Jennifer's Garden (40 page)

“You’re being negative.”

“Realistic,” she defended, but evaded Sam’s disapproval with the close of her eyes.  A great team.  Partners.  Could she really envision a future with him?

Did they have enough in common?  Did they have similar values?  Did they want the same things out of life?

“Don’t give up, Jen.  It’s not what your mom would have wanted.  She understood life is worth living.  It’s at least worth a try.”

Fidgeting with the stem of her glass, Jennifer struggled against the onslaught of emotion.  It was exactly what her mother wanted.  She wanted her to find happiness.  She wanted her to know true love.

Beatrice Hamilton understood that sometimes, true love defied convention, yet survived the odds.  True love prevailed.

“Are you afraid he’ll turn you down?”

“It’s a possibility,” she said, a quiver stealing into her voice.

“So is the part where he says yes, and takes you into his arms, makes mad passionate love to you.”

Vivid images from her dream came flooding back, mixing with memories of their real-life kiss.  Powerful yearning pulled.  That was her greatest hope, her greatest desire.  Evading Sam’s heated knowing gaze, Jennifer glanced away.

More than she had ever wanted it before, more than she could believe it herself, she wanted to be held in his arms again and finish that kiss—all the way to physical completion.

She wanted Jackson Montgomery mentally, emotionally and physically. 
But could it really happen
?

Apprehension, excitement, fear and naked desire skirted through her making a total mess of her insides.  More than a dream come true, it would be the best of all possible worlds.

Jennifer’s beeper pierced the quiet of early morning.  Stationed by her mother’s side, she grabbed the pager from her waistband.  Heart pounding, she pressed the green button.  The number displayed.

It was the service.  Catching her breath, she reoriented to her location. 
Why were they calling her?
  She peered at her mother.  Undisturbed, she lay peaceful; a lifeless remnant trapped in placid suffering.

Her eyes dropped to the pager in hand.  She needed to inform them the pages had come to her in error.  She heaved a sigh.  Now.

It might be important.

Jennifer covered her mother’s hand with her own and gave a light squeeze.  This would only take a minute.  She’d be right back.  Rising abruptly, she grabbed her cell phone and headed out into the hallway for privacy.

The sudden realization hit.  Privacy from comatose?  There was no need.  Jennifer swallowed the bitter dose of reality and dialed the number.  Her mother’s life shouldn’t end this way; dragging through the days, oblivious to those around her.  It felt more insult than blessing.

An operator answered on the second ring.  “This is Dr. Hamilton.  You paged me, but I’m off call.  You need to send it to one of my partners.”

“I’m sorry Dr. Hamilton,” came the polite reply, “but we were asked by your office to page you specifically.”

“Me?”  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  “What for?”

“There’s an emergency at Baptist Hospital.  The E.R. asked to page you, stat.”

“Who told you to call me with this?”

“Dr. Miller.”

Why would he do that
? she wondered almost aloud.  Senior partner, he knew where she was.  There must be a reason.  A good one.  “Okay,” she said, not bothering to disguise her fatigue.  “Give me the number.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

The operator rattled it off and Jennifer dialed.

“E.R.”

“This is Dr. Hamilton.  You paged me?”

“Yes, Dr. Hamilton.  We have a patient of yours on the way to the E.R., as we speak.  Cardiac arrest.  The family has requested you be notified.”

“Who?”

“Bronson.”

It didn’t sound familiar.  Normally a rolodex of memory, her mind couldn’t locate this one.  She glanced around the quiet corridor, moving aside as a gentleman wheeled a cart filled with the first round of breakfast trays.  He acknowledged her with a silent nod.

“Are you sure they’re asking for me?”

“Positive.  The guy is adamant.  He wants no one touching her, but you.  And the situation is acute.  It sounds like she needs immediate intervention.”

She hesitated, but only for a minute.  “Page Dr. Miller for me.  Tell him I’m on my way.”

Grabbing her purse from her mother’s bedside, she placed a soft kiss on her forehead and whispered goodbye.  “I love you.”  Lingering only a second or two, Jennifer hurried out of the room.

On her way out of Fairhaven, she informed the nursing staff of her plans and how to reach her, should anything change.

Driving to the hospital, she called the hospital and gathered information.  Bronson was a young woman, late thirties, with a family history of cardiac arrest.

It was a classic story.  Jennifer heard risk factor, near sudden death, time was of the essence.  Next, she called the cath lab and placed them on notice.

Mind whirring at high speed as she plowed through a side entrance, she ran through potential complications; how much damage was done to the heart, cardiogenic shock, arrhythmias, the amount of underlying heart disease, calcification...

Hustling down a wide corridor, she pushed through double doors leading to the emergency room.  The collision jarred them both.  Jennifer gaped in disbelief.  “Jackson!  What are you doing here?”

Stark fear scored ridges deep into brown eyes, his expression shocked blank.

“
Jax
?”  When he didn’t utter a word, she hesitated, but only for a second.  Professionalism kicked in, launching her body into action.  There was no time to waste.  She shoved her personal affairs aside and hurried into the emergency room.

It wasn’t until she realized he was following at her heel that it made sense.  Stopping at the edge of the bed, she whirled around.  “She’s with
you
?”

Jax nodded.  A look of pure desperation poured from his eyes.

His response knocked the wind from her chest. 
It explained the page
.  Glancing back to the attractive blonde with a tube stuck down her throat, a blood pressure cuff pumping to life on her upper arm, it was clear she was in serious trouble.

And just as clear she was with Jax.

“Pressure’s 130 over 90.  Rate’s a hundred and fifteen.”

Jennifer grappled for reason. 
How could this be
?  With her mother in a coma, her engagement in ruins, Jax’s dying girlfriend shows up at the hospital and she’s supposed to save her?

She scanned the faces around the bed. 
Was this a bad dream?  A cruel joke?

She snapped back to the situation at hand.  Enough.  No more dreams, no more fantasy.  This was her life.  “Talk to me.  What have we got?”

“Thirty-six year old Caucasian female called 911 approximately seven a.m.,” the attending paramedic reeled off.  “She complained of a burning sensation in the abdomen.  Patient took two aspirin and experienced loss of consciousness before we arrived on scene at seven fourteen.  CPR performed immediately, but no pulse—patient shocked at 200 joules for successful defibrillation, then intubated.  IV access secured with one dose of Epi, administered on scene before stabilized and transported.  Non-smoker, no previous MI, family history of high cholesterol.  Father still living.  Mother deceased; cardiac arrest. Current medications; 40mg Atorvastatin, 81mg aspirin.  No known allergies.”

“V-tach!”

“Pressure’s dropping,” barked another nurse.  “Hundred over eighty-five!”

A frantic bleeping blasted from the monitor.

Jennifer registered the information.  This was definitely not a dream.  This was real.  This was bad. 
And she was expected to fix it
.

“She’s coding!”

Jennifer shut Jax out of her mind and clicked into rescue mode.  She had to focus every cell of her attention on this woman if she was going to save her life.  “Defib!” she commanded.

Nurses flew around the patient, pulled handles from a machine and called back, “Defib’s charged.”

“Stand back.”

Everyone moved as paddles were slapped to the woman’s sides.  “Clear!”

The patient’s body leaped from the bed as the first shock was administered.  The furious pace of the ECG line swept up, then down, reduced to a flat nothing.

Seconds passed like years for Jennifer. 
C’mon, c’mon
.

Ready to shock again, the line spontaneously jumped back to life.  “Cath lab ready?” Jennifer asked to no one in particular.

“Yes, doctor.”

“Get her prepped.”  Jennifer turned in place and came face to face with the ashen expression of Jackson Montgomery.  It cut through her heart like a knife to see him so afraid, so desperate.  It was obvious he cared deeply.

She shoved her emotions into a back compartment and slammed the lid closed.  This was a patient.  He was the closest person to her.  She had to move on.  “It’s bad.  I need to open up her arteries, get some blood flowing into the heart.” 
Or she will die.

Frozen, he managed a meek nod of his head.

The faraway look in his eyes reminded Jennifer of a child.  Helpless, powerless, he was completely out of his element.  Resisting the urge to stay, and counsel him through the details, she couldn’t. 
There wasn’t time
.

Tamping down her desire to comfort, ambivalence shooting through her system, she turned back to her team.  “Let’s get moving.”

# # #

“Use extra tape to secure the dressing,” Jennifer instructed, wanting double precaution against infection—like the kind that killed Jax’s mother.  Losing another loved one to post-op infection might throw him over the edge.

It would her.

Stepping back, Jennifer allowed room for a nurse to move in and take over breakdown of the sterile environment.  Yanking blue paper from posts, the younger woman started talking to the patient.  “Ms. Bronson, can you hear me?  The procedure’s over.”

Pulling the gloves from her hands, Jennifer dragged the mask from her face.  It was time to talk with the family.

Or in this case, loved one.

Jennifer inhaled a chest full of courage, and slowly, purposefully, exhaled her anxiety.  It was time to talk with Jax.  Pushing through the lab door en route to the waiting room, her stomach cramped into a mass of knots.

You can do this
.  She’s just another patient.  He’s just another—

Jax rose from a chair the minute she opened the door.  A heavyset man in the corner looked up in unison.

Jennifer locked eyes with Jax.

“How is she?”

Always the first question.  “Jax,” she began, her professionalism giving way in one fluid breath of nerves. 
Who was she kidding
?

This was personal.

And painful.

“Is she going to be all right?”  It was more plea than question.  As if his entire future hung on her answer, and he was afraid it would be wrong.  He ventured closer, the movement alien to his usual ease and confidence.

“Yes.”

One little word, he visibly crumbled with relief.  Apprehension was replaced by joy.  So obviously happy, he didn’t try to hide his tears.

“Thank God...”

And it broke her heart.  Everything she would never have seemed to crystallize before her very eyes.  With one moment, the kiss that should never have been, the friendship that moved too far into her heart...

Tears threatened her façade of cool.  Jax would never be hers.  He was taken.  Unavailable; consumed with the welfare of another.

“I think she’s going to be fine,” Jennifer said, pressed with a driving need to quell the emotion churning inside.  She’ll be fine.  You’ll be fine.  Everyone will be fine. 
Just fine.

“Thank you.”

The raw gratitude in his voice caught in her throat, lodging high and tight.  She couldn’t speak.  She couldn’t move.  They stood in silence, separated by a chasm of loss.  Despite the stranger’s presence in the room, she and Jax were alone.

Her heart teemed with grief.  She understood his pain.  She could identify with his fear.  She could console him—if only they were standing on the same side of suffering.

But they weren’t.  Jax felt miles out of her reach.  He was not hers.  Never had been she reminded herself, a touch of anger trickling into her heart.  It was stupid of her to have believed otherwise.

Courting chance is a game for fools.  The odds stacked against her, she made a ridiculous bet, and lost.

The house always wins.

“She’s got a tough road ahead of her, but she’s young and strong and I think she can make it.”  She hated that her voice fell short of her usual crisp, competent tone, but these were unusual circumstances.