Free Jennifer's Garden by Dianne Venetta Page B

listen,” she said, and reached for Jennifer’s hand.  “Let’s not talk about that anymore.  Let’s talk about you.”  She ushered forth a grand smile.  “You’re going to make a beautiful bride, my dear.”
    Eyes bright and alert, they held the real life in her mother’s fading body and shone without a hint of fear.
    Unlike Jennifer.  She was dreading her mother’s passing.
    Beatrice gestured for her daughter to take her hand, painfully slender fingers covered in a delicate pastry of skin to which she obliged, closing it in her own.  Jennifer gave a gentle squeeze.
    “I’m so happy for you.  Aurelio is a wonderful man, Jenny.”
    She nodded, her response locked in the rigid swell of her throat.
    Her mother eased her head back against the pillow.  “Like your father.  He was a good man...” she said intently.  “And so good to me.  Our life together was filled with love and adventure, everything new and exciting, because we were together.”
    As exciting as Africa she wondered, but didn’t dare broach the subject.  Adding to her mom’s burden was something she was loath to do.  This weight was one she must carry alone.
    “I know you two will be as happy together as we were,” she said in a wisp of breath, and closed her eyes.
    Gone was the rush of panic Jennifer used to experience at the closing of those aging lids, replaced now by tired resignation.  She had long since learned it was a sign of retreat; a relief for her mother to get rest, and not the final goodbye.
    Not until she was ready.  Jennifer dropped any pretense of strength and allowed her head to fall.  The spirit was a powerful force.  Journals had been written on the will to survive and she knew it wouldn’t be extinguished until it was good and ready; her mother’s case in point.
    She had been the driving force behind her daughter’s success.  When Jennifer’s ambition waned, when her confidence sputtered, it was Beatrice Hamilton who ignited her back to life.  She kept her daughter going, kept her focused, providing soft pillows of compassion when she failed.  Jennifer leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her fragile hand, pausing over the faint scent of gardenia.  There was so much she still wanted to share.  Not only the wedding, but her life, her love...
    Children.  Something her mother had wanted so very much but now would never see.  Because cancer had come to call.
    Laying there so peaceful, her eyes closed, a sweet smile resting on her lips.  Jennifer frowned.  It was utterly deceiving.  Little by little the cancer was devouring her spirit, consuming her body, until soon there would be nothing left of her.
    She pulled away.  She wiped the sudden tears from her eyes and blocked her thoughts.  Stop.
    Enough.  It’s what her mother wanted.  Insisted.
    But the tears refused to quit.  Afraid her mother would witness the display of weakness, Jennifer brushed the hair from her face, grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and dried her eyes.  Let it go , she urged herself.  No magic potion can save her life.  No miracle can keep her with you.  Stop wishing for one.
    Jennifer shot up from her chair.  It did nothing to help her mother, or herself.  Breaking down only served to distress.  And she couldn’t do that to her mother, not when she was being so courageous.  “Mom, you need to get some rest.  It’s important to keep up your strength.”
    Beatrice barely nodded, but said nothing.
    The visits were getting harder and harder on her.  She seemed to lose energy so quickly these days.  The doctor in her knew it was common, to be expected, but the daughter in her railed against it with all her might.
    It was the pain that bothered her most.  Her mother was enduring unimaginable suffering to witness her daughter’s marriage, despite countless offers to expedite the process.
    But her mother wouldn’t hear of it.  There would be no courthouse wedding or bedside ceremony for her sake.  Her