’re out of touch with us.”

“Yes,” he admitted, his eyes going back to Jennifer.

Violet’s eyes noted his hand tangled with Jenny’s. She said, “I saw a film you did last week – the tourism one.”

“The sights of Vancouver? Yes?”

He watched his aunt shake her head slowly, the glorious, glistening black hair rippling over her shoulders. “It made me sad, Jake. There was no art in that piece. Not like before. You used to do films, drawings – whatever you did had meaning.”

He looked down at Jennifer, sleeping on the hospital bed. “She said the same thing,” he murmured. “She accused me of being too ambitious, too commercial.”

“You’re Haida,” his aunt said with a stern, soft voice. “Haida have always been artists.”

He said, “I’m only half Haida,” and Violet laughed.

“I’m sure none of us are pure blood any more, Jake, but don’t ever forget that the Haida is the best half.”

Her dark eyes traveled from his face, down to where his brown hand enfolded Jennifer’s white one on the blanket. She was smiling now.

“She’s your woman? It’s about time.”

About time. His hand tightened on Jennifer’s. She was breathing a little more rapidly now. In a few hours he thought she would wake. Then he had to start trying to make her see that they belonged together. Violet was right. It was about time, for both of them.

His love was afraid of loving, afraid of being hurt. He’d have to teach her, somehow, that she could trust herself to him.

The women couldn’t have helped. He’d been dating one woman after another in an attempt to get his mind off Jennifer – no, that wasn’t all. He’d kept hoping to see some sign of jealousy.

Stupid, especially considering her distrust of love and men. Telling her that he intended to marry Monica couldn’t have helped either. She must be thoroughly convinced that he was a philanderer, intending to marry Monica, yet chasing after Jennifer – surely she must realize by now that he wanted more than to get her back to work?

He looked down at Jennifer’s sleeping form. It had been close. A few more clams, and if he’d arrived a few minutes later…

His world without Jennifer.

“It’s not so simple as that,” he said wryly, answering his aunt at last. She laughed softly.

“It never is, Jake.”

The sleeping girl shifted. He felt her hand tighten in his. Soon she would awaken and pull her hand away.

Had it mattered to her, when he said he was going to marry Monica?
Yes, I probably will,
he’d told her, succumbing to a sudden need to know if she would care.

He knew her well enough now to know that if she did care, she would have retreated, stepped back, run away from anything she might feel for him.

And she
had
left, quickly and abruptly, leaving Jake bewildered and shocked at the extent to which he missed her.

He’d wanted her for a long time. Once he had thought it was her aloofness that kept him attracted, but now he knew it was more than that. Perhaps, subconsciously, he had always known.

There would be no other women now, only Jennifer – Jenny. It would take time, but he could be patient when he needed to be. If only he could find a way to keep her near, to give him the time he needed.