Jackson's mind reeled. It'd only been a couple of hours since he'd been with his dad and now he was in the hospital? When he left Greer's, he'd called Ian to get details. The words possible heart attack thundered in his ears. He'd given little thought to life without parents. That worry, reserved for twenty years down the road. At fifty-six, Dad could easily live till then...or longer.

Then there was the situation with Greer. What was that about? Couldn't deal with it at the moment, but once Dad got out of the woods, Jackson planned a long conversation with her. Why stop the meetings? Had she met someone?

With that thought, his mind spiraled out of control. A bad boy who'd never give a shit about Greer or Emma? Why not? She'd convinced herself that's all she deserved.

Why did Jackson even care? He barely knew her.

Not true.

He'd already learned more about her than most women he dated.

In fifteen more minutes he'd be at Thomas Infirmary. Ian had told him to come to emergency. According to his brother, Dad never lost consciousness. Light headed and arm tingling, Mom insisted he go to the hospital. He agreed only if she drove him.

Talk about stubborn. Greer was in the same category. Maybe her reason was as simple as she claimed. But she wasn't taking too much of his time. Hell, he wasn't seeing her enough. Sure, he'd told himself not to get involved, but last night when she looked as if she wanted his kiss, that notion became history.

There could be more than friendship. Well, if she'd forgive him for lying and stay in Fairhope. Two major hurtles, but not impossible.

What would he do if Dad died? What about Mom? Didn't want to think about that. She'd be lost. They'd been together so long. Without him, a big part of her would die, too.

Jackson's chest tightened. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when business was so good, and he'd finally met a woman who he could see himself with. Shouldn't even be thinking about her, but that was easier than facing dad's condition might be serious.

He turned into the parking lot and found a space near the entrance which was a miracle within itself. Maybe that was an omen. God's way of getting Jackson in there as soon as possible to see his dad one last time. He stepped out of the truck and leaned both hands against the door.

Be strong and stay positive, he told himself. He pushed away and rushed across the pavement at a fast clip.

Once inside, he strolled down the long, tiled corridor, which seemed to get longer with each step. He'd always hated hospitals. It was the only place where he'd seen his father cry. Accidents. Those were the Bellefonte curse. Not heart trouble. First, Dad's parents killed in a boating mishap, then Ian sentenced to life in a wheelchair from a car wreck.

He rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of his mother. She wasn't crying, so that that encouraged him. He rushed and wrapped her in his arms. "How's Dad?"

"They're still doing tests, but so far, they don't think it was a heart attack."

She trembled when she said it and Jackson glanced at Ian. He nodded agreement, and relief overwhelmed Jackson. "Thank God."

Mom pulled away. "He's been working too hard and if he wants to or not, he's got to slow down. You've got to make hiring an intern a priority. Regardless of what the doctor finds, I want your dad to cut back to three days a week."

Guilt churned in Jackson's gut. She'd asked him to do that, and he'd put it off. If he hadn't, this might not have happened. My fault. And that hurt. "Don't worry. I'll start on it first thing tomorrow, and until I get someone, I'll take up the slack. I haven't been pulling my load, but I'll change that."

"No, that isn't what I meant. You work hard, too, and I don't want to trade one worry for another."

Her voice quivered, and Jackson decided maybe it was a good thing Greer didn't want to see him anymore. At least he'd have plenty of work to keep him busy.

*

Greer curled on the sofa in her holey pajamas finishing her second glass of wine. Emma had been asleep for an hour, and to keep Greer's mind off Jackson, she'd done several readings.

She kept telling herself she'd made the right decision for everyone. Couldn't allow deeper feelings, and Emma didn't need the separation anxiety sure to come when they left town. Whether he knew it or not, this was the best thing for him, too.

He deserved a proper woman who'd sit on the front pew at every service. Gaze at him with pure love and admiration as he delivered sermons to a congregation that appreciated such a devoted wife. One to take charge of the ladies Bible study, head up the Wednesday morning prayer breakfast, chaperone youth group field trips. Homemade bread would be among her specialties. She'd spend summers making jam and building houses in a third world country. She'd do all that, and in her off time, spit out beautiful, dimpled babies.

Greer drained her glass and refilled it. Yep, years from now, he'd look back at the time he'd spent with her and thank the Lord she was nothing but a memory. A half-hippie-half-gypsy-card-reading-non-Episcopalian who couldn't even bake cookies, much less bread.

Right before he bolted like an angry bull, his face had gone ghost white, and she wondered about the call. It had to be serious, or he would have stayed and argued. Whatever it was, she couldn't contact him to find out. That would reopen the door she'd closed. Well, from his expression, more like slammed. She'd even surprised herself with the ultimatum. She'd not planned it. But it had to be done. And now that it had—what next?

Gulping the last bit of her wine, she poured another glass, because she did her best thinking when half-drunk. She should sign up for a cooking class. That was a great idea. Pulling the laptop onto her thighs, she searched the local offerings.

Hmm, several online sites. One scheduled at the university campus, but it was at night. Not convenient. Continuing to scroll, nothing popped up, until the last item on the page. Private lessons for beginners to gourmet cooks. From the drop down menu, available classes and cost appeared. She clicked the contact button and requested a ten a.m. slot.

Okay, this was going well. She'd do readings from 8-10, cook until noon, and still work in errands and car pool. Once Emma came home, Greer would be so busy, she wouldn't think about Jackson, let alone miss him.

In the next half-hour, she arranged her first lesson, and met the instructor, Chef Sean, via skype. Any other time, she'd be excited to have such a gorgeous teacher. But his bio stated those deep brown eyes, blond hair, and teeth so perfect they should be in a toothpaste commercial, belonged to his partner, Marc.

Just as well.

With the bottle almost empty, she strolled to the counter for more. In the middle of the room, she spun around, waved her arms as if claiming the territory, and announced. "Soon, I will be the queen of this domain. And probably have my own cooking show." She took a minute to consider that. She could call it Greer's Recipes. Esurience Evergreen. Bitchin' Kitchen.

Before she issued more proclamations, her phone chimed. Slipping it from her pocket, she placed it to her ear. "Hello."

"Greer, please let Emma call me tomorrow. I want to explain why I have to cancel Saturday."

"Oh. I only meant to stop our meetings. We can do the adventure."

"No. My dad's in the hospital and I won't be available. I still plan to take her to the dance. That's two weeks away and he should be home by then."

"I'm so sorry. Is it serious?"

"Not sure yet."

"Jackson..."

He cut her off. "No. I've been thinking and you're right. We don't need to keep meeting. You're doing fine, so you don't need me anymore. Just give Emma the message."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Greer."

And just like that, he gave up without a fight which convinced her she'd been right all along. He'd realized she'd been a waste of time and that made her want to cry. And when he ended the call, she did.

The next morning, head pounding from the wine and tears, Greer made plans for a new adventure. Emma needed a dress for the dance, but somehow, shopping for clothes didn't sound as exciting as feeding wild animals from a van painted like a zebra and drive-in movies.

By ten o'clock, Emma called Jackson and got the news. He hadn't asked for Greer, which wasn't surprising. After the firm goodbye from the night before, she doubted he'd ever speak to her again.

Across the room, Emma held Medusa and Mordecai.

It broke Greer's heart to see her so sad. She'd not cried when Jackson explained, but all the light had gone out of her eyes. "If you could have any color hair you wanted, what would you choose?"

"Purple," she mumbled.

"Really? I thought for sure you'd say pink."

Emma say nothing, just clutched her kittens. Greer wouldn't give up. "I know you're sad about Jackson cancelling, so what do you say we create our own adventure. We can get a mani and pedi, and then dye our hair purple."

Emma's eyes widened. "You mean get my hair dyed purple? For real?"

"Yep."

"Can I get my ears pierced, too?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Can I get a tattoo?"

"Hey, let's not go crazy."

Other than the halves shaved head her freshmen year in college, Greer had kept the same hairstyle. Except for orange one Halloween, then black during her Goth period, and once, green on a dare to match her name to hair. But today, she was feeling wild, and besides, if she got her network series, she needed to stand out in the crowd, and purple would do that for sure.

--------------------------------------------

Yikes. Will Jackson's father be okay?

Will Jackson and Greer resolve their issues?

ALSO, dedicating this chapter to Kiawathekpop because she's such an excellent person and even came up with Jackson and Greer's shipper name - Greson!

Til next time,

x zuz