Authors: Dianne Venetta
The van made a wide slow arc around the fountain before coming to a stop. Her mother gasped. “Oh, Jenny!” She clasped onto her daughter’s hand. “It’s beautiful!”
Splashing with life, the tiered fountain reigned prominent in the front yard. More than making for a regal entry, it proved a wonderful welcome home.
Exactly as Jax intended
.
Jennifer spotted the tail end of his truck in the back and trepidation closed her throat. “There’s more.”
Much more
.
“But the fountain is gorgeous,” her mother admired softly, “and the flowers...” She turned to face her daughter, eyes glowing in approval. “They are incredible. I love your choices. The tropical flavor...it really suits your home.”
Jennifer could only nod.
Jax suggested them
.
The van nurse retrieved the wheelchair as Jennifer rose to help her mother from her seat and down the few steps. Beatrice was shaky, but anxious to begin her tour. “Let’s get to it!”
Once outside, the nurse allowed Jennifer to take control of her mother’s wheelchair, while she hovered in the background. Jennifer understood. She was available, if needed.
Beyond the fountain, the lantanas’ hues of sunset stole the attention, their tricolor blooms soaking up the late afternoon sun filtering in through the treetops. Beatrice pointed to them. “What a nice, homey feel those give to the house.”
Jennifer acknowledged the remark, but kept a keen eye out for Jax. “They’ve filled in considerably since planted.”
“The selection complements your home to perfection.”
“I’ve learned it’s a complicated process,” she replied absently, preparing herself for his appearance any second.
“Not when you know the basics of your color wheel.” Placing elbows on her armrests, Beatrice looked up at her daughter and smiled. “Then it’s only a matter of choosing what appeals to you.”
Jennifer nodded, anticipation strangling her pleasure.
“I want to see the back.”
Of course you do
, she rued. Pushing her mother’s wheelchair, the three made their way around the front drive to the back—and undoubtedly—where Jax would be.
“Oh darling, I love the hibiscus!”
One eye on the hunt for Jax, she replied, “They are beautiful, aren’t they?”
“And they’re so full...”
“Yes,” she murmured, glancing about the yard.
Where was he
? That was his truck, though she saw no sign of an inspector’s vehicle.
“Jennifer, push me to the back.”
The sharp command pulled her back into the moment. Crossing into open yard, Jennifer felt like she was approaching an awaiting firing squad.
“Oh, it’s lovely...”
Jennifer followed her mother’s gaze to the arbor. Positioned before the fountain wall, laden with red-flowering vine, it was an utterly perfect setting for bride and groom.
Jennifer swallowed a lump of regret.
“It looks as though it were made for the occasion...”
“It
was
,” escaped the soft admission.
Beatrice turned to her daughter in surprise. “He knows about the wedding, then?”
“Yes.” Guilt flipped in her belly. “He designed the entire area with that in mind.”
Beatrice clasped her hands together, then allowed them to fall to her lap. “How thoughtful of him.”
Yes. Jennifer’s heart sank. The man was thoughtful to a fault. Unlike her.
“Dr. Hamilton!”
Beatrice turned at the sound of the male voice.
Jennifer froze. Her heart stopped.
She eased around to see him.
Dressed in his customary Montgomery Landscape shirt, khaki shorts and work boots, his hair the usual mess of tufts, Jax stood by her bedroom window. A look of mild surprise brushed across his features.
Jennifer swallowed hard.
Judgment day
.
He smiled.
Her heart split.
“Shall we?” her mother prodded.
Jennifer’s pulse sprinted through her limbs. No. Let’s not go anywhere near him.
Beatrice fussed with her hair.
Forcing her body to react, Jennifer pushed the chair toward him, but not far. As usual, Jax met her halfway.
When he drew near, his smile dimmed. Taking in the elderly woman before him, brown eyes filled with curiosity. He turned to Jennifer.
Your mother
?
Beatrice spoke first. “You must be Jackson.”
“I am,” he answered, his comprehension complete. “You must be Dr. Hamilton.”
Jennifer cringed.
Short and sweet
, she prayed. Better yet, short will do. In a defensive stance, she took up position by her mother’s side.
“I am,” Beatrice replied, her cheeks blushing like a schoolgirl.
“Jackson Montgomery,” he declared, and reached down to take her hand in formal introduction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you.” Her gaze drifted over the yard then returned to Jax. “The yard is
wonderful
... You’ve really gone to a lot of trouble.”
He looked directly at her mother, his reply soft and intense. “I’m always glad to work for a worthy cause, Dr. Hamilton.”
Jennifer gulped.
“And good news,” he said, turning to her. “The inspector signed us off. Congratulations. You’re good to go, anytime,” he added, though his eyes held no pleasure at the prospect.
“Great,” Jennifer said dully.
Beatrice drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, my!”
Jennifer’s heart thumped. She bent over at once. “Mom, what is it? What’s the matter?
Are you okay
?”
“Where did you ever find that?” Asking no one in particular, Beatrice pointed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jax’s smile returned.
Escaping the sudden fear that had taken hold, Jennifer’s gaze leapt in the direction her mother pointed. That’s when she saw it. Situated off the corner of her bedroom, rising high and free on a pole above the clump of lush plumbago, sat a Victorian birdhouse.
She noted the extraordinary detail bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother’s old one, except the color scheme was different. Rather than painted with usual pastels, this one mirrored the colors of her house.
Jax spoke solely to her mother. “I found it in a specialty store. Your daughter described one that she remembered while growing up, one you had in your garden. She mentioned it was a real beauty, fit for a king.” He smiled. “I checked around and a friend suggested where I might find one similar.” He paused, his expression open, filled with the innocence of a child’s. “What do you think?”
Tears filled her mother’s eyes. “
I love it
...” she whispered fiercely. She turned upward to face her daughter, her eyes hopeful. “You remember that?”
With a lump in her throat the size of a boulder, she could only nod.
Jax remembered
.
Evidenced by her mother’s smile, years of hurt melted away. Though he had no idea his role, Jax’s thoughtfulness repaired a bridge between mother and daughter; a gaping rift torn by the harsh words of a self-centered young woman, healed by the deeds of a compassionate young stranger.
While Beatrice had no idea this was the first time her daughter had laid eyes on the thing, Jennifer knew. She glanced at him. Jax knew.
Dabbing the corner of her eyes with a crooked forefinger, Beatrice collected herself. She pulled herself a little taller, a little stronger and said, “Jackson, I love what you’ve done here. Will you be so kind as to show me around the rest of your beautiful creation?”
“It would be my pleasure, Dr. Hamilton.”
“Call me Beatrice,” she said, warming to his charm.
He cast a glance toward her, gauging her reception.
The noose encircled Jennifer’s neck with a yank. If her mother became too cozy, if he learned of her feelings...
She would surely be the fool
.
“Jenny?”
“Yes, please,” she mumbled, and grasped hold of the chair handles with a white-knuckled grip.
“I want to see the bird house up close,” Beatrice declared.
Jennifer’s ego and heart tumbled over one another.
Of course you do
... But she duly followed Jax’s lead.
“It’s an amazing piece of artwork, both in craft and creativity,” he shared as they walked. “A true custom job.”
Nearing the bedroom patio, the three of them slowed.
“In fact, if you look close, you’ll see it’s outfitted with a special entrance on the side.”
Upon closer inspection, Jennifer could see he was right. The birdhouse appeared hand-painted, the woodwork fancy enough for a human’s home, let alone a bird’s.
Over Beatrice’s head, Jax shot Jennifer a quiet smile—one so brilliant and so powerful—she couldn’t avoid its intimacy.
Even if she tried. And held within his gaze, one with all the familiarity of a close friend, she heard, “The side entry was made large enough for a Cardinal.” Her grip tightened.
“Cardinals?” Beatrice asked, glancing to him, somewhat confused. “Why, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a birdhouse made for Cardinals.”
Jennifer couldn’t breathe. The gesture was so intimate—so private—she feared her eyes betrayed her.
But Jax grazed past the question with barely a hesitation. Turning to focus on her mother, he replied, “They’re a common visitor around here. I didn’t want them to feel left out. And their song is outstanding, especially in the calm, after the rain...”
Beatrice laughed softly. “That’s sweet.”
Jennifer’s heart ached.
You have no idea
.
Lacing her fingers together, Beatrice settled in as Jax began a narrative of the yard, the planning that went into it, the changes along the way, directing his comments entirely toward her mother—to which Jennifer was grateful.
She didn’t know if she could survive any more of his attention. Not with any semblance of indifference, that is.
What had he done
! Jax never mentioned a birdhouse, not once. What was the meaning of it? Was it significant? Warmth flushed through her cheeks. Could it mean Sam was right?
Did she dare believe...he was interested in her?
Watching as he discussed the yard and plants with her mother, amiable and personable, he acted as though this was the only job that mattered.
After their cool farewell from yesterday, Jennifer couldn’t imagine him feeling anything so personal, doing anything so thoughtful.
But he had. She ventured a peek toward her bedroom. The proof stood clear, perched outside her window.
“The mandevilla is a perfect choice,” her mother said.
Jennifer pulled her thoughts inside out. Jax picked it especially for her.
He stopped shy of the arbor. “Throughout the summer, the red blooms will really light up this space.”
The three of them stood by the pool, the still water reflecting their image in buttery yellow tones. Retiring for the day, the sun had cooled to a soft glimmer. Behind them, the wall fountain added a subtle splash of peace to the air.
Jennifer’s eyes lingered on their mirror image, thinking how they appeared three individuals out for a leisurely stroll.
It was far from reality. Far from the more accurate description of a woman on the verge of death, her daughter mired in reservation, the man caught in between.
“I think this area is my favorite,” Beatrice said, her gaze resting on the fountain, the wrought iron bench nestled nearby, beneath an umbrella of shade. “It’s relaxing.”
“Exactly what we were looking for when we designed this fountain.”
Jax’s eyes sought Jennifer for confirmation, and while she met his gaze, she couldn’t agree. There was no “we” involved in the decision. It had been his. All his.
And it was perfect.
Beatrice looked to her daughter, her eyes gentle yet appraising. “It will be a wonderful place to begin your new life, Jenny.”
Jennifer stared mute.
She turned to Jax, assessing the man before her. “I commend you, Mr. Montgomery. You are a true master. An artist.”
Pride illuminated his smile. He nodded in response, the gesture more bow than nod.
Beatrice glanced between Jax and Jennifer, pausing, as though she intended to add something more, something of significance. Jennifer held her breath, a thousand emotions hanging on the outcome. Jax waited in respectful silence.
Tranquil blue-gray eyes settled on Jax. “I once had a garden... A garden to live by,” she said, nudging a sly smile toward her daughter. “It was my retreat. My private haven tucked away from the pressures of work.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I used to spend hours there, fussing with my flowers, weeding, pruning, savoring my privacy...” Her smile seemed to reach out, and wrap itself around Jax. “Heaven on earth.”