After the Storm (manxman)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

(Dino Hillas, my idea of what Dr. Stephen Giles looks like.)

You would think that the sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline would have lulled me to sleep, but it didn't. For the first night in several weeks my body and my mind realized that I wasn't at home, so therefore it wasn't fooled into getting up in the middle of the night to medicate Jackson only for me to realize that he isn't here anymore. You think that I would have passed out, but no, I am wide awake yet again in the middle of the night. I turned my head and looked at the little digital clock on the bedside table, 12:57 a.m. it read.

Making the decision to get up and go walking on the beach, I threw back the thin covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed and got to my feet. Looking down at myself, I figured I was dressed appropriately enough in my loose fitting boxer shorts and a plain white T-shirt that had belonged to Jackson. I mean, who is going to see me out there this time of the night anyway, and if someone did see me, they were probably going to be wearing a lot less than I was.

My slippers barely made any noise on the veranda as I threaded my way the side stairs that led right down the side of the house and onto the beach. I kicked my sandals off once I reached the bottom of the stairway. I sank my toes into the of the powdery white sand that has been warmed by the sun all day. The stars shone brilliantly over the water and the moon was full and bright and it illuminated the entire beach like the sun did in the middle of the day. It was absolutely beautiful, even the breeze was mild and tempered as it tickled the hem of my clothes and brushed over the surface of my skin. I pulled out the elastic band that was securing my hair in a messy ponytail and shook out my curls letting the salty breeze blow through the mass of curls as I ambled closer to the water.

I wished I had brought a blanket with me or at the very least a towel, but it is what it is and I dropped my ass down on the soft sand and just hoped and prayed that none of the gritty stuff found it's way under my boxers. Nope, getting sand in my boy bits is not and will never be a comfortable thing. I brought my knees up and hugged them to my chest and rested my chin on them.

Looking up at the sky, I wondered if Jackson was up there and I wondered if he was now at peace. I surely hoped so. I couldn't help the smile that curled my lips when I recalled how we met. God the man had made me tongue tied when he had stepped up to the reception desk at the Clinic and gave his name and the time of his appointment. He had turned me stupid when he turned those bright blue eyes in my direction and sadly smiled at me before taking his seat in the waiting area.

I still remember the blush that had burned across my face when I had led him back to the treatment rooms, seated him in a recliner, and prepped his portacath intravenous access to connect with the IV line and the bag of medicine that would deliver his weekly dose of his medications. When I was finished and the medicine was flowing freely through the line and into his arm, I looked up to make sure that he was alright and not feeling any nausea or dizziness.

"Damn, but you are gorgeous. I'm sorry if that may offend you but you are." Jackson had complimented me with a look of pure wonder on his face, then I had watched that wonder turn into something that looked awfully a lot like regret.

For some reason, out of all of my other patients, Jackson's open attitude and his expressive eyes caught and held my heart strings from that very first day. After caring for him for a few of his appointments, I made sure that I was always scheduled to work on the days that he came in, and he made sure that he always scheduled his appointment time so that he would be my last patient for the day. We coordinated it like that so that I had the time to sit and talk to him while he received his medications.