Surge (St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders) Book 3: St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders (2 page)

One day she’d said, “I’m going to marry you.” She had an uncanny ability to predict future events. A sixth sense. It was almost scary.

He’d remembered Christmas week when the youngest St. Martin brother, Cal, was being an ass to his childhood nemesis, now his wife. Cal and Jackson had been hanging Christmas lights on the front porch of the estate while Clara had sat on the porch swing and hot-glued bows onto garland that was to go around the door.

“Do you like the red velvet bows or these glittery ones?” Clara held each in the air to help them decide.

Jackson pointed and said, “Velvet.”

“Glitter.” Cal said.

Clara harrumphed. “Fat lot of good you two are.”

Jackson chuckled. One of her legs dangled from the porch swing and gently rocked the seat. She wore an oversized, extremely purple LSU sweatshirt. Occasionally she’d look up and give Jackson a coy smile and he could just barely make out her dimples.

“I think the velvet is the better choice.”

“Of course you do—if Jackson suggested it, it must be so.” Cal mocked.

Clara frowned. “You’re just a bully Cal.”

Cal stuck his tongue out at her.

“Real mature. Is that what they’re teaching you in Physics 101?” Clara asked.

A white golf cart sputtered toward them. Clara set aside her garland and stood to wave. Chloe parked the cart and joined Clara on the swing.

“Merry Christmas.” Chloe said cheerfully.

Clara and Jackson returned her joyous offering while Cal frowned.

Chloe’s eyes scanned the porch finally resting on Cal. She rubbed her arms, “It’s really starting to feel like winter.”

“Don’t you have a jacket?” Cal snapped.

“I just came to ask if I could ride with you to the Smyth’s Christmas party.”

“How do you know I’m going?”

“You go every year. Mom said I could only go if you would bring me.”

“I’m not interested in babysitting your chastity all night. Plus there’s always a lot of tail there and I plan on getting down in my truck on the way home so unless you want to watch, you’re out of luck.”

Chloe grimaced, “Great I’ll just tell my mom that you’ll give me a ride if I sit third chair in your ménage à trois.”

Jackson tugged hard on the string of lights Cal held and the ladder rocked. Cal arched a brow at Jackson.

“Let me know what dear Mommy says.” Cal climbed from the ladder and continued to speak. “A little education may help you.” He walked up to Chloe at the swing and she stood. “It’s high time you were deflowered, it’s starting to get weird.”

Thwack
. Chloe’s hand connected with his cheek.

Clara jumped up and Jackson went toward her.

Cal’s hand palmed his cheek. “What the fuck Chloe?”

Tears streamed down her face. “I hate you,” she whispered and then she boarded the golf cart.

Next to him Clara’s hands fisted at her sides and she shot him a loathsome stare. Jackson placed his hand on her shoulder. “You want to go inside? I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“In a minute.”

She walked up to Cal and pointed with her index finger. “One day you’ll regret having treated her this way.”

“No I won’t.”

“Yeah, you will. If you go easy on her now, it’ll only help you later when you realize that you love her.”

Cal laughed. “That’s hilarious Clara. And I am helping her. Trust me she takes herself and that golden twat between her legs way too seriously.”

Clara gasped and covered her mouth with her hand while Jackson punched Cal in the arm.

“What the hell Jackson? Is this beat on Cal day? Shit.”

“How about going light on the sex talk in front of your
baby
sister. And the expletives for that matter.”

“Clara’s got six brothers, she’s heard it all.”

“I’ve never heard Jackson speak a swear word.” Clara said.

Cal’s brow furrowed as he looked from Clara to Jackson. “
I
have, so you can stop acting like he’s some kind of god.” Cal huffed off, his booted feet striking the floor with heavy thuds.

“I’d like to apologize for the male population.”

Clara shrugged. “He’s got some growing pains, but he will end up married to and completely gone on Chloe.”

Those particular memories with Clara and her family had Jackson smiling as he reclined on the couch in the pool house. He breathed deeply as he felt his eyelids grow heavy.

Clara had known there was a future for them too. One Sunday morning she’d come into Jackson’s room with a picture she’d made. Theirs was a large family, even by southern standards. There were seven St. Martin siblings including Clara, but she was the only girl. On her drawing there were eight children, along with her mom and dad. The girl was holding a boy’s hand. Above were the names Clara and Jackson.

“See this?” She pointed to the picture. “I’m going to marry you into the family.” She left the picture and started to walk out. “Breakfast is ready,” she called over her shoulder. He followed her down the stairs. Even back then her magnetism could not be denied.

Plush full lips caressed his forehead. “Bug.” He smiled. “What a wonderful way to wake from a nap.” He pulled her hand, forcing her down on top of him. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’ve been asleep for several hours. Are you feeling okay?” Her palm rested on his forehead.

“I’m fine. I just need to spend more time with you.” He smiled.

“I agree.” Her brilliant eyes closed as she placed a tender kiss on his lips. “It’s time to put on your suit. You and I have a date.”

He grumbled and frowned.

She giggled. “Are you going to harrumph all the way down the aisle?”

“It should be us.”

“You’re right, it should be.” He sucked on her lips.

“But I’m much too young for the likes of you.” She turned her nose to the air with a flourish.

“You’re an old soul. Besides, I’m southern. We like our women like we like our beef, fresh and young.”

Her brow furrowed. “Hmm, I’m not sure I appreciate being likened to a slab of meat.”

He took her earlobe between his lips and massaged before kissing behind the tender folds of skin. Her shoulders rose and a playful little giggle escaped.

Her eyes stormed into his. She tugged the fingers she had in his hair. “Let’s pretend it’s us getting married. After all you are my escort down the aisle.”

“We don’t have a ring.”

“We do.” She held up her right hand. “I have your promise ring.”

“That’s not a suitable wedding ring for the love of my life.” He grasped her hands and brought them to his lips.

When he released her hands she clasped them over her heart. “I love my ring.”

He sighed. “It’s a cheap ring. I want you to have a big diamond.”

“And I just want you.” Her hands went to his neck as she set her large blue jewels intently on him. “You
are
my big diamond.” Their mouths sealed in a kiss. Warm silken lips branded and comforted him.

His hands slid along her sides, feeling the smoothness of the purple gown she wore. The color making her eyes even more blue. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you.” She rained kisses on his lips, cheeks, and nose. “I have to go help the ladies into their dresses, but I wanted to wake you up. You need to get dressed too.”

Their attention was diverted by the opening of the door. A gasp filled the airwaves. Eve’s palm cupped her mouth.

Clara jumped from the couch and skipped over to Eve at the door. She pulled her inside and pushed the door closed. “Please, you can’t say anything.”

They both glanced at Jackson who was standing near them now. “Please.” He echoed.

“Oh my God, I just can’t believe it.” Her hand grasped Clara’s upper arm. “You’re so young.” She regarded Jackson, her eyes tightening. “And how old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

That admission elicited another gasp. “Are you two,” she swallowed, “intimate?” Clara looked to the floor. The ensuing silence told her Jackson was doing the same.

“Clay is just going to kill you.”

“So you’re going to tell him?” Jackson’s jaw twitched as he waited for an answer.

Clara grasped her hands and pleaded. “Please Eve, I need this. Please.”

“Clara’s not quite ready to tell her family, but we will soon.”

“I won’t say anything, but I hope you won’t continue to pursue”—she pointed with her finger from Clara to Jackson—“whatever this is. I don’t want to have to lie to Clay.”

Jackson shared a knowing look with Clara that was impossible for Eve to miss.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve been pursuing this for two years and now—”

“Oh my God!” Eve interrupted.

“I love him.” Clara stated.

“I love her.” Jackson countered.

Eve’s hand formed a fist and it collided with her forehead. “Jesus.” Disbelief etched her face. “Two years?”

Jackson spoke first. “I’m close to finishing school and we wanted to wait until after graduation before we tell the family.”

“Two years?”

Clara’s gaze landed on Jackson. “Two years.”

“Is that why you transferred from Tulane to LSU?”

“Yes, it is, but please,”—Clara squeezed Eve’s hands in hers—“let’s focus on your wedding day. It’s time to get into your dress and Jackson needs to put on his tux. Shall we leave him to it?”

“Yeah, okay.” Shaking her head she said, “If Clay finds out about this you two will have hell to pay.” She sighed deeply. “I can’t be part of that.”

Jackson nodded. “I completely understand. We won’t put you in that position.”

He watched the women exit the pool house. Clara and Eve exchanged some serious dialog by the look of it. Their situation was getting out of hand and now affected other people. He wouldn’t have their love be a lie.

His head pounded. He cleared his mind of all thoughts except the night ahead and rubbed his temples. He’d taken the night off. Other than being on call he was in the clear until tomorrow. He didn’t think it would be a busy night in the E.R. and he was excited about what the possibilities held. It was rare that they were both free at the same time. He thought of the gift waiting for her at his apartment—a French-porcelain fluted pie dish she’d been admiring.

As he dressed he thought through the plans he’d made for them. He’d purchased a DVD he thought she would like, and a movie made from those books she always read. They would order from their favorite pizzeria and eat while they watched the sad film. By the end she’d be crying just as she did when she read the books. He didn’t understand why she liked them so much, but he knew she did because she’d cry with a smile on her face.

He loved that she enjoyed a quiet evening at home as much as he did.

The door suddenly opened, blistering his serene images. Augie and Clay entered, both dressed in their smoke gray tuxes.

“Cigar?” Augie held out a box to Clay.

“No thanks.” Clay murmured.

“Jackson?” Augie held up his hand, displaying a cigar. “Cuban?”

Jackson shook his head. “Trying to quit.” He’d never smoked, it was just something he said in jest. “So you two bastards finally found women to put up with your shit. Augie, Mia’s cool with your cigarette smoke. Clay, you still tying up your women?”

Clay coughed, despite not smoking or drinking anything. “Say what?”

“Playing innocent?” Jackson shrugged.

Augie laughed. “Everything okay with Mia?”

“Yeah, she just got a little emotional over the gift I gave her.” Jackson stared at him in anticipation of more information. Augie thrust his hand in the air as he geared up to make a statement. “Honeymoon in Bora Bora and her birth certificate.”

Jackson frowned. “Bora Bora I get, but gifting a birth certificate?” He shook his head.

Augie hooked his arm around Jackson’s shoulders. “My brother, women are mysterious creatures. You’ll learn if you ever find someone to put up with your bitch fits.”

“Thanks for the tip cockwaffle.” Jackson fanned the smoke from in front of his face.

Chapter 2

Tending to two
brides at once was proving to be an act of monumental patience. Keeping Augie and Clay away from their brides was damn near impossible. Augie had ruined Mia’s up-do twice. Clara was glad when the musical notes of Johann Sebastian Bach lilted in the air. She took her position in line next to Jackson and linked her arm in his. His free hand squeezed her fingers and they were lost in each other’s eyes. The couple behind them coughed to signal they should begin the processional.

Slowly they traversed down the makeshift aisle. She whispered, “Jackson, I love you.” His fingers squeezed tighter. She could feel his warmth through the suit he wore as it radiated into her body. As they reached the end of the walkway his jaw twitched. His vice like grip was starting to squeeze off blood flow and her arm tingled as it neared numbness.

“It should be us,” he whispered.

They broke apart and each went to their appointed side of the room. Clara stood and pivoted on the indicated mark just as practiced. Even from across the stage Jackson’s eyes were intent on her. She agreed with him. It
should
be them, but they were both still in college and they really didn’t have any money. Her family supported her well, and she had her own apartment near campus, but she’d moved in with Jackson and he resented it when she offered her father’s credit card to pay for things. He paid for everything and she felt a little guilty. However, his joyful demeanor when he provided for them kept her from feeling too bad about their finances.

If she married without her family’s blessing, and a marriage to Jackson definitely would be without their blessing once they learned of the deception surrounding their clandestine relationship, she had no doubt they’d cut off her funding anyway. They’d cut funding to Cash when, after completing four years of college, he’d failed to acquire enough credits to graduate. The loss of her father’s support didn’t mean much because Jackson had said that he wouldn’t accept, use, or even require money from them. He was adamant that he should be the one to take care of them. She believed in him. He was disciplined, dedicated, and unbelievably stubborn, but she’d watched him sacrifice himself for two years in order to provide her with things he thought she needed or wanted. She’d learned not to express interest in merchandise she saw online or in the stores because it would inevitably end up in her possession, Jackson having observed her delight and cataloging in his mind the trinkets for future purchase. Truth told, she didn’t need or want anything when she was with him.

Clara’s family possessed old southern values. Since she was the baby girl, Jackson would need to ask her father for his blessing and once he did questions would arise regarding their relationship. Ultimately, they would have to tell her father that they’d been intimate for two years. As the oldest and most protective brother, Clay would freak out and add fuel to her father’s anger. She could only imagine the fiasco that would ensue.

The other couples started to file in. The huge wedding party comprised she and Jackson, all of her brothers and their wives, plus Augie’s two brothers.

Eve’s and Mia’s eyes, gray and amethyst, inspired the wedding colors. Clay and Augie had been enamored by the eye color of their fiancées.
The eyes are the window to the soul
. How many times had she heard her mother reference that cliché? Jackson’s eyes were a haunted deep-ocean blue. He clung to her like a buoy in a storm and she loved him, wanted to help him, but sometimes she felt as if she wasn’t strong enough to keep them both afloat. She wanted him to come to terms with the troubles that simmered beneath the surface.

The first chords of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” rung out in the living room of the Roy estate and the sisters took their first steps. Eve and Mia sauntered down the makeshift aisle arm in arm, all smiles, a stark contrast to the men who awaited their arrival with intense eyes—almost as if they were trying to ensure the women weren’t a mirage. They didn’t want to blink and discover them gone.

Clara had her own version of intense. Jackson still glared at her, unblinking. She smiled at him. Nothing. She winked. Nothing. She put her hand on her waist and tilted her head, cocked a brow at him, and then crossed her eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly and his intense gaze finally broke. He blinked and his banked smile broke free. It hardly ever happened, but when it did she was rewarded with a sincere, honest and beautiful smile that only Jackson could give.

As the vows were exchanged Jackson’s eyes sparkled a little bit more as she sniffled and wiped her eyes. A few times she saw him look down and wipe away a tear.

The rings were given and finally the grooms kissed their brides. Each couple was announced. Still, Jackson only had eyes for her. It was as if a magnet drew them together. The instant they reconnected he exhaled long and deep. His fingers gripped her in the vice of his fate as if she alone were responsible for his wellbeing. His intensity scared her at times, but it was also a part of him that she cherished unconditionally.

As they walked down the aisle he whispered in her ear. “Gotta get you home. Need to be inside you … wrapped up in you.”

“Cracker Jack.” She squeezed him a little tighter. “I need you too.” And she did. In a world where nothing slowed down and everything was blurred, she always found her focus in him. He’d always been around when she needed him. He was there for her when she’d had her accident. Her hero, her angel, her Jackson. He was the reason she was alive today.

≈

Jackson couldn’t be happier that Clay and Augie wanted to get their brides alone sooner, rather than later. As soon as the limos pulled from the curb, Jackson and Clara walked to their car. On the way home Jackson stopped at a gas station. As he pumped gas into his old, unreliable Honda, he watched her walk into the store, her purple dress flowing behind her. She was beautiful. Though they were ten years apart, he never felt as if she were younger. She’d always been considerate and altruistic, cultured and sophisticated. But she was more than that even—she provided him with a reason to exist. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but even when they disagreed she was mature and they solved problems as a team. More importantly, whenever he felt the walls closing in on him
she
was the only thing that could hold them back.

And just like that he’d passed several minutes. Thinking of her could do that. As she headed back to the car two men piled out of a truck, eyed her up and down, and whistled. He hustled to get to her. Wrapping his arm around her he said, “You’re beautiful.” She smiled sleepily and sighed into his chest.

“Hey.” His voice was harsher than he’d intended and she turned to him with worried eyes. “You’re my beautiful Clara Grace.” His hand rubbed her arm.

She stared into his eyes with sincerity. “I’m glad.” She held a fountain drink out to him. “Taste it.”

He sucked up the sugary substance through a red straw. “It’s different. What’d you do?”

“It’s a chocolate coke.” She giggled. “A combination of two of my three favorite things.”

“You consume too much sugar Bug.” He took another sip from the straw and couldn’t deny it was tasty. Sounded gross, but tasted pretty good. At the car he opened her door and with his hand still on her shoulder he bent and kissed the small part of her scar not covered by her dress. She folded herself into the seat, and then he handed her the drink. “What’s your third favorite thing?”

“Cracker Jack,”—she palmed his jaw—“it’s you of course. You’re my prize at the bottom of the box.” Her beautiful smile beaming up at him made his breath hiccup. Pondering, he walked around to the driver’s side of the car. He couldn’t believe she loved him as much as she did and he luxuriated in the overwhelming obsession he had for her.

“Guess what I got?” She held up a pink striped gift bag.

“What’s that?”

“Some new lingerie.” She pulled something transparent from the bag. “Sheer baby doll nightie and”—she rummaged some more—“matching thong.”

“Christ, Bug.” He reached down to adjust his crotch. He loved her in lingerie. Lingerie that
he’d
bought. He frowned, what the hell? “Why would they give you that?”

“It was purchased for Mia, but was too big. Then Eve tried it on and it was too small. Turns out, I’m just right.” She shrugged.

He was going to have an aneurism before they got home.

“Jackson!” He slammed on the brakes just in time to miss rear-ending the car in front of him. He shook his head to clear it.

“I’ll just put it away.” Clara busied herself with the task of hurriedly erasing the evidence of his torment. Somewhat collected, he drove.

He inhaled deeply and squeezed her thigh. “You are just right, absolutely stunning and I can’t wait to see you in that thing when we get home.”

Her radiant smile shot straight to his heart and accelerated its pace. “Why are you so beautiful?”

“You make me beautiful.”

“You give me way too much credit.” His hand in hers, he turned into their apartment complex. He wanted her to have a big fine house. That was why he worked so hard—it was all for her. Soon she’d have a nice home in which to luxuriate.

He wanted to give her a home that would protect her and cloak her in love. The thought of her in their home, caring for their possessions and tending to his laundry and the contents of their day-to-day life made him lightheaded. Would he ever have that? It seemed forever in coming.

He pulled under the designated carport and cut the engine. She picked up that damn pink bag and said, “I’m going to go in and slip into something a little more comfortable.” Her voice was like velvet and her chin rested on her chest—her dramatic blue pools periodically veiled by the rapid blinking of dark lashes.

Something that resembled a growl rose from his throat. “Shall I slip into something more comfortable as well?”

Her head cocked as she actively pondered the question from the passenger side of the car. “What do you have?”

“Banana hammock.”

“Really?” Her eyes protruded in shock.

His eyebrows waggled and he was rewarded with her flirtatious giggle. She dashed out of the car and ran into the apartment. To give her time to change he walked down to the end of the complex to retrieve the mail. He passed various compact cars and several muddied work trucks. The people that lived here worked hard and were a serious lot as they constantly struggled to make ends meet. The complex was located in the downtown area and was relatively quiet. He suspected that was because there were not many kids around. He unlocked the mailbox and pulled out a stack of envelopes an inch thick. He sighed as he thumbed through the letters. He counted several bills: utilities, auto insurance, medical school, credit cards. As he walked back to the apartment he felt the weight of all that was standing in the way of marrying Clara and all he would have to accomplish before he could marry.

He waved to his neighbor Mr. Porter who was taking out his trash. He was a nice man and occasionally they’d invite him over for cake or pie or whatever Clara had made.

Once inside he unloaded the bills onto the console table and dropped his keys into a bowl. She’d lit candles. He followed the low light, his mood instantly lifting when he heard the voice of Etta James. His feet padded over rose petals she’d dropped like breadcrumbs and he bent to remove his shoes. His jacket and tie followed, along with other pieces of clothing until he stood only in his briefs.

Turning into the bedroom he saw her standing in the sheer material of the baby doll chemise given to her by Mia and Eve. She was seduction personified with her parted lips, sparkling eyes, and the way she held part of the material in her hand, lifting it away from her body. He could see the lower curve of her breasts and a peak of areola, but a band of lace across her nipples kept them from his view. His throat went dry at the erotic image. He couldn’t speak yet so he walked toward her. His palms on her jaw, he tilted her face and pressed his lips to hers, exploring her gently at first, then increasing the intensity until they were both gasping.

He broke the kiss so they could breathe. “Show me the back.” She hesitated, her blue eyes held resentment or betrayal as if he’d asked her to kill her firstborn child. She gathered her thick long copper hair in her hands and pulled it behind her and slowly turned. Her hair hung down to the middle of her back. The gentle slope of her lower back and her butt were open to his gaze.

“The lines of your body are beautiful Clara. Love the sheer thong panties and how they reveal the sexy curve of your butt. Pull your hair over your shoulder so I can see your skin.”

She gasped. “Why do you make me do this Jackson?”

His hands gently cupped her shoulders. “Every inch of you is beautiful. I don’t like you hiding any part of yourself from me.”

“But I want to be perfect for you. Just for tonight can we pretend it’s not there?”

“No, Bug. It
is
there and it’s as much a part of who you are as your breasts or your butt.”

Sluggishly she pulled her hair over her shoulder. Blistered, puckered, and jagged lines marred her perfect skin. White on the edges, but pink in the center, the skin had been torn and gnawed. The scars were large and long bringing back all the memories of that day. He slid down the straps of her nightgown and kissed the visible memory of the horrific experience, watching her skin pimple as he did.