Wedding Date with the Army Doc (13 page)

Within five minutes he heard Charlotte's voice on the OR intercom. There was a noticeably cool clip to it. “The lung biopsy is benign for cancer.”

Great news for the patient, though it was imperative for pathology to figure out exactly what the mass was with further studies. He cleared his throat before Charlotte could disconnect. He couldn't let it matter that he'd be in front of the entire surgical team and anyone who was within earshot in the pathology department. This was too important, and now was the time for desperate measures.

“Charlotte?”

A second, then two passed. “Yes?”

“This is Jackson, just to make it clear.”

Another pause. “Yes.”

He took a deep breath. “I never thought I'd have a shotgun wedding at forty-two, and I can't exactly get on bended knee here in surgery.” The staff laughed and looked surprised, but when they realized he wasn't kidding around, everyone stopped to listen to what in the world he would say next. “But, Charlotte, will you marry me?”

“P-pardon me?” she stammered. “We're on the speakerphone, Jackson.”

“I know. And I don't care. You won't take my calls and I figured if I came down there you wouldn't see me. So, with the OR staff as my witnesses, I'm asking, will you marry me?” Then, taking the biggest risk of his life, well, after proposing in front of almost a dozen people, he said, “I'll give you some time to think.” Then he nodded for his surgical nurse to click off the intercom.

The instant she did, the operating-room team broke into applause.

He tried to ignore them, having a patient lying on the OR table and all, though he felt fantastic, like he'd just climbed Mount Everest, and smiled beneath his mask. He'd done it. Excellent. A wave of insecurity knocked him back a bit. His stunt didn't guarantee a “yes” from Charlotte, but at least he'd made his case loud and clear. With witnesses! He loved her. He wanted to marry her.

Now forcing his personal life to the back of his brain, he focused on the patient, who deserved to be front and center. When he'd finished resecting the rest of the mass and tying off all involved vessels, he asked the assistant surgeon to close for him. He knew and trusted the young woman's skill. Plus the team was completely on board with him needing to leave.

He disposed of his dirty gowns and gloves, washed his hands again, then strode to the doctors' lockers. He grabbed his work kit and headed to the bathroom to clean up and shave, to make himself as presentable as he could possibly be, before facing the woman he loved. Once he passed the mirror test, he gave himself a reassuring nod. “You've got this.”

First off, he stopped to speak to the family of his lung surgery patient, sharing his good report, watching the tension vanish from their eyes and foreheads. Then, on his way to the elevator, while passing through the surgical ward, he noticed a patient getting discharged and there was a beautiful bouquet remaining at the bedside on the movable table. The staff rolled the table out of the room and into the hall in order to get the patient into the wheelchair in the tiny private room.

“You taking this?” he asked.

“No. I don't want to be reminded of this place,” the young man said. “Flowers aren't my thing anyway.”

“Mind if I borrow them?”

“Take 'em, they're yours.”

Jackson removed the bright white daisies and yellow sunflowers from the glass vase and shook off the excess water. He grabbed some paper towels from the nearby dispenser to wrap around the stems. Pleased it was a proper enough bouquet, one fit for following up on a marriage proposal, he headed down to the basement and the pathology department. Since he didn't have a ring to offer her, these bright summer flowers would have to do.

* * *

Charlotte stood bewildered, staring at the OR intercom in the tiny room with the cryostat machine. Jackson had just asked her to marry him. The thought set off full body chills. The good kind. This after she'd spent the last two days trying to force him out of her life and heart. And had failed miserably. Was he serious? He wouldn't dare play a cruel joke on her, would he?

Of course not!

She'd laid a huge surprise on him the other night, then had gone ballistic when he'd been as stunned as she was right now. He'd needed time to think through the sudden life change rather than jump up and down with joy. Hell,
she
hadn't felt joyful when she'd got the news, yet she'd expected him to be. How unfair and unrealistic she'd been. But being frightened about her decision to become a mother, a decision as momentous as her double mastectomy surgery, she'd needed his instant support. Unreasonably so. And he'd been unable to give it to her right off. So she'd got mad.

It'd hurt, and sent her back to feeling like a needy teenager when her father had offered little support over the death of her mother. She'd freaked out and pushed Jackson out the door. Out of her life? She didn't know for sure because she couldn't think clearly at the time. All she knew was he hadn't met her unrealistic and unreasonable needs, so he'd become a villain.

Two miserable days later, deep down she knew without a doubt he was anything but.

He'd pleaded with her to understand, to give him time to think, to let him back in. Yet she'd said something hurtful and angry through the door about whether or not she'd ever let him back. How immature.

It hadn't been fair to him, not by a long shot. Most guys would have just walked away and given up.
Her loss
,
 
they could have rationalized. Yet Jackson had just pulled the craziest stunt she could ever imagine. He'd proposed over an OR intercom, with his entire surgical staff listening in. That proved he loved her, didn't it?

She smiled, tears welled in her eyes and she pushed them away. Except he had yet to say the words.

Now it was perfectly clear why Dr. Gordon had made that shabby excuse for not being able to do his scheduled assignment for the morning. She'd checked the surgery lineup and had seen Jackson's name and nearly lost her breakfast. They'd conspired against her.

Someone cleared their throat. She turned to see her mentor, who'd stepped around from being just on the other side of the laboratory wall. Though thinner than he used to be, the flash was back in his old eyes. “That was quite a scene,” he said, unable to hide his pleasure.

“Did you know he was going to do that?”

“To propose? No. But he begged me to make you do the frozen section. What was a man to do?”

She shook her head, letting herself float on air just a little. What a stunt, asking a woman to marry him with an audience. Yet
not
hearing the most important part first,
I love you
, kept her tethered to the ground. He was going the traditional, honorable route. Girl gets pregnant, the guy marries her. It was probably a golden rule of the South. Was she supposed to clap her hands in joy? Was this what she truly wanted?

Dr. Gordon stepped closer and patted her back. Her mixed-up tears kept coming. It was great to have him at work again, even if only part-time, and for how long, no one could possibly guess. She was especially glad he'd been in on the most amazing proposal she could ever have dreamed of—minus a single phrase.

“I hope you have the good sense to tell him yes.”

She went quiet, in all honesty not knowing for sure what her answer would be. “I'll let you know when I figure it out.”

With that, they walked back to their respective offices, where piles of patient slides awaited their diagnoses.

She took her seat in front of the microscope, adjusting the head, resting her nose between the eyepieces, and, still feeling as light as a feather with hope and love, she focused on the slide in the tray holder. From time to time, though, she considered how she'd forced Jackson into the corner, and being the wonderful man he was, he couldn't stand to let her down. She worried she'd never know for sure if he loved her or was only doing his Southern gentleman duty. The honorable thing.

Would that be good enough?

Charlotte spent the next hour and a half in her darkened office with the shine of his big moment and proposal fading, reading slides, trying to put the man she loved out of her mind. A nearly impossible task. What would she tell him?

Her door flew open, the light was turned on, and in barged Jackson. She jumped. “I believe we left off at the part where I asked you to marry me.” He pushed the flowers at her.

Enough time had passed for her to come off her cloud—in fact, with her growing doubt those clouds had turned a pale shade of gray. She didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't truly want. With a guarded heart she spoke. “You don't have to do me any favors, Jackson.” She took the flowers anyway, laid them on her desk.

He looked puzzled, as if he couldn't believe that she still didn't get it.

* * *

Jackson had been so swept away with carrying out his risky task, he'd forgotten some very important words. He'd managed to mangle the proposal. What a mess. The whole thing had started with Charlotte feeling insecure about being pregnant and having to break the news to him, a guy who'd never wanted to get married or have kids again. He needed her to know something.

“Forgive me. I forgot to tell you something first—the most important part.” Jackson approached Charlotte's chair and took her hands, bringing her to standing so he could look into those warm brown, though suddenly skeptical, eyes. He noticed her hands were shaking, and for a guy who'd just performed flawless surgery, his hands were, too. Why wouldn't they be? They were both about to embark on the biggest journey of their lives. This time together. If he could get Charlotte to cooperate, that was.

“I want to be there for our baby, Charlotte.”

“And?”

“And? Oh, of course, and you! I want to be there for you.”

“Because?” Now she looked downright impatient.

Because? Oh, for crying out loud, he really was sleep deprived and not thinking straight. “I love you. Didn't I say it?” In all honesty, the proposal in the OR, fueled by anxiety and adrenaline, was a blur.

“No.”

Damn. He'd blown it big-time, but couldn't she read between the lines? “But I asked you to marry me. Surely that implies that? You know—”

She canted her head as if he'd been singing a beautiful aria and had just hit a sour note. He could fix that.

“I love you.” He hoped the sincerity he felt down to his bones was reflected in his eyes, because he needed her to understand how important this was to him. “I want to marry you, to be our baby's father, if you'll have me.” She gazed at him, not as much as a whisper crossing her lips. He needed to step up his pitch. Maybe appeal to her practical side? “You'll need my help raising our kid because you have no clue what you're getting yourself into. Trust me, you need me. Our kid needs me.” He would have missed her twitch of a smile if he'd blinked, because he was sweating through what had turned out to be a totally messed-up proposal. He hoped she needed him half as much as he needed her, now that he'd finally admitted it. He let go of her hands and framed her face then kissed her with everything he had, trying to communicate what he couldn't somehow manage to find the perfect words for. She kissed him back. A good sign. It occurred that she might need to hear him say it again. “I need you, because I love you. Marry me. Please.”

She fell against him, and he held her tight.

“We've had a rocky patch,” she said to his chest before she looked up at him. “It took a couple of days for you to come to your decision.”

“You mean my senses.”

“Yes.” She smiled, but not joyfully, more of a sad or resigned kind of smile. Could his delay in figuring things out have taken that much life out of her? “Like you, I'd like to take some time to think over your proposal.”

Had his hesitation and two days' lag time been enough to make her question what they had? He had no right to demand an answer right now, not after what he'd done, but it hurt to the center of his heart, realizing how he'd left her alone when she'd needed him most. Now he could say he truly knew how she'd felt. All he could do was hope she'd come to her senses the way he had and say yes. Yes to their future. “I don't want to wait that long, but I have to understand after what I've put you through.”

“It isn't payback, Jackson. I've got to think things over.”

Suddenly feeling like a man walking a tightrope, he went still. “That's understandable.” What would he do if she told him no? He didn't want to let her out of his sight but he had to finish his afternoon clinic and tie things up for the next few days away. “What about the wedding this weekend? Will you still go to Savannah with me?”

She kissed him lightly, then looked into his eyes. “Yes. I promised I'd go with you and I'll go.”

That gave him time and the chance to make things right again. If he couldn't convince her that he loved her right now, maybe the beauty of his hometown would help her fall in love.

CHAPTER TEN

L
ATE
 
ON
F
RIDAY
 
night Charlotte stood at the window of her tenth-story hotel room in Savannah, watching a foreign container ship slowly pass by. The tall rusted ship loaded several stories high with colorful cargo crates almost reached her eye level. Definitely a working ship. With tons and tons of cargo, how could it possibly stay afloat?

“That thing's huge,” she said loudly to Jackson, who was arranging clothes in the closet.

“Get used to it—this is one of the most traveled rivers for international shipping in the US.”

“It's really fascinating. I kind of feel like the captain could be watching me with his binoculars.”

“I wouldn't be surprised. Probably hoping to get a peep show.”

That made her laugh. “Boy, would he be disappointed.”

Out of nowhere Jackson was at her back, passing his arms around her waist and pulling her close and nuzzling her neck. “He wouldn't get the chance because I'd deck him if he tried spying on you.”

She turned her head so they could kiss. “Thanks.” She looked back at the ship, almost directly across from them. “Did you see that, Captain?” she called out.

Jackson chuckled along with her and hugged her closer.

It was the first time they'd gone away overnight and checked into a hotel room together, and the first time they'd cuddled today. He'd chosen a gorgeous and grand hotel and spa with a harbor view. Every detail about the place spoke of old wealth. For a San Fernando Valley girl who'd grown up in a lower middle class area, the obvious opulence, though beautiful and inviting, also made her a little uncomfortable. Even now, she'd never think to stay in such a place, but apparently the man with three names and a number was in his element.

Their spacious bedroom had plenty of room to sit on the love seat and enjoy the view. Like a grand lady wearing a shiny pearl necklace, the Savannah River looked extra pretty with the city lights from across the river.

“What's all that?” She pointed across the river to a long street still busy with activity at the late hour. Rather than deal with what was written on her heart, for now she'd stick to superficial talk. Which was pretty much what they'd done for the entire flight to Georgia.

“That's River Street. All those buildings used to be cotton warehouses. Now they've been converted into anything your heart desires.”

“Wow.”

She looked downward at the huge hotel pool accented with lights, then to the right where a white gazebo adorned in tiny café lights looked like a miniature toy in the center of a picture-perfect lawn. All the while, as she checked out the area, she enjoyed the warmth of Jackson's body against hers, his hands resting on her stomach. It made her think of their baby and how protected it was right this moment. “Looks like they have weddings here, too.”

“They have weddings everywhere in Savannah. It's a very romantic city. I can't wait to show you the historic district tomorrow morning.”

“In that case, I hate to be a party pooper, but since we've got a big day tomorrow I'd better get some sleep. I'm worn out from the flight and getting up so early.”
And being pregnant and totally confused about your marriage proposal.
She glanced at her watch and realized that back home it was only eight o'clock. Was that what pregnancy did to a woman?

“I wanted to introduce you to an old college buddy of mine—we were roommates—but I can understand your needing more rest these days.” Jackson had been completely accommodating the entire day, and now was no different. “You've got to take care of our baby, right?”

That was part of the problem. Since Jackson had come around and said he wanted to marry her and he loved her, she couldn't quite shake the feeling it was all about the baby. “I had no idea how exhausting being pregnant was.”

He squeezed her a little tighter. “And I don't want to make you feel worse by pushing too hard. The point is for you to enjoy the wedding tomorrow evening. To enjoy Savannah.” He kissed her cheek. “Would you mind if I met up with Jarod for drinks downstairs in the bar?”

“Of course not. Go right ahead.”

“Okay, I won't be late. Just a drink and a little catching up on things.”

Within ten minutes of Jackson leaving, Charlotte had done her nighttime routine and snuggled into the amazingly comfortable bed, choosing to leave the curtains open so she could continue to look outside before going to sleep. She may not have the energy to be out there, but she could still enjoy the hustle and bustle of River Street across the river. She was also rewarded with the grand entrance of another enormous cargo ship passing slowly through the waters. The sight put a smile on her face, making her feel oddly connected with the wide world while snug in her bed.

Unfortunately, she couldn't shut down her mind or stop her worries about Jackson. Honor was a large part of who he was, and she worried he was merely doing the right thing by asking her to marry him because she'd got pregnant. Just like he'd done with his ex-wife. Before the weekend was over she'd have to confront him about it. With her body dictating her needs, plus the fact she'd hardly slept last night from thinking nonstop about Jackson's true motives for proposing, within a few minutes she'd drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She heard voices and forced her eyes open. Glancing next to her in the bed, there was evidence that Jackson had slept there, and she remembered cuddling next to him at one point in the night, but he wasn't there now. Plus the sheets felt cold. How long had he been up? And who was he talking to? Should she hide under the blankets and play possum?

“Thank you,” Jackson said, then closed the hotel-room door, before shortly appearing at her bedside with a full breakfast tray.

She sat up, mouth open. “Wow.”

“Good morning, sunshine! Breakfast is served.”

She had to hand it to him, he was really trying hard—the least she could do was be gracious.

She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was only seven-thirty in the morning. That would be four-thirty back home. “I feel like a princess. Thank you.” She hoped the current wave of morning queasiness would pass so she could really enjoy the spread, rather than move things around her plate and hope he didn't notice. Especially after his obvious desire to treat her like royalty. She sipped some water. “Did you sleep much last night?” She threw back the covers, and in her sexy nightgown, which hung a little loosely around her chest, she stood.

Jackson came to her and hugged her good morning. They lingered in their embrace and she savored his solid warmth and the way he smelled fresh from the shower complete with yet a new aftershave, this one with a hint of sandalwood. Dared she dream about being his wife, secure in knowing it was her he wanted to marry, and not merely because of a ready-made family?

“Yeah, I was in before one. Had a good talk with my buddy. Got all caught up on a few things.” It made her wonder if he'd talked about his current situation, having a pregnant girlfriend and having to get married
again
, but she didn't ask. It was too early for drama. “Let's eat. We've got a big day ahead of us.”

“I'll do my best,” she said, smiling up at him, hoping she'd make it through the day with such a heavy heart.

“There are twenty-two squares to share with you.”

She popped her eyes wide open. “Twenty-two?”

“I drive fast, but we'll only have time for a few today, my favorites like Lafayette Square, Chippewa Square, Monterey Square and I'll tell you all about the Mercer house then. Oh, then we'll stop by Ellis Square so we can hit City Market. I've got a favorite restaurant there where we can have lunch. Then tomorrow we can spend a little more time checking out more squares. How's that sound?”

It sounded wonderful, but it surprised her that he hadn't marked out time for his family or for introducing her. Could he feel ashamed of the fact that, if she said yes, he'd be having another “shotgun wedding,” as he'd called it in the OR? But she didn't want to spoil his enthusiasm first thing in the morning, so she kept her uncomfortable thoughts to herself.

“Great!” She glanced at the tray of breakfast food and thought about the wedding that evening. “But that sounds like a lot of eating.”

He laughed. “Can you tell I'm really excited to have you here?” He sat and slathered a piece of toast with Georgia peach jam.

Maybe she should try to believe him. He wanted to share his world with her, and that knowledge set off a warm feeling tumbling through her body. Her queasiness vanished and she was suddenly more than ready to dive into the scrambled eggs and O'Brien potatoes. And, mmm, the fresh fruit and pancakes looked good, too!

* * *

Charlotte had never seen such a picturesque area as the historic district in Savannah. While they drove, she felt like she'd gone back in time with the beautifully preserved buildings and famous blocked-off squares, each with its own charm and individual appeal. Spanish moss draped every tree, and there were hundreds of oak trees throughout the area, as well as palmettos and magnolias.

“Lucky for you you're here in summer to see the crepe myrtles bloom.”

The heat made her feel sticky, and she wasn't convinced she should feel lucky to be here in the heart of summer, but she completely agreed that the crepe myrtles were gorgeous. She was also glad he'd put on the air conditioner for the drive. “They certainly are beautiful. But with all the trees everywhere, everything looks beautiful here.”

Jackson lucked out and found a parking spot. “We've actually got a nickname as the forest city because of that.” He helped her out of the car and a wave of hot humidity hit her like a wet sauna towel. “But with heat like this, our ancestors had to plant trees just for the shade to survive. It was a practical idea that's brought all kinds of benefits.”

She fanned herself as she felt a fine sheen of perspiration cover her face, wondering how crazy it would make her hair. Yeah, lucky her for being in Georgia in August. As a San Fernando Valley girl, she certainly knew about heat, but the humidity here brought “hot” to a new level. As they walked, she wondered how the bride would survive wearing a wedding dress in weather like this. She knew the wedding was out toward the beach at a lighthouse, which would probably help.

Holding hands and strolling to the heart of Ellis Square, they watched the children and a few adults playing in the big fountain, which was obviously meant for water play. The sight of little kids squealing with joy as the dancing water shot up made her think of her baby. She looked at the man she'd been positive she loved a few short days ago.

He pointed to the busy market and shop area. “Ever had shrimp and grits?”

“Had shrimp. Never grits.”

“I'm going to take you for the gourmet supreme version of that dish. Follow me.”

During lunch, she ventured to bring up one major portion of her worries. “Jackson, what if this baby is a girl?”

“Is that what's been on your mind?”

She nodded. “In part. Yes.”

“You've got to quit thinking of yourself as poison for a girl baby.”

“But if I pass on my genes...”

“You can't let yourself obsess about that. We could have a boy. Or a girl who'll be perfectly fine. If you want to have her tested, I'll stand behind you, but worrying and feeling guilty isn't going to help anything. Who knows where breast cancer research will be in twenty years? Please, stop doubting yourself. Think about the wonder of having a baby. Period. Not a single child born is guaranteed to come problem free.”

Moved by his sentiment, she reached across the table and touched his arm. This was part of what she loved about him. “Are you really okay with me being pregnant?”

“Once I got used to the idea, I have to say I'm excited. It'll give me a chance to be the kind of father I should have been with my sons. I promise to be there for you, to help you raise our kid.”

She believed him and burst into tears to prove it, but what he'd just vowed had sounded more like a dutiful co-parent than a loving husband. If she could only believe he felt as strongly for her.

After a huge lunch, and visiting a couple more beautifully impressive town squares, Jackson was considerate about Charlotte needing to rest before they got ready for the wedding. So he delivered her back to the hotel room so she could take a power nap and he headed out to the gym and then the pool. She definitely wanted to look her best for the wedding that night, for meeting his family, too, but most especially for him. She needed to see the love in his eyes before she made up her mind about his marriage proposal.

* * *

“Wow!” was all that came out of Jackson's mouth. Charlotte stood before him in a pale peach-colored dress that flowed in tiers to her ankles with a snug and wide fitted waist and a halter-style top embellished with a beaded and jeweled collar.

“The color is called blush.” She looked anxiously down at her dress toward her toes. “I chose it because it works with my complexion. Plus I thought it would be complementary no matter what the bride's colors are.”

As far as he was concerned, she didn't need to explain anything. Indeed, her light olive skin and dark hair glowed in contrast to the pastel shade. “You were meant for that dress, or I should probably say that dress was meant for you.”

She smiled shyly and turned a slow circle, causing the skirt to flare out the slightest bit. The cut of the back of the dress was high, she hadn't gone for sexy other than a slit opening beneath the halter collar, yet she still looked like the sexiest woman on the earth to him.

“Thank you. Too bad I'll only get to wear it once.”

The ironic statement made him grin. Not if his plans played out as expected. “After the bride, you'll be the most beautiful woman there.” Because heaven help any woman who tried to show up the bride!