Surge (St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders) Book 3: St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders (18 page)

“Mom, you’re not mad about me and Jackson?”

“I would have been upset, but you said it’s been two years. It seems my emotional reaction is not a factor here.” She cleared her throat and cut her eyes to Dad. “
Our
emotional reaction is not a factor. I knew you and Jackson had a connection. I could sense it was deep. It always was. You’ve always been emotionally mature and responsible. You never follow the masses nor is your course led by what’s expected. You’re guided by your heart. In return you require an accepting, giving, and complex individual. Jackson makes sense because he possesses those traits.”

“Dad, You’re on board with this?”

“I agree with your mother. You could do much worse than Jackson Olivier. It was the deception I was upset about.”

Hmm. Despite what they said, she couldn’t have gone to them when she was only sixteen and said:
Hey, I like this guy—he’s ten years older than me and we’re having sex. By the way, it’s Jackson.

Dad’s face held a grimace. Regardless of what he’d said she sensed he was still coming to terms with their relationship. Thankfully, Mom had her thumb on Dad keeping him unruffled.

Eve’s hand grabbed hers. “Don’t you worry, Clara, your brother will come around. I’m slowly working on him.”

Her mother put the lid on a full box of addressed invitations. “Clay loves you very much. Ever since the day you had the accident he’s felt responsible for what happened. Says he should have been there. In the aftermath he’s been overly solicitous of you. He wants to protect you now since he wasn’t able to before. Your brother loves you and wants to make sure you’re safe.”

“He loves his sense of duty more. Never let it be said that Clayton James St. Martin didn’t honor his role as brother to his baby sister or fireman to his city.” She folded her arms across her chest and stewed in her anger. “Besides, the damage has already been done. Jackson broke up with me and apparently he’s moved on.”

“Yes, Clay is driven by his honor. But that’s not a bad thing. No matter what he says he’ll never turn his back on you or Jackson. Give it some time, he’ll come around. And don’t you worry about Jackson. He can’t stay away from you. He never could. Again, give it time.”

Her mother was right. Clay hadn’t turned his back on Jackson and that meant the world to her. It was one of the reasons she couldn’t stay mad at Clay. She only hoped her mother was also right about Jackson.

The door opened and in walked Cory with a puppy in his arms that looked exactly like Cookie must have in his first few weeks of life. Cooing immediately ensued. Eve leaped from her chair and darted up to Cory. “She looks just like Cookie.”

As Whiskey Cove’s only veterinarian, Cory had access to the cutest puppies in town. Cory gave Clara a sympathetic smile. She mouthed a thank you across the table to her brother. “Where’s Clay?” He asked.

“Back yard.” Clara answered.

He mouthed, “
Cookie,
” and pointed toward the back yard. Clara nodded and Cory trekked outside.

That night Clara lounged in bed staring at her phone. It had become her nemesis. She wanted to use it to text Jackson, or better still, to call him and hear his voice in her ear. She exhaled on a sigh. She’d avoided Facebook because she didn’t want more sympathy from her friends regarding her depressing status update. More than once she considered Twitter since Jackson used that platform more than any other because it was quick.

Somewhere she had stored a password to her account. She downloaded the app and ran through a list of possibilities in her head. She tried
Jacksonnbug4ever
 …
Clara-n-
Jackson
 …
CrackerJack
—that worked. She was logged on. She typed his handle in the search bar and accessed his page. On his wall was a tweet from
her
from two days prior
.

Big changes on the horizon. Congrats, Jack! See you soon.

Jack!

She clicked on the woman’s profile. Samantha Boyd. Southwest Louisiana Realtor. Clara had to admit she was certainly beautiful in her sophisticated attire. Her age was also much closer to Jackson’s than Clara’s. Numbness settled deep into her bones as she stared at the image of the cultured woman. A woman who actually looked like the wife of a doctor.

See you soon.

She winced as she read the words again
See you soon.

Many questions tried to pierce her brain and her subconscious just couldn’t wait to make her feel inferior, but she wouldn’t let any of it percolate. Evil penetrating vines of deceit would reach out and strangle her.

She cued up his number and let it ring.

She was desperate to hear him reassure her that it would always be him and her together forever.

It went to voicemail. She let his low masculine voice cascade over her, warming her from the inside out.

“Jackson, I …” she couldn’t very well ask him how his date with Samantha had gone … “I just wanted … I
needed
to hear your voice.” Seconds passed. She exhaled into the phone. “I miss you. Hope you are healing well. I wish I could have helped you more, or just sat with you. Helped you pass the time.” More seconds ticked by. “Um … goodnight Jackson.”

Totally lame, but she had to leave a message because she always did. It was expected. Just like it was expected that without her he would have been in turmoil so great that he’d barely be able to face another waking day, let alone consider dating someone new.

Chapter 20

Jackson retrieved the
mail and a small package. On second look he realized the package was a pill bottle with an address label on it. Strange. There seemed to be something inside of it. He twisted the cap off and pulled out a piece of paper.

The St. Martins were throwing him a graduation party. Celebrating his accomplishment just as any family would do for their son. He knew the proverbial shit had hit the fan that day at the hospital when they’d found out about him and Clara and yet they still supported him.

His heart stopped beating, frozen for a moment as the disbelief settled into his spine. A grin stretched across his face. A thick card fell from the stack of mail in his hands, hitting the ground with a thud. He bent and picked it up. The feel of the textured envelope and padded thickness overwhelmed his already excited senses. He ripped it open to reveal a graduation invitation.
His
graduation invitation.

He unfolded a handwritten note:

Jackson,

We love you and are extremely proud of your accomplishments. Your achievements need to be celebrated. We have big plans. See you soon.

Catherine & Cliff

He placed a hand on his chest and inhaled around the sting in his throat. He loved the St. Martins and he thought if he could make them understand just how much their daughter and sister meant to him they’d be encouraging of his relationship with her. Might they even support him in marrying Clara? He wouldn’t do it if it was without their blessing, but he wouldn’t give up hope.

Inside the apartment he changed into tattered and faded jeans and a snug white T-shirt with paint stains. Sliding into the driver’s seat of his old Honda he prayed the new battery wasn’t dead. When he felt the thrum of the motor vibrate through the dash his lips curved into a smile.

As he drove he thought about the progress he’d made on the little place he’d purchased before he and Clara had split. He’d thought about selling it but he wanted her to have the shop even if he wasn’t in her life to watch her enjoy it. So he’d kept it and he’d been sanding and painting the walls, trying to make it look a little presentable before he let Clara set eyes on it. The place had been a coffee shop so the plumbing and the kitchen were good for Clara’s needs.

Endeavoring to keep himself busy during his hiatus from work and school, he’d laid new laminate floors. He supposed he’d pushed himself too far but truth told, he’d welcomed the steady throb of pain in his forearm. It meant he was doing something that may ultimately make her happy. He owed her this for the friction he’d caused between her and her family.

He parked against the curb and walked up to the little shop. Inside, he inhaled the strong smell of glue and paint. As he looked around at his work he smiled. He could see Clara in here as clear as he could see himself in emergency. Her bubbly personality would attract and develop repeat customers. At the Italian bistro she raked in the tip money. She’d told him it was one of the reasons she continued to work there. He’d tried explaining the tips were good because she was a delight and people would follow and support her wherever she served.

His phone vibrated from his pocket and he pulled it out to answer.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Brian. I’ll be there in about ten minutes with the sign.

“Great. I’m here.”

He slid his phone into his pocket and grabbed a sanding block. The cabinets were almost done. He wondered about letting her pick colors but he knew her favorite color was green. A sage green had caught his eye and he thought black accents would make a chic pallet for an artisan cheese shop. He wanted the place to have a finished appearance before he gifted it to her.

As he painted the final cabinet green, the door opened to admit Brian. Short and squatty, he was sincere about his work. “Howdy.”

“Hey.”

“Floors look good.”

“Thanks, finally got them all down.”

“I’ve got the sign out on the trailer if you want to come take a look.”

“Great.”

Jackson followed him outside. When he untied and pulled the blue tarp away Jackson was amazed.

“It’s just the best. It’s more perfect than I could have visualized.”

“Yeah, I think it will fill up the space nicely.”

Jackson nodded. Brian had cut and molded steel pipe into easy to read yet sophisticated letters that read
: Clara’s Artisan Cheeses
. The whole thing seemed to be held together by invisible wires, yet the sign was sturdy. He’d painted the letters white so that they could be easily read against the black of the building.

“It’s perfect.”

“And did you need it to be hung?”

“Definitely. Do you have an estimate for the job?”

“Since you bought the sign … figure another five hundred.”

Jackson nodded. “That’ll work. Would it be possible to hold off hanging it until next week?”

“Sure, I’ve got some time on Thursday.”

“Perfect. Let me get you a check.”

Walking inside to write the check Jackson couldn’t think of a better way to spend forty-eight hundred dollars. He’d also ordered a couple of display cases to house cheese, but he’d let her determine the rest. He recalled how they’d spent countless hours roaming Ikea as she dreamed of everything she wanted to purchase for her shop.

He wanted to be the one to make her dreams come true.

Chapter 21

Rolling around on
her pink-canopied bed, Clara contemplated readying for Jackson’s graduation day. Her phone beckoned to her from the nightstand and she realized he’d returned her call sometime during the night.

“Clara If I asked you to trust me I would expect you to laugh given our circumstances. I can’t say much now. I’ve actually got to go but I will tell you that things are not always what they seem. Thank you for calling.”

She couldn’t be sure but it sounded like he’d spoken that last bit with a smile on his face. She felt jealous that he would be smiling as she struggled to hold back tears. His extremely strange message left her scratching her head. She tossed her phone into her purse and dressed for the day.

At Jackson’s graduation the call of his name reverberated around the stadium. She watched as he crossed the stage to accept his diploma. Cheers and whistles erupted from the St. Martin section of the auditorium and Jackson waved in their direction.

Outside they waited for him to emerge from the gaggle of graduates. As he walked their way his eyes held steady on hers. His intensity took her breath and stopped her heart. He reached for her and hugged her close to his chest before he greeted the rest of her family.

“We’re so proud of you, Jackson.” Mom said.

He smiled. Behind him a classmate called his name. “The college has set up a reception for the graduates, but I’ll be quick.”

“Great. We’ll see you back at the estate.” Dad hugged Jackson and then Jackson accompanied his peer back inside.

That evening adrenaline thrummed through Clara’s veins enveloping her body in warmth. She was prepared to fight Jackson, Clay, Samantha, and anyone else who tried to stand in her way.

In preparation for the party, she wore a pair of dressy beige-colored shorts with a sash around the waist that she tied into a bow. She paired the shorts with a black silky top. Beneath her blouse she’d donned a tank top that read,
My heart belongs to an E.R. doctor
. She finished the look with a pair of black sandals with gold accents.

The thump of bass could be heard from the lawn. Kickoff was minutes away. She grabbed her gift and headed to the back porch.

When her foot connected with the terra cotta patio tiles she could sense his presence and knew he must already be there. Yearning, strong and pure, coursed through her. Her eyes searched for him and found him sitting under an umbrella speaking with her mother, though his eyes held hers. Their conversation stopped and both of them smiled at her. Time stopped moving and the wind that formerly caressed her skin, ceased. She’d tried to exist without him, but for eleven years he’d been part of her world, her life. Their connection wasn’t only physical, it was cellular.

Collective chatter filtered through the air as she observed additional partygoers trickling in.

“Clara, will you give me a hand with the cake?”

She set her gift on a chair and followed her mom into the kitchen. “What were you and Jackson talking about?”

“Just catching up.”

Clara was suspicious, but knew her mom well enough to know that she wouldn’t give information if she didn’t want to—tight lipped her dad called it.

Grabbing one side of the board while her mom held the other, they gingerly carried the cake out to the patio. Three levels comprised the white cake covered with fondant. The top tier displayed a graduation cap with edible mortarboard and tassel. A medical cross decorated the middle tier and the bottom boasted Louisiana State University gold and purple stripes. A stethoscope decorated the board the cake sat on, along with an edible ribbon that read
Congratulations Dr. Jackson Reid Olivier.

“There. I think that looks good.” Her mom fussed over the angle while audio feedback had several bystanders clutching their ears.

“I’m going to bring out the appetizer platter I made.” Clara said.

“Honey, the whole thing’s being catered by Fat Boy’s Barbeque.”

“I know Mom, but I made something special. It’s just a snack tray with some cheeses.”

“Oh, the cheese you make?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to set it up next to the cake?” She moved the cake to one side.

“Sounds good.”

In the kitchen, Clara opened both doors of the industrial sized refrigerator and pulled a large tray from the shelf. Turning, she almost collided with Jackson. He smiled at her and picked up a bocconcino cheese ball between his fingers and popped it into his mouth. The cheese balls were about the size of cherry tomatoes and she’d arranged the platter with heaping mounds of them, along with fresh basil and red and yellow vine tomatoes. The hors d’oeuvres were seasoned with olive oil, Italian sea salt, and pepper.

She held the platter as she watched him chew. When he finished he selected a tomato and another bocco ball and tossed them into his mouth, one behind the other.

“Bug. I’m—”

Augie and Mia arrived with gifts in hand.

“There he is. Dr. Olivier, I was hoping I could get you to take a look at this oozing sore on my ass.” Augie said.

“Gross.” Mia’s nose scrunched.

“I’m kidding, of course.” Augie took Mia in his arms and passionately kissed her.

Clara’s jaw dropped at the sight while Jackson’s deep blue gaze burned through her.

Augie and Mia finally pulled apart. Mia seemed embarrassed as a deep blush settled across her face and neck. “Congratulations, Jackson.”

They each took turns hugging and congratulating Jackson and then they all three moved outside.

Jackson looked back at her over his shoulder. The words left unsaid sizzled between them.

Once all family and friends had arrived, the party got underway. The DJ had them playing a crazy game of classic Operation, and then pandemonium ensued when he led the crowd in an activity of anatomy identification.

Cash was hosting a serious game of Texas Hold’em at the outdoor bar. Given his background as a world champion poker player, Cash was forced to take the job as dealer because he couldn’t convince anyone to play otherwise.

Clara gasped when she saw
that woman
between Jackson and Parker. She was laughing hard at something that was said. Classic. Clara walked right up to them and greeted the threesome. The woman introduced herself as Samantha Boyd.

Looking at Jackson Clara said, “Can you meet me in the library in five minutes?”

He nodded and said, “I’ll be there.”

Clara’s palms were sweating and her mouth had gone dry. For the first time ever her nerves sizzled in anticipation of meeting him. She grabbed her gift and climbed the stairs toward the library. She stopped at the restroom to splash water on her face. This is stupid. It’s just Cracker Jack. Why was she so nervous? In the back of her mind an evil answer formed—
because you’re afraid this is the last time you’ll see him.

“No!” She cried. She’d fight for him, for
them
.

Opening the door she exited just as Jackson was rounding the top of the stairs.

Her eyes were too wide so she took a deep breath. “Hey.” What else could she say? I miss you? I love you? I’ll fight for you? “It’s really good to see you.”

He took her hand and led her toward the library. “I couldn’t agree more.” He kissed her knuckles. She was so confused, but she shut her mind down and let her heart lead.

“I wanted to congratulate you.” She pressed her lips together to prevent saying how she would really like to congratulate him. She handed him the bag of gifts she’d collected. “You’ve worked hard and you’re a wonderful doctor. The field of emergency medicine is gaining a hero.”

His eyes found hers and the intensity in his stare saw her vulnerability. He sensed that she needed his touch and so he moved in pulling her toward his warm strong body. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Bug.”

“Bug.” She whispered.

His forehead furrowed, his stare curious. “I miss that name.”

He swallowed thickly and then focused on his gift bag. “Now what do we have here?” He pulled out the leather messenger bag and admired the brass plate with his initials engraved on it. “It’s just perfect, Bug. I’ll use it everyday and I’ll think of you.” He smiled. He dug around in the bag and removed the silly pillowcases. “E.R. doctors do it stat.” He laughed—full belly jiggling laughter. “I think I know just the place for these.”

“Our bed … er … I mean your bed. I’d ordered them before …” She choked and her hand instinctively clasped her mouth.

“Bug.” He pulled her into his chest. “I have something for you.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Meet me at this address at ten o’clock tonight.”

“I don’t want my things. They remind me of you so I’ll have to get new things.”

“Be there, Bug.”

“Jackson.” He walked through the door. “Jackson.” She followed after him, but he walked with purpose and waved a hand in the air without looking back.

What was she supposed to do now? He had her things to give back to her. She couldn’t think of better symbolism for the door being shut on their relationship. She wouldn’t go because to do so would be admitting they were through and she just couldn’t do that.

She sat back on the chaise lounge in the library and sobbed. How would she get through this? She cried until her body could no longer make tears. It was getting late and she had half a mind to go to the stupid address and give Jackson a good swift kick in his balls. She sighed.

Her mother entered and sat next to her on the chaise. She patted her hair and Clara rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Her throat was raw from crying.

“To go see Jackson.”

“He told you?”

“He told me to ensure you’d go.”

“I don’t want to go in.” She snorted because she couldn’t breathe. “It’s just too final, I can’t do it.”

“Honey”—she put her hands on Clara’s shoulders—“things aren’t always as they appear.”

She was dumbfounded because Jackson had spoken those same words to her. “Mom?”

“Clara, I can’t get into too much of it right now because we need to go. Trust me. You want to go to the address on that paper.”

“But Mom—”

“Trust me.” Her mother stood and gently guided Clara from the room.

In the car Clara’s mind short circuited as she tried on different scenarios. If Jackson involved her mother he must really want her stuff gone. And why meet at this weird address? Maybe Samantha was already living with him. A gasp escaped her throat as she rested her head against the window.

Her mom placed a reassuring hand on her knee. “Easy, Clara. I promise you’re creating an impossible situation in your mind.”

“What am I supposed to think?”

“I suggest you stop thinking for the time being.” Her mother turned on the radio and Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time” blared through the speakers.

Mom reached out to change the station. “No, I want to hear it.”

They parked on the curb somewhere in downtown Baton Rouge. She knew this place. It was dark, but still familiar. She looked left, then right. “Hey, we’re at Bon Mange. What are we doing here?”

“I can assure you we’re not going to Bon Mange. We’re going across the street.” She indicated the direction with a toss of her head.

“Mom, you know this place?”

“I do.”

Her mother opened the door to a blank storefront and Clara walked into a dark space. “There’s no one here.”

Overhead lights came to life and illuminated the space. Her entire family was standing before her. Her mother whispered in her ear from behind, “We’re all here baby, because we love you.”

Clara’s eyes scanned from brother to brother. Her sisters-in-law were all there as well. In sum, six sets of St. Martins stood before her, along with her mom and dad. Her eyes landed on a large sign,
Clara’s Artisan Cheeses,
leaning against three cheese cases. The middle case was operational and full of cheese. Her jaw dropped. She observed her brothers. Most of them smiled. However, Clay looked just as confused as she felt.

Her smile slowly stretched across her face and she let out the breath she’d been holding. “I love it! But what’s going on?”

Footsteps thudded across the floor behind her brothers. She couldn’t see who it was, but heard the sound of determined shoe soles hitting the wood floor. Then she saw him. Her knees weakened and her smile waned, replaced by shock.

“Jackson,” She whispered. He wore a classic black tuxedo complete with bowtie and looked more ravishing than she’d ever remembered.

He stood before her and offered a nervous chuckle. His eyes cast down for a few seconds. The room was so quiet she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. When his gaze returned she knew he’d regained his composure and was about to share something that would change everything.

“Clara. I owe you and your family an apology.” He took her hands in his and intently gazed into her eyes. “What I did was wrong. No matter how much I loved you, I shouldn’t have touched you. I should have waited, but I was weak. I needed your innocence and goodness that day”—his voice cracked—“and every day since.” His eyes held steady on hers as moisture collected in them. “I’ve loved you since I was seventeen and you were seven.”