The Heart (4 page)

“As I’m sure you know by the blueprints, this will be a full-service facility. Using a holistic approach, we’ll care for patients with advanced cases in-house through the course of their entire treatment. We want to do something a little different than pump them full of meds, send them home, and hope for shrinking tumors. We want to provide everything from initial diagnosis and treatment to aftercare, including diet, mental, and spiritual ways to help boost morale during recovery.

“Look at the alternative,” I said, turning the key to the cart before I shifted the gear. “You get your chemo in the local hospital, go home and throw up alone at night while trying to hide it from your spouse and terrified children, then go back to work a zombie without any strength. Dallas and I are all for the independent fighter, but we want to change the way this disease is looked at and treated. It’s strongly due to Dallas’s input and her experience as an oncologist. Ultimately, it was her idea to approach treatment as both mental and physical, and not just with a stick of the needle. And here we are.”

He remained quiet, and I began to worry if I’d sold him on the idea. Although his purpose was to prepare the facility, I was curious about his opinion.

“So we grow our own food here to serve the patients. We’ll insist on a strict diet right away—a one hundred percent organic diet—and that’s non-negotiable for all our patients for obvious reasons. Most will feel the effects within the first few weeks.”

“I wasn’t aware of this,” Jack said, surveying our fields.

“It wasn’t in the original plans, just an afterthought. It will all be donated from me to the center because it’s technically my farm. We’ll make sure the food is tested regularly and meets USDA standards, but it cuts costs tremendously.”

“Rose, this is really incredible. What made you decide to open a center?”

“We thought we could do better than simply opening a general practice. It was a lot of things, really. A lot of things,” I said absently. “So we did better, I hope.”

“That’s a coincidence. That’s my uncle’s motto,” he said as he continued his perusal of the never-ending view.

“What was?” I asked as I steered us down the path toward the rest of the facilities. I looked over at him for his response and gave pause when he gave me a heart-stopping grin.

“Do better.”

We took a speed bump at max speed due to my inability to tear my eyes away from Jack. I hit my head hard on the top of the cart and bit my tongue as Jack cursed and grabbed the wheel before we had a chance to abandon the pavement. I managed to stop the cart despite the blinding pain then jumped out in an all-out fit, including tears in my eyes. I jumped around, hysterically flailing my arms, the pain so intense I was wailing new words. “Ghardam, mupherfuter, whatdem hell, owe.” Suddenly whisked into Jack’s arms, he sat down on the grass with me on his lap and stilled me.

“Talk to me, Rose. Is it your head?”

I put my fingers to my lips, recognizing the metallic taste.

“Spit it out, Rose. Let me see your mouth.” I spat out the contents of my mouth then opened wide for him to see.

“Stick out your tongue,” he coaxed gently. I have no idea why I did what he was asking. Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was because the initial humiliation wasn’t enough for me and I wanted to make sure to finish myself off.

“Well, you bit the hell out of your tongue, but I think you’ll survive.” Noticing the pain-induced tears sliding down my cheeks, Jack whisked them away with his fingertips as we sat in the middle of my busy and budding complex. I took in his clean scent as my eyes remained blurred with the intensity of my injured tongue. When the pain began to subside, and I realized we were simply staring at each other, our posture insanely intimate, I jerked back then jumped from his lap, making quick work of resuming my seat in the cart. He slowly stood up, brushed the grass off his jeans, and then slid back into his seat, his lips pressed firmly together.

I took off again at a snail’s pace as Jack chuckled. I couldn’t bear to look at him. When I’d gathered some of my whits back, I stopped in front of a field and tried my best to speak a clear sentence.

“Obder der is the farlm.”

Jack looked at me with wide eyes and declared, “I think we’re done for the day.” There was no masking his hysterical laughter, and after a few indignant seconds, I joined in then winced at the pounding in my head and my throbbing tongue. When our laughter dwindled, I glanced his way as he turned to look at me to make one last joke. “Sure you can handle a scalpel?”

I gave him a warning glare. “Wabt to pway cadaver?” Another bout of laughter kept Jack occupied as I turned the cart around and hauled ass back to the main building.

When we made it to the entrance, my dad was waiting in the lobby. He profusely apologized to us both, saying traffic was hell. Shortly after, the flustered and out of breath Spaniard, who belonged to my sister, hauled ass into the lobby and straight past us with a quick hello. His ass was grass, traffic or not, and he knew it. I grinned as I thought of that confrontation and the inevitable make up. My sister and her husband were more than entertaining to watch.

“Seth, this is incredible,” Jack complimented as he gave my father a congratulatory handshake and pat on the back. It was odd seeing someone close to my age act so informal with my dad. I knew they had worked a few jobs together but wasn’t sure how well they knew each other until now. If my father trusted him, then I trusted him. It was a simple decision.

Excusing myself, Jack gave me a distracted “Thank you for the tour” as I stepped away in search of medical help. I found her doing inventory in the supply closet. I looked around for a scorned Dean but could not find him.

“Dabas, heeelp,” I cried as she glanced at me with a look of alarm.

I stuck out my tongue, which I could tell was swelling, as she studied it with large eyes.

“What in the hell happened, Rose? So you had
that
much fun on your tour?” The tears fell fast as she chuckled then comforted me with a “Poor baby, I’ve got this.”

Later that night, after passing on dinner with Jack and the rest of my family to tend to my bruised ego and swollen tongue, I spent my time looking around my empty house.

“How much do you own?”

“All of it. As far as you can see.”

“It’s amazing.”

“Glad you like it because we’re going to build our house today, Rose.”

“What? I’m not qualified to do that!”

“Neither am I. We’re just daydreaming here.”

I had built the ranch home Grant and I dreamed up that beautiful day on our pond, the day when my heart had found its home. I surveyed the large kitchen and the extra living room. I was the lone occupant in a house that deserved a family. Despite my Dad’s protests to build something new, something different, I had insisted on building the exact home Grant and I had intended. And while I loved every square inch of it, it brought me little comfort. Honestly, it made me feel more alone.

My gaze drifted through the floor to ceiling windows onto the moonlit pond. I flipped the switch to the back porch, illuminating the large space with strategically placed lights. My back porch, along with the house, was nothing short of spectacular. The stone waterfall lit up at intervals in alternating shades of blue, the fire pit had never been used, and I couldn’t ever remember abusing the deck for a day in the sun. Sighing, I returned to my empty house, flipping the switch and ending my private party.

After draining a half bottle of white wine, I slipped into bed, thinking of Jack and his blue-gray eyes. Wincing at the twitch of my sore tongue, I remembered how quickly after I’d met him I’d made a fool of myself. It had felt foreign, but at the same time, it was good to be in a man’s arms again, even if it was only for a brief moment.

“I want you,” he said as water cascaded around his perfect features. “I’ve had enough years of doing the wrong shit and being with the wrong women. I took one look at you and a thousand memories we hadn’t made hit me in waves. I can’t explain it, and it may seem fast to you, but to me, it’s as natural as taking my next breath.” – Grant

“If a seventy-three-year-old man can swim the English Channel, you can get out of bed, Rose.”

Three days at the center. Three full days!

I sat up in bed and stretched my arms and legs, feeling fully rested. Ready to give Dallas a much-needed break, I rushed through a shower and threw on some shorts and an old t-shirt. I raced to my cart, eager to get to the center and to feel a little more involved in the goings-on and a little less guilty about my continued absence. I met Dallas at the double doors as she was walking out. She hooked her arm around mine and changed my direction as she pulled me toward the parking lot.

“Nope, not today or tomorrow. They’re delivering and installing all of the medical equipment, and it’s going to be way too crazy in there, even for us. Mom’s got the kids, and Dean and I are headed to Shreveport.”

“What?!”

“He’s on his way.” She clapped excitedly. “You know I’ve never been to a casino. I’ve never even been to Louisiana.”

“Yeah,” I said, disheartened.

Dallas looked at me then pulled me to her in a brief hug. “It’s okay, Rose. No one blames you for doing what you have to do, like at all. You can’t be the surgeon we need you to be
here
if you don’t put in the time
there
. We’ve mapped this out for years. It’s all falling into place. We’re all proud of you. Just take a day, live a little.”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that!?”

“Because you need it!” she said, exasperated. “We all do, even Dad is a little burned out.”

“Daddy’s burned out?” My shoulders slumped as I thought of how hard my father was working on this project of ours.

“Jesus, Rose, get that guilty fornicating-nun look off your face. Dad’s home with Mom and they are probably arguing about the remote or what to feed the babies. Just go home, sit on that amazing deck, and get some sun, or invite the J's over and have a drink or six. Just do something
other
than work.”