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He didn’t want to say it, but it was quiet.
I mean, he didn’t say it out loud, that would only cause whatever karma was out there in the universe to come bite him on the ass, but the Pitt was pretty dead for a Thursday evening at 11:00pm.
He sat at one of the computers inputting the details of his last patient, vaguely aware of the ED revolving around where he sat. It was almost like white noise to him now, the sound of distant beeping, gurneys being trailed through, patients conversing with nurses. And annoying doctors who didn’t know what to do with too much time on their hands.
“But seriously, if you had feet for hands-”
“I am not even entertaining this conversation, latte boy. Regardless, the answer is clearly hands for feet.”
“-that’s latte man to you Ellis, thank you very much. And what do you mean clearly-”
Jack groaned at the sound of their bickering of his two subordinates as they lounged standing near the nurse’s desk, accompanied by the typical obnoxious slurping of Shen’s iced latte that seemed to be permanently attached to his hand.
Putting in his last touches to his report, he submitted it to internal review and logged out of his computer, pressing his thumb into his temple to erase the pain that had started accumulating behind his eyes.
He slowly drew to standing and limped slightly, noting that it was too early in the evening to be feeling the ache in his prosthetic, making a mental note to check the silicone sleeve placement on his break. Which looked like it might actually happen tonight.
“Kids, enough fighting.” He murmured as he pushed past them to check out the board for anything new that had come in.
Ellis rolled her eyes as Jack pushed past her, and turned her sarcastic gaze to where the older man was standing stiffly with his arms crossed, “Ok boomer.”
Jack sighed, “I’m not-”
Shen snorted, taking a slurp of his drink as he followed Ellis’ lead and swivelled to face him, “Boss, when are you going to realise she does this on purpose?”
Jack turned his head to give them both a dry look, “Don’t two night shift attendings have better things to do than bicker in the middle of my ED like children?”
“Your ED?
“Children?” They both exclaimed mockingly with raised eyebrows.
Jack rolled his eyes, ignoring them both before nodding to Lena, their night shift charge nurse for the evening, “Got anything good for me Lena?”
“Um, nothing life threatening,” Lena leant down to look at her screen, clicking through the ER admissions list, “We’ve got a suspected food poisoning in room 3, a child who swallowed a lego piece in room 9, and a superficial lac in bay 11.”
Nothing super exciting, but he’d take what he can get, “Thanks Lena, just for the sass Ellis you can take the food poisoning. Shen, lego.”
The two groaned, but moved towards their rooms as directed.
Jack slowly moved towards his bay, his limping gait more noticeable with the lack of urgency in approach to his next patient. He wondered if maybe even as well as a decent break tonight, he could take his leg off for a while. A true rarity nowadays, who says he couldn’t be taken by surprise every now and again?
Turns out, he could be taken aback more than once this evening.
He reached up to grab the curtain and pulled it back to reveal his next patient, who was quite possibly one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen in person.
She was lounging on the bed in the bay, a stark bundle of colour against the dreary medical white bedspread, backdrop of machines and overhead fluorescent lights. Wrapped up in a lilac chunky cardigan around her shoulders, she was dressed in a green apron with a floral decal logo on the front and some writing he couldn’t make out, which covered a full black outfit and some old sneakers. But what Jack did notice was her beautiful wide eyes, her pouty lips and high cheekbones beneath a wild halo of black curls. She jumped at the screech of the curtain being pulled, her head snapping up to see him standing at the end of her bed, and his eyes quickly darted away from her angelic features to where her right arm was clutching a bunch of gauze against her left forearm.
He shook himself out of his stupor, realising he’d been staring at her for a few seconds too long, “Apologies for the wait ma’am, we had a bit of a backlog to get through earlier so I appreciate you waiting.”
She settled as she took in his standard black scrubs, “No problem, Doctor-?”
He stared at her, her murmured voice still ringing in his ear before he realised she was waiting for him to respond, “Abbot. Jack. I mean, I’m Doctor Jack Abbot.”
A small smile crept onto her face as he stumbled over his words, “It’s nice to meet you Doctor Jack Abbot.”
He definitely didn’t get enough sleep last night; a pretty girl looked at him and he was falling apart. How old was he?
“It’s nice to meet you too-” He trailed off as he reached down to grab the tablet with her chart from the end of her bed.
“Samira Mohan.” She murmured the answer for him and he desperately tried to lock into reading the words on the page in front of him, there were actual words on the page right?
“Ms Mohan,” He slung the tablet so it rested on the rail again, reaching behind him to close the curtain again, “What brings you into the ED this fine Thursday evening?”
Samira’s eyes cast down embarrassingly so to where she was clutching her arm, “I got into a fight with a pair of scissors and they won.”
He tried to suppress the wry smile threatening to take over his face as he leant down and grabbed the rolling stool next to the wall, “Rookie mistake, the only thing beating a pair of scissors is a rock.”
She turned her head to look at him with a dry expression as he sat on the stool and rolled to pull up next to the bed, “Very funny. You’re proud of that one, aren’t you?”
He sent her a cheeky grin, “Very.” He leant up to the wall and fished out a pair of gloves before turning back to her, “So what did the scissors do to you?”
Samira sighed, letting her head drop back onto the pillow beneath it as she kept her eyes on him snapping his gloves on, “I was trying to cut the stems of some particularly beautiful hydrangeas, but ultimately lost the battle when the scissors slipped and cut me instead.”
“A home job?” He frowned as he slipped the left glove on.
“No,” She whined, “I’m a florist,” She motioned to her outfit and he couldn’t help but take a whiff of the beautiful scent of eucalyptus coming off of her, a nice change of scent from the putrid things he usually smelt in the ED, “You’d think I’d be better accustomed to this by now.”
Jack snorted a little, looking up at her through his eyelashes, “Well we can’t all be perfect.”
She blushed hotly under his gaze, and he found himself thinking he wanted to make her do it again. She was even more beautiful with her cheeks tinged with pink.
He gently placed a hand over her left hand and lifted it and the gauze up from where they clutched at her forearm, and she hissed a little as the pressure eased off and he got a glance at the luckily superficial cut on her arm.
“Sorry,” He murmured to her as he peered at the dried blood and the purple bruising blossoming around the cut, “Good news, it doesn’t look infected, hasn’t hit any veins or ligaments. Bad news, you will need stitches.”
She sighed, “Just what I needed this week.”
“Hey, it could be worse,” He wheeled himself over to the metal trays in the corner to grab all the materials he’d need to stitch her up, “We could’ve had to chop the limb off.”
She let her head drop back heavily against the pillow, “At least make it a leg, I need both my hands.”
He froze with his hands holding the disinfectant, knowing she had no way of knowing her unfortunate word choice. He cleared his throat, “Yes well, from the one-working-leg club, I’m inclined to agree with you.”
Her head snapped up at his words, her eyes looking down to his legs and where a small hint of metal was poking out of his scrub pants.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” She looked mortified as her good hand came up to cover her mouth.
He shrugged, his hands still holding the disinfectant, “Don’t worry about it. Unless you’re the one that blew it off, then I’d really need to chop your arm off for revenge.”
She shut her eyes, utterly mortified and hid her face with her hand, “That was so insensitive of me.”
“Eh, you didn’t know.” He murmured as he started to drag the tool around the angry skin, “Plus you’re not wrong. I’m glad to still have both my hands.”
She moaned in embarrassment, “Can we please pretend I didn’t say that?”
He glanced up at her through his eyebrows, “Sure, sweetheart.”
She now hid her face again for a different reason, pretending like the way he’d whispered the term of endearment didn’t make her chest feel warm.
“This will sting just a little bit,” He whispered as he applied the numbing solution around the wound and she hissed through her teeth.
“Fuck!” She gritted her teeth.
“Language, Ms Mohan.” He jabbed back at her, chuckling as he prepared the needle and thread to stitch her up.
She rolled her eyes and he gave the solution a moment to settle on her wound before he started suturing her skin together, trying not to think about how smooth her skin felt beneath his fingertips.
He heard the curtain open a little behind him and paused, glancing over to see the young night shift nurse Bridget poke her head in, “Everything good in here, Doctor Abbot?”
“Yes thank you Bridget, but would you please mind grabbing Ms Mohan some water?” He murmured.
“You got it.” Before Samira could protest, Bridget had slipped away and she looked back down at the man next to her, smirking to himself as he carefully sewed her skin back together.
“You’re a nuisance, aren’t you?” She assessed him.
“Guilty as charged,” He spoke without looking up, “So how did a woman like you decide she wanted to become a florist?”
Samira shifted a little in her seat, “Well like any young girl, I decided I wanted a life of standing on my feet for 14 hours with early-onset back pain, having hands so dry they crack, and ending up in ED’s at nearly midnight.”
Jack didn’t respond to her stab at humour and instead met her eye as he knotted the thread, raising his eyebrows as if to say no, seriously.
Samira saw that he wasn’t going to buy into her automatic and socially acceptable response, and cast her eyes downward as her good hand threaded through the woven holes in her cardigan.
“Fine, you asked for it. My dad died when I was thirteen.” Jack stilled for a moment, immediately regretting pushing her to answer truthfully, “He had chest pain and after being evaluated by an ED physician, he was sent home. Turns out it was a heart attack.”
Jack leaned back in his stool as her stilted words washed over him, his eyes piercing into her own as she continued, “After he passed, it was days of endless processions of family members coming in and out of the home to pay their respects. At the time it felt quite superfluous really, all these people in my life I’d never met coming to say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ to my mum and I and stuffing flowers in our hands.”
“I remember being so angry, where were all these people to care for us when he was alive? Did they think flowers were going to fix the grief I was feeling? Putting a bandaid on a gaping wound that would never heal?”
Samira couldn’t make eye contact but continued, “After about three days of crying myself to sleep and not eating, I broke down. Exploded at everyone around me, throwing their flowers and presents everywhere, until my Ammaachi pulled me out into the garden. I cried and cried into her shoulder, and after a while she said to me ‘Kannu, these people want to show you love but sometimes there are not enough words to say how they feel. Sometimes flowers tell more than words ever could, and they remind us that even on our worst days, there is still a capacity for joy’.”
Jack’s chest split open at those words, the relatability to her feeling immense loss opening up his own wounds of grief. He could feel the clog in his throat as he tried to swallow, and her eyes flashed up to his own as she continued.
“So,” Samira blew out a breath, “That’s when I realised what my purpose was in the world. I wanted to become a florist, to be a person that can create joy. Even when grief makes expressing joy hard.”
Jack cleared his throat as he recommenced his threading, “That’s a very noble pursuit.”
Samira snorted, “I wouldn’t say noble, maybe a little selfish that I have to leech off others to find joy. I mean most days it feels a lot more superficial than I’d like it to be, usually most of the time it’s forgetful husbands on their wife’s birthday or graduation celebrations. It’s still nice, I’m not demeaning those people, but it’s hard to feel like I’m making a difference, you know? Unlike your job.”
“Mine?” He blanched.
“Yeah,” She waved her other hand vaguely in his direction, “Doctors and healthcare workers, people who actually help and care for our community.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s entirely true.” He murmured.
She frowned, “Huh?”
Jack quickly glanced up at the uncertainty in her face before continuing, “I think you’re selling yourself short here. I think caring for people comes in many forms, not just medical, and sometimes love and joy are better than any medicine. Sometimes love can be life saving. Maybe like you said, florists are like a conduit for people who don’t know what to say or how to say it. Like a translator.”
He stopped for a moment to really stare at her this time, the hesitancy in her face telling him not many people telling her the truth of what he saw in front of him, someone who cares deeply. “What you do is important, Ms Mohan, but maybe you’re just trying to find the reason why you became a florist in the first place. Maybe you need to figure out who needs that care, that love the most.”
She was quiet for a moment, her eyes observing his quiet demeanor as he slowly but surely recommenced working on repairing her wound.
The two slipped into a comfortable conversation until he’d finished up the suture, Jack disinfecting it once again before applying antiseptic cream, Samira sipping away at her cup of water as she watched him intently as he put on gauze and wrapped it to her forearm.
He found himself lingering as he gave her discharge instructions, stripping his used gloves off and putting them in the bin, “We’ll go via Lena on your way out and get your prescription printed. Remember, the cut needs some time to heal so don’t take off the bandage for 48 hours ok? Then go to your local GP in a week to get your stitches reassessed to get taken out, or the non-urgent walk-in centre next door should be able to help you if you get stuck.”
She slowly slid off the bed until she stood right in front of him, looking up at him with her wide eyes searching his face, a gratefulness there that took him by surprise, “Thank you, Doctor Abbot.”
“You’re welcome.” He murmured, a small smile growing on his usually stoic face.
The heavy cardigan she wore started to slip off her shoulders, “Oh-”
“Allow me.” He reached around her, and held up the shoulders so she could slip her good arm through the sleeve first, before gingerly sliding in her bandaged arm through the other sleeve. Luckily the sleeves were ballooned and didn’t touch her forearm, but she was careful anyway as she used her good hand to wrap the cardigan around herself and remove her hair from beneath the collar.
As she did so, he was once again taken aback by the waft of fresh flowers that held onto her hair and clothes, as well as what he could assume was her own scent of vanilla. It overwhelmed his senses, and Jack couldn’t help the slight hiccup on the intake of air into his lungs.
She paused for a moment, looking up at his stiff posture, “Are you ok?”
“I just-” He hesitated for a moment as he met her gaze, “You smell really nice.”
Her lips turned up at the remark, reaching down to pick up her patchwork quilt shoulder bag, “Working with fresh flowers all day will do that to you. Must be quite different to the usual smells around here.”
“You have no idea.” He sighs, distracted by the vision in front of him.
“Hmm.” She parroted back, her eyes looking up at him cheekily, “Well I think I’ve taken up enough of your time this evening, Doctor Abbot.”
God, he liked the way she said his name, “I’d say you’re always welcome but I don’t tend to want to see patients in my ED again, but for you I’ll make an exception as long as you don’t make any more comments about lack of limbs.”
Samira groaned, her head tipping back, “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
His eyebrow raised at her, he started to move backwards to the curtain as he gave her a cheeky grin, “Never.”
He flung open the curtain and made him over to where Lena stood at the nurse’s desk, “Lovely Lena, would you please get Ms Mohan here a print out of her prescription and discharge papers?”
“Yes, Doctor Abbot,” Lena murmured distractedly as she navigated files on the screen before glancing up to Samira who came to stand next to Jack, “He didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”
Samira leaned forward conspiratorially, “Is he always this much of a flirt?”
Lena grinned at her, “Only to keep his patient satisfaction scores up.”
Samira swivelled to face him, a pleased smile on her face, “I knew you were only being nice to me for a good review.”
He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his scrubs, mainly to make sure they didn’t do something stupid like tuck the errant curl on her cheekbone behind her ear, “What can I say Ms Mohan, you had me on my best behaviour.”
Samira tried to hide the wry grin from her face as she took in his matching grin looking down at her, her face sobering slightly as she remembered their conversation, “It was interesting meeting you Jack Abbot.”
Jack blinked back at her, “Likewise, Samira Mohan.”
As if feeling the gravity hanging in the air between them, he shook himself off and pointed at her arm as he moved back to grab the tablet with her chart, “Take care of that arm, and no more fighting with scissors!”
She shook her head at his ridiculousness, before turning back to Lena to give her health insurance information.
Jack couldn’t help the small smile on his face, all previous aches he might’ve had no longer bothering him. He was still thinking about their interaction as he retrieved the chart tablet and moved towards the consoles near the back of the ED, shaking his head at both of their ridiculousness. As he moved away, he couldn’t help one last glance back at her, finding her eyes trained on him as she spoke to Lena, and she gave him a small wave.
His own hand lifted automatically to return it, and he turned to find a computer but found Shen and Ellis standing in his way.
Ellis’ eyes narrowed at Jack’s uncharacteristic smile on his face, her eyes running between his face and the shape of Samira being discharged, “What’s that all about, boss?”
Jack shrugged as he tried to steel himself, knowing these two would not let up if they smelt a hint of drama, “Nothing, just discharging a patient.”
“A very pretty patient. A very pretty patient who you can’t stop looking at.” Shen crossed his arms with a cheeky grin on his face.
Jack rolled his eyes at the two of them, “Ms Mohan was merely thanking me for stitching her up. Because that’s what doctors do, their jobs. You should both try it some time.”
Ellis exchanged a look with Shen before taking one last glance at Samira as she prepared to leave, “Who knew that boss man had this kind of game? She's way out of your league.”
Jack huffed and pushed through the two of them to sit down at the computer next to them, bringing Samira’s chart up on the tablet to complete her file.
Samira Mohan.
A name he didn’t think he’d be forgetting anytime soon. He glanced sideways, watching her smile kindly at Lena, waving to Bridget as she slowly shuffled out of the ED, soaking in the ruffled curls and heavy lilac cardigan until it disappeared out of sight. He wondered if he should’ve followed her, maybe offered to meet her again. It shocked him, this almost instant kinship he felt with the younger woman, and it rattled him that he hadn’t felt like this about another person in years.
But reality started to crash back down watching her leave, he remembered that she was his patient and he her doctor, nothing could have come from it. Two ships passing in the night, briefly meeting in the middle before going onto their own due courses.
He also became aware of the heavy weight of the ring on his left hand, the ring that had made his fourth finger its home, even after Gen had passed. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of it as he twirled it absentmindedly around.
Maybe this moment was enough for now.
—---
It had been over a week now since that fateful shift, and the endless teasing from both Shen and Ellis had only just started to die down. But just like any hospital, the ED was a breeding ground for gossips who’d latch onto anything, and soon enough the word had spread of the ‘forbidden night shift doctor x patient’ romance.
Princess and Perla couldn’t stop making pointed remarks; asking if she’d left her number, did she live in Pittsburgh?
He’d even had Doctor Javadi come up to him at the end of his shift to ask whether she could post about their supposed romantic encounter on her TikTok. He didn’t quite know what to make of her request, and merely stared her down until she’d nervously backed away.
Which led him to a week later, arriving early to his night shift. Because why be existential at home listening to his police scanner, when he could be existential here?
He shouldered his go bag and approached the ED through the ambulance bay, noting the gurneys being wheeled in and the setting sun that seeped through his legs as he walked inside.
He glanced around the waiting room as he waded through the crowd, his brain already starting to filter out of the cacophony of people coughing, kids crying and monitors beeping as he scanned his pass and entered the ED.
Only to pull up short at the unexpected view of one Samira Mohan standing at the nurse’s desk.
Her back was to him but he was sure he could spot her out of a busy crowd. Her loose curls were pulled back into a claw clip, her lithe body clothed in a floral sundress of red and white and sandals adorning her beautiful bronzed legs. The large, multicoloured bunch of flowers cradled in her arms was also a dead giveaway.
He shook his head at his own hesitation, steeling his shoulders as he slowly approached the desk. Lena and Dana were huddled behind the desk, both of them looking adoringly up at Samira as she spoke animatedly to them, and they both eyed his approach with a knowing curiosity.
He came to stand next to Samira, leaning over to murmur into her ear, “What did we agree upon Ms Mohan? No more fights with scissors.”
She whirled around to face him, and his heart stuttered a little at seeing the brilliant smile light up her face, her berry covered lips turning upwards, “Doctor Abbot.”
He gave her a matching smile, forgetting all about their small audience that were watching them like Christmas had come early, “What brings you here on a Friday? Surely no more cuts that need stitching, or are you here to decrease my patient satisfaction score again?”
She rolled her eyes at his teasing, before motioning to her arm, “Before I left last time, Lena kindly offered to let me know when the ED was quiet,” She smiled fondly at Lena, “To get one of the med students to get my stitches out.”
“Did she now?” Jack turned his curious gaze to Lena who was looking up at him innocently. That was certainly not a service they offered to just anyone.
“That and,” She shuffled the bunch of flowers to show Jack, “I wanted to show my appreciation for the team here at PTMC for taking such good care of me.”
Oh. Jack thinks his heart might combust in his chest.
“That’s very kind of you.” He said, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
She beamed up at him, before remembering, “Oh, and I can’t have my favourite doctor going under appreciated,” She peered into the bunch of flowers, as if making a tough decision before gently extracting a singular lillie and handing it to him, “For you.”
He thinks his heart might stop. He couldn’t remember the last time (if ever) that he’d been given a flower that wasn’t at a funeral or a wedding. He could feel his cheeks starting to bloom bright red as he gently took the lillie from her slender hand, their fingers brushing intimately as he looked between the flower and her grateful smile.
“Thank you.” His voice definitely cracked now.
“I also thought about what you said,” She continued a bit more hesitantly, “About finding a way to give love and joy to those that need it. Turns out your hospital has a volunteer program, and Dana here has just emailed me the application. Might do me some good rather than wasting my life away working long days.”
His eyes lit up, “I think that sounds like a great idea, Ms Mohan.”
She gave him a wry look, “I think at this point you should call me Samira.”
“Ok, Samira,” he tested out her name on his tongue, taking delight in watching a blush spread across her cheeks, “Only if you call me Jack.”
The two of them stood there smiling at each other like idiots, and he became very aware of the two middle-aged women getting front row seats to this interaction, biting their tongues as they watched this all play out. Oh he’d definitely be getting grilled by them later.
“Right, well,” Samira stuttered a little before gently lifting the bouquet and handing them to Lena, “These are from me to you all, thank you for taking care of me.”
“You are welcome here anytime, doll face.” Dana drawled genuinely, looking between the literal embodiment of sunshine and the usually reserved attending physician who was avidly avoiding eye contact with her. This would definitely be adding fuel to the fire in the Pitt gossip train.
Samira dusted her hands before turning back to Jack, whispering a little, “Bye.”
“Bye Samira.” He whispered back, before watching her slowly walk away, leaving a cloud of floral scents in her wake, and he had to physically hold back his body that instinctively wanted to follow her.
He looked down at the delicate lillie in his hand, twirling it slightly before taking a small sniff of the powdery, clean scent.
Realising there was an uncharacteristic silence in the wake of her leaving, his eyes lifted to see the incredulously delighted faces of Lena and Dana as they looked up at him.
“Shut up.” He grumbled as he moved away.
Dana started to cackle, shouting out after him, “Oh buddy, you’re in big trouble.”
He ignored their insistent stares as he walked towards the staff locker room, twirling the lillie in his hand absentmindedly. Thinking about the woman who had literally brought life to the ED.
—-
It was a week later that he brought a patient up to the oncology ward, having a rare moment to be able to hand over a patient to the oncologist upstairs himself. As he slowly made his way back down the corridor to the lifts, he did a double take upon seeing Samira Mohan sitting at the bedside of a small child, her brilliant smile seemingly contagious as the young girl gave her a smile in return as she carefully grasped the small bunch of daisies Samira handed her. Jack’s heart stuttered a little at seeing Samira smile down at the girl as she pointed out something to the girl, and he noticed her fiddling a little with the volunteer badge attached to her jumper.
“Doctor Abbot, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” Jack swivelled on the spot to see one of the hospital’s social workers, Kiara, approaching him in the hallway with a clipboard in hand.
“Just handing over a patient to Oncology.” He left it at that, but Kiara as observant as ever followed where he had been gazing into the room next to them, where Samira was pointing out petals.
“Ah yes, Samira. She signed up to do some volunteer work last week, honestly she’s been such a godsend. I haven’t seen some of these kids smile as much as they have when she brings them flowers from her shop.” Jack swallowed as Kiara praised Samira, as she should.
Samira Mohan, he was learning, was like sunshine in human form. And her contagion was spreading throughout the hospital.
Kiara turned to look at the usually suave doctor only to see a look of hesitancy on his face as he looked at Samira, and her head tilted in curiousness, wondering what was happening here.
“Do you know her, Doctor Abbot?” Kiara questioned him.
Jack shook himself out of his staring, clearing his throat, “Only in passing. Right well,” He rubbed his hands nervously, “I better be going, as you know the ED waits for no one.”
And with that he walked off, leaving a confused Kiara in his wake, glancing between the retreating man and Samira Mohan.
—-
She continues to haunt him for the next few weeks.
Whether that be the fresh smells of flowers permeating in the hallways, a clear sign that either Samira Mohan or her trail of flowers had been there to bless the rooms of patients or the staff kitchen table. Or whether he spotted glimpses of her when he arrived early to his night shift to see her passing out flowers to both staff and patients.
Or in some rare instances, where her face would light up at the sight of him and she would steal a few moments of his time to ask about his day.
And did knowing she might be there at work mean that he sometimes got there a full hour early just in the hopes he might cross her path? Yes.
Even Robby commented on it, asking what was putting such a pep in Jack’s step that he was here early, and Jack quickly scrambled an answer together about wanting more oversight for handover. Even as Dana watched this interaction with barely concealed glee on her face.
Especially because she was the one to actively point out every new beautiful bunch of flowers that arrived for the staff to Jack, even if Robby grumbled about ‘distractions’ every time a congregation of his staff would appear to squeal over the delicate arrangements that brought life to the stale staff room. Especially because Dana was delighted to point out the meanings of all these flower bunches, including that calla lilies meant new beginnings ‘if he so wanted to know’.
He had known, because he’d gone and bought a book on floristry called The Complete Language of Flowers.
God he really was in trouble.
—-
It finally reached a head one day when Jack made his way through the ED, hustling past a persistent Dana who tried to flag him down. Not looking forward to being accosted about his flower girl again, he shouldered his way into the staff room only to pull up short.
Because she was here.
Samira whirled around at the sound of the door opening, and a smile split across her face at seeing him highlighted by a bright yellow headband. “Jack!”
He raised a hand unconsciously to rest against his chest, his heart stuttering a little merely at the sight of her, “Hey.”
He noticed she was seemingly halfway through her activity, with single stems poking out of the handles of around half the lockers, her hands stilled at the handle of the one she was standing eye level with, and his head tilted in curiosity, “What’re you up to?”
“Oh um,” She turned back to her task at hand, “I wanted to make sure the staff got a little something to take home, you all work so hard it feels like the least I could do. An order was cancelled on me so I didn’t want these babies to go to waste.”
“You’re getting rather good at this, you know?” He murmured as he approached her.
“Good at what?” She glanced at him as she continued to work.
“Increasing the hospital’s capacity for joy. You would’ve made a great doctor, you know.”
She ducked her head to hide her rosy cheeks, “I highly doubt that.”
He noticed she was approaching his locker and slowly moved to stand next to her, “So do these ones have meaning too?”
She glanced at him, her face contorted in confusion until he elaborated, “Calla lilies mean ‘new beginnings’, right? Like the one you gave me.”
She seemed thrilled that he’d noticed, “Oh so you’re more than just a pretty face?”
A pleased grin grew on his face as he leaned onto the locker with his arms crossed, staring at her intently, “You think I’m pretty?”
“Hmm,” She bit her lip, turning her attention to the locker next to his, “Pretty nosey.”
He snorted at her sass, and watched her read his name on the next locker. She hid her grin as she glanced down into her basket, deliberating on which type of flower to select. He watched intently as she pulled out a pink rose and handed it to him.
He let his fingers brush against hers again as he took the prized possession from her hand, “A pink rose? What does that mean?”
She merely returned his question with a serene smile, “You’ll just have to find out for yourself.”
The two of them stood looking at each other for a moment, until the door of the staff room slammed open to reveal an irate Robby storming into the room.
“Robby, what’s-” Jack moved slightly to approach his friend, but Robby shrugged him off.
“Bad day, brother, bad day. Gloria has been on my ass about budgets and then we lost a twelve-year old boy. Drowned.” Robby bit out as he approached his own locker.
A cruel laugh escaped Robby as he stood in front of his own locker, “And to top it all off, I’m sick of these fucking flowers! This is a fucking ED not a funeral parlour, for fuck’s sake!” And before Jack could stop him, Robby reached up to grab the pink carnation weaved into his lock, crushing it in his grasp and turned to throw it at the wall of lockers.
“Robby!” Jack snapped.
The room was silent as Robby’s hard breathing echoed in the empty space, and Jack’s chest felt like it was going to cave into itself. It was only in that aftermath of Jack’s voice breaking into Robby’s tirade that Robby realised he and Jack weren’t alone.
Robby’s furious gaze turned to where Samira was huddled just behind Jack, his eyes connecting the dots of the basket of flowers she had cradled at her elbow, the volunteer badge pinned to her chest, and the devastation on her face as she looked down at the crumpled carnation he’d discarded.
Robby sighed, wiping a tired hand down his face, as if this day could get any worse. Without saying a word, he yanked his locker open, grabbing his backpack and helmet, before storming out of the room.
The door slammed, and two inhabitants left standing were silent for a moment in the wake of Cyclone Robinavitch. Jack blew out a disappointed breath, before turning to face Samira.
She was still looking down at the crushed carnation, her eyes growing misty as she bit her lip. Jack took a step towards her, his hand raised to touch her arm and she flinched away from him.
“Samira, I’m so sorry-” He pleaded.
“It’s fine, Jack,” She whispered, avoiding his eye contact, “I’m fine, I-I think I will just go.”
“No, please-” Jack pleaded to her as she solemnly moved towards the door, exiting it quietly.
He quickly moved to follow her, “Don’t go Samira-”
She was quicker, shoulders raised and head down as she moved swiftly past the nurses she’d grown friendly with in the past month or so, their concerned faces watching her leave as she tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes.
Jack watched her leave, his chest heaving. Robby was such a dick sometimes, and Samira had just become the most recent collateral in Cyclone Robby’s path.
Dana met his eye across the room, having just watched an irate Robby storm out followed by a distressed Samira, and her shoulders dropped in sympathy.
Jack merely turned away from the gawking eyes, the heels of his palms coming to press into his eye sockets in disappointment. Just when he felt like he was starting to make progress, like he was starting to open up to this wonderful thing that had walked into his life one night, it all seemed to slip away just as quickly.
—-
And just as she had so easily floated into his life, she floated out of it.
The hospital seemed colder without her weekly visits to drop off flowers to various parts of the building, the little joys her bouquets brought now leaving cold holes in their absence.
Jack couldn’t even find the words to talk about it with Robby without losing his shit. Why did Robby feel like just because he wasn’t in control, that he had to take it out on everyone else and bring them down with him? What did it matter that Samira had entered a space of desperation and death and brought a little bit of joy?
So Jack avoided him, no longer the Doctor Abbot who rocked up to work early anymore, he barely felt like rocking up to work at all. And people began to notice.
Dana placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder one night when his head dropped tiredly into his hands. Shen placed a cup of cold brew at his desk without saying anything. Ellis knew not to poke the bear and quietly refrained from her usual dry sarcasm at the sight of his hunched shoulders looking tiredly up at the board.
It was nearing handover time one night shift and Ellis, Shen and Dana stood at the hub watching a silent Abbot stand looking at a chart, his shoulders tense and his brow furrowed.
“I hate to see him like this. Just when the man was smiling again.” Shen grumbled, swirling his drink around.
Ellis huffed, “Amen, the man’s lost his sparkle.”
“Fucking Robby man, I love the bloke but he really does suck the joy out of this place sometimes.” Dana muttered under her breath as she logged into her computer.
Ellis propped her head on her hands, “Do we know if he’s spoken to her?”
Dana shrugged, “I don’t think so, seems like he’s blaming himself for the debacle. Don’t know how you’d find her anyway.”
A snort from behind them broke their sullenness, and then all turned to see Javadi sitting at one of the desks. She realised she had audibly reacted and ducked her head out of sight.
“No no,” Ellis stood up tall, crossing her arms as she looked down at the med student, “If you got something to say, say it.”
Javadi sighed, before swivelling to face the tribunal, “Do any of you use Instagram at all?”
“I mean, I scroll through reels before I go to sleep most nights?” Shen shrugged.
Javadi rolled her eyes, “You guys are all dinosaurs,” She murmured to herself and she whipped out her phone, and after a few moments of typing she turned her screen to face them, “She’s literally one of the top florists in the city. Look, her shop window is insta famous, it took me all of two seconds to find her.”
Dana snatched her phone, scrolling through the In Bloom business page, before glancing up at Abbot’s still tense frame.
“So who’s gonna tell him where to find his girl?”
When Jack opened his locker an hour after his shift should’ve ended, a piece of paper slid out onto the floor. He groaned as he reached down and picked it up, only to freeze as he flipped it over and read:
In Bloom by Samira Mohan
502 E Ohio Street
Go get her tiger x
—-
He’s still in his scrubs when he finds himself standing across the road, looking over at the address on the note in his hands. He really should’ve changed before a conversation like this, but he didn’t think his nervous system could’ve waited any longer. The shop window is a beautiful floral art display of a broken chandelier overrun with an outpouring of various flowers and plants, and he is a little in awe of the skill it must’ve taken to assemble it. But also of the woman currently tending to it.
He feels frozen as he watches her at work, trimming various stems and spraying a few plants with water as she moves around the window. His hands start clamming up and he shoves the note into his pocket and wipes his hands on his pant leg, before slowly making his way across the street.
Jack approaches the door, pushing it gently and he hears a bell ring over his head, and as he enters all he can smell is her. That sickly sweet aroma of various flowers, with that uniquely Samira scent of vanilla. He wants to bottle it up and keep it with him forever.
“I’ll be with you in a moment!” Jack hears her melodic voice shout out.
He clears his throat a little, wiping his hands again against his legs as he approached the counter, trying not to shift too much onto his bad leg with the adrenaline running through his body. It felt like a strange role reversal; she’d come into his workplace and flipped his world upside down, and now he was in hers. Hopefully not to flip her world around.
Jack heard the scuffing of her shoes before he saw her, and he turned his head to see her emerge from the back in her green apron, a loose burnt orange maxi dress underneath it with her curls pulled up out of her face by her signature claw clip. She had yet to see him behind the large vase she was carrying, but as she swivelled to rest it on the counter between them, she froze.
He ran a nervous hand across the back of his neck, “Hey.”
She gently placed the vase down, wiping her hands against her apron, “Hi,”
The two stood in silence for a moment until Jack couldn’t handle it anymore, and blurted out, “Samira, you have to come back.”
She sighed, her gaze dropping down to her hands on the counter, “Jack-”
“No,” Jack took a step forward to rest against the counter, “Robby was dick to speak to you like that, you didn’t deserve it.”
Samira shrugged, avoiding his eyes as she fiddled with some baby’s breath stems on the counter, “Maybe, but he also had a point. I had no right to just take over the hospital like that.”
“Samira,” He pleaded with her, “You’re wrong.”
She bit her lip, and Jack let out an incredulous laugh before continuing, “I’m serious, I can’t remember the last time I saw PTMC that lively. The patients, the staff, visitors, heck even Gloria made a comment about patient experience scores having risen in the last month!”
Samira scoffed a little, “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It meant everything to me.” He blurted out, and her eyes snapped up to meet her own.
He sighed, his head tilting as he watched her, “Samira, I’ve spent the past five years since my wife died going to that decrepit place they call a hospital, day in and day out just trying to find a reason to keep going. To find the good in life again, to find a reason to keep going. And it wasn’t until you showed up with your flowers and your enthusiasm for joy that I realised that people can be so very good, you reminded me of that. You made that place less cold and scary for so many people.”
Samira fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, refusing to meet his eye, “That’s very kind of you to say, but honestly Doctor Robby gave me the wake up call I needed, I was being ridiculous. I mean,” She chuckled to herself coldly, a small tear sneaking down her cheek as she wiped it away subtly, “Who was I kidding? I can’t just keep showing up to places I’m not welcomed to, or giving away more flowers than I can afford-”
“What?” Jack blurted out in confusion.
Samira closed her eyes in mortification, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“What do you mean, ‘afford’?” Jack pressed her.
She bit her lip before sighing in defeat, “I did my best to repurpose as many orders as I could and save any flowers from the end of the day, but ultimately this shop isn’t a charity. I had to dig into my own savings, but it was worth it to me to see all their little faces light up.”
Her gaze dropped again, “It doesn’t matter anymore, I can’t go back there. Not with the way he acted about-” She started to trail off and Jack’s chest felt like it was constricting.
“I’ll pay for it.” He murmured.
Her head snapped up in disbelief, “What?”
Jack cleared his throat, “I’ll pay for the flowers, Samira. I've been an attending physician for years now, I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”
She huffed in disbelief, “Surely you can’t be-”
“Oh I’m serious,” He locked her eyes with his own, “It’s going to be, what, $100-$200 a week on flowers? I’ll pay for it, gladly.”
“Jack, you're being ridiculous.” She levelled him with an exasperated look.
“I am serious. I know you don’t believe me right now, and I don’t expect you to. But I’m doing this, I’ll be back Thursday afternoon before my shift starts. I saw the change you made in just a few short weeks, and I’m not going to let that place slip back into the cold, sterile place it used to be. There needs to be a capacity for joy in that building.”
She didn’t answer him, and he could feel the panic rising in his chest. The thought of Robby having killed her joy, just when she was finding her own way to give to those who needed it.
Acting on a surge of courage, he leant over with his two hands to grab one of her own, almost pleading with her as he looked up at her uncertain face, “And I can’t let you lose your capacity for joy either, Samira.”
—--
As promised, he pushed through the door of her shop the following Thursday afternoon, tilting his sunglasses onto the top of his head as the bell rang above him. He watched as Samira’s eyes rose from where she was helping a father and his daughter wrap a bouquet to meet his own, and she tried to mask her pleased smile as she focused on the two people in front of her.
He wandered the shop as he waited for her to become free, taking in a deep breath of the fresh protea buds that sat in a bucket at his eye level as he stole a glance at the woman who’d been occupying too much of his mind recently. She was dressed in a brilliant cobalt blue sheath dress and her signature apron to cover it, and he hid his smile to see her usually flowing hair fashioned into two low space buns. He ducked his head to avoid being caught admiring her as he perused the wall of various flowers, until after some time he felt her warm presence come to stand beside him.
“Jack you don’t need to do this-”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am simply here on personal business Ms Mohan. What would you suggest for someone looking to hand out roughly fifty-odd stems and let’s make it two bouquets to get us started?”
She sighed, “Be serious-”
He swivelled to face her, stooping a little so his eyes met her own, “I’ve never been more serious, Samira.”
A small frown creased her brow as she tried to stand her ground, but Jack was a very stubborn man. Eventually she sighed, before turning on her heel, “Fine, you’re being ridiculous, but fine. We’ve just had a whole bunch of yellow and pink gerbera’s come in, and luckily for you, I managed to prepare most of them just in case you were actually serious about this ridiculous idea. And you’ll need a basket!”
Jack’s face transformed with a grin as he followed her, taking delight in seeing her enthusiasm of explaining how to pot the bouquet once he got to the hospital.
—-
Dana’s jaw dropped open at the vision of one Jack Abbot whistling his way through her ED carrying a huge basket of yellow and pink flowers in one hand and two large bouquets in the other, his sunglasses riding low on his nose as he sauntered up to her desk.
“What in the world-”
“Delivery for you, the love of my work life.” He hoisted the large basket onto her counter, before shuffling one of the bouquets into his now free hand as he carefully passed it into her arms, before lifting his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head.
“How did you-” Before she could even finish her sentence, Jack had whipped out his phone and taken a photo of the shell-shocked charge nurse with her arms laden with sunflowers, giving her a thumbs up after he slipped his phone back into his pocket.
She stood mutely watching him pick up the basket again and continue his trek across the ED, his whistle returning before he yelled over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in an hour to start rounds!”
Dana was stumped in shock, before turning to see Princess and Perla also frozen in disbelief, “Did I just hallucinate that, or was Jack Abbot whistling?”
—---
Another Thursday came upon them quickly, and Jack shook off the rain jacket that protected his clean scrubs from the downpour outside as he slipped into the entrance of Samira’s shop.
“Good afternoon!” He sang out as he shed his jacket and hung it up by the doorway, balancing the tray of drinks in his hands.
Samira poked her head up from underneath the counter, her hair adorned with a silk scarf, “You’re back.”
Jack chuckled, “As I said I would be.” He moved forward to meet her at the counter and placed the tray with two cups on it between them, “For my favourite florist.”
She gently took the cup from him with a sceptical look, “I’m probably the only florist you know.”
He shrugged, “Semantics.”
She took a hesitant sip, and then tried to hide her delight at tasting real brewed chai leaves, not the powdered stuff most shops stocked, “This is amazing,” Samira blinked as if processing, “Thank you.”
Jack tried to hide how pleased he was, “You’re welcome.”
Samira placed the cup down, “So what will it be today on your ridiculous expedition?”
“Well, thank you for pre-ordering those yellow roses for the single stems, the yellow gerberas were by far the most popular last week. For the bouquets,” He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the small slip of paper he had, “Do you have any white tulips and peonies?”
She paused for a moment, registering that Jack had chosen those two types of flowers specifically.
The flowers of forgiveness and healing.
“Um,” Samira stuttered, trying not to show how touched she was. The man was literally speaking her language, “Yeah, I think we’ve got some peonies in the back. Let me-” She trailed as she gestured vaguely towards the cool room and scampered off.
Jack watched her go, taking a sip of his own coffee cup as he tried not to preen from throwing her off-kilter.
—---
The door to the staff room flew open as Robby pushed it with his shoulder, only to lift his gaze to the sight of one Jack Abbot fluffing a peony with as much concentration as he would mid-surgery in the ED.
“What the hell is this?” Robby blurted out.
Jack ignored his indignation, continuing his work, “Just trying to brighten up the place, you should try it sometime.”
Robby rolled his eyes as he moved further into the room, coming to stand with his arms crossed next to him as he dryly muttered, “Didn’t realise you’d also become a florist, Jack. What can’t you do?”
Jack didn’t respond to his goading, brushing off some loose pollen on his hands and turned seriously to face him, “And I didn’t take you for a bully, Michael.”
Jack leaned down to pick up his stethoscope and wrapped it around his neck, “She didn’t deserve your nonsense, and if she ever decides to grace these halls again, I’m expecting you to give her a sincere apology for your shitty behaviour.”
Without another word, Jack pushed past him to head to the main floor, leaving a shocked Robby in his wake.
—--
Jack started to think that he would give anything just to spend time with Samira.
Which is how he found himself wearing one of her aprons, standing next to her behind her counter helping her cut a collection of roses for a wedding happening that weekend. He’d come into the shop to see her frenzied form bustling around the shop, ranting about a bridezilla and a rush order, her usually tamed curls frizzy with stress. After he’d finally gotten her to slow down and explain what was wrong, he quickly removed his jacket and asked her what he could do to help.
“Like this?” Jack lifted the rose stem with the thorns now removed, and he had to hold his breath as she leant into his space to inspect his work.
“You’re a natural Jack.” She beamed up at him as she worked through arranging the cut stems into transportable arrangements to deliver to the wedding.
He preened a little at her approval, before clearing his throat, “So how come a woman like you is holed up in her shop late on a Thursday?”
She frowned, looking down at the flowers they were holding as if it were obvious, “I would think the flowers we’re currently hustling to arrange would make that obvious?”
“I mean on a non-bridezilla induced frantic rush evening,” Jack tapped her arm insistently with the stem of the rose he was holding, “You seem to work late a lot. You’re young, smart, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be out there living it up with friends instead, or being swept off your feet by a date?”
Samira rolled her eyes, trying to hide the flush appearing at his flirting, “Don’t tell me you’re going to get on my ass too.”
He raised an eyebrow up at her and she scoffed but continued, “My friend Cassie keeps saying I can’t just live to work, that I need to have more in my life than just flowers.”
He shrugged his shoulders, “She’s not wrong.”
Samira gave him an exasperated look, “Says the night shift doctor who has nothing better to do before his shift than hang out with me at my job!”
He hid his small grin as he continued to cut thorns off the stems and pass them to her, “Touche.”
“I could ask the same about you, Jack Abbot. What does a night shift doctor do in his free time?”
“Sleep. Eat. Engage in thrill-seeking behaviour that my therapist adamantly disagrees with. Read medical journals that need peer-reviewing.”
She scoffed, “Nerd.”
“Hey,” He poked her with the stem, “I’ll have you know that it’s Doctor Nerd.”
Samira rolls her eyes, “So you’re as much of a workaholic as I am. Come on, surely someone like you has women falling over themselves to go on dates with you?” She murmured as she glanced at him sideways.
He peered down at her, his eyes taking in the arrant curls that had escaped her claw clip hanging around the frames of her glasses. It was then he realised she had no idea the hold she had over him, the way he thought he’d do absolutely anything to make her happy. Even if she deserved so much better than anything he had to offer.
“No women in my life, no. I mean,” He shrugged, “At least none that are falling at my feet. Only a woman who has me doing hard labour on my day off.”
Samira snorted at his response and bumped his shoulder with her own, and seemed to relax at his response, “Good.”
He raised an eyebrow at her admission, and she seemed to realise who she was speaking to, “I mean, no not good. I don’t mean that ‘good’ that no other women want you, because I’m sure they do! Lots of women, because look at you.”
She closed her eyes in mortification as he watched on in amusement, “Oh god, I also didn’t mean ‘good’ that you’re here wasting your free time helping me, because-” She opened her eyes to see him on the verge of laughter and rolled her eyes at him, shoving his shoulder, “Oh you shut up and keep cutting, those thorns aren’t going to chop themselves off you know!”
Jack merely chuckled in response, “Yes ma’am.”
—--
Samira had her back to him as he swanned into her shop, and jumped when she turned to see him brandishing a matcha with her name on it.
“Jack! You scared me.” She rested a hand on her chest.
“Well hello to you too.” He pushed the iced matcha into her hands as she popped her hip to rest against the counter.
“You can’t keep bringing me drinks like this, I must owe you at least eight by now.” She grumbled.
Jack scoffed, “Please, consider it a small price to pay for helping me make an entire paediatric ward’s week. Speaking of, I’m not technically working today, so I think you should come with me.”
She took a small sip of her drink as she wearily watched him, “Jack, I can’t-”
“-Can’t say no to the thought of all those little kiddies waiting to receive the bright orange marigolds I had you specially order?” He pretended to be offended, “You wouldn’t make a crippled veteran doctor neglect those poor sickly kids would you?”
She tried to ignore the small tug in her heart, knowing he’d suggested marigolds because of their meaning of joy and resilience, but also because he’d discovered they were her favourite flower. He also knew how to guilt trip her, incredibly easily.
Samira scoffed, “Stop pulling the veteran card here, you’re still not getting a discount nor are you getting any sympathy from me. Also I don’t want you to waste your precious days off spending it back at the hospital.”
Jack shrugged his shoulders, “I want to do it. And I’ll drop the veteran pity party if you come with me. You close in 15 minutes, and I’m going to make sure you finish up on time today, because I also know for a fact you don’t have any other plans.”
Samira sighed, looking at him with exasperation. He knew her too well, she truly didn’t have plans this evening, and she’d missed the feeling she got from seeing the looks on those patient’s faces at the bundles of flowers in her arms.
“You’re getting a little too good at getting me to do what you want, Doctor Abbot.” Samira grumbled.
Jack gave her a cheeky smirk, “Only because you let me.”
—-
The two of them entered through the ED again, Jack having slung Samira’s bag onto his shoulder as he carried the two large bouquets, letting her handle the basket of single stems to take upstairs. The two of them drew eyes as they made their way to the desk, and Lena lifted her head to see Jack smiling down at her.
“Doctor Abbot, what the hell are you doing in the ED on your day off?”
“Lovely Lena, it’s good to see you too.” He lifted one of the bouquets forward and handed it to her, “Delivering a package for the staff room.”
“Boss man,” Jack turned to see Shen shirking his bloody gown into a hazard bin at the entrance of room 2, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“That’s what I asked.” Lena grumbled.
“Shen,” Jack reached back to where Samira had hung back to observe the bantering coworkers, “This is Samira. Samira, this is the biggest pain-in-my-ass.”
Shen’s eyes lit up as Jack ushered forward a mortified Samira who clutched at the basket of marigolds, and he slipped the gloves he had on off before holding out a hand, “As I live and breathe, our hospital’s flower girl. It’s nice to finally meet you for real, I was getting sick of this one blabbing on about ‘Samira this’ and ‘Samira that’ without meeting the woman herself.”
Samira’s face lights up with delightful mischief and she glances up at Jack, who was avidly avoiding her eye contact, “Is that so?”
Jack cleared his throat, gently placing a hand behind Samira’s back and starting to usher her towards the elevators, “Yes well, we’re very busy so we’re going to make moves upstairs. Hope it stays quiet for you, Shen.”
Shen’s jaw drops at the throw away remark, “Oh you bastard, I hope you rot in hell!”
Samira turned over her shoulder to give him a wave before Jack could tug her further away, “It was lovely to meet you!”
—-
It didn’t take long for the ward to realise they had visitors, the nurses' faces lighting up as they approached, and Jack took immense delight in carrying around the large basket of flowers for Samira as they slowly worked their way through the rooms in the paediatric oncology ward. Jack hadn’t spent too much time up here besides the few weeks where he’d filled in for Samira in her absence, so he didn’t expect much of a fanfare for his arrival. But seeing the kids react to her arrival was akin to a celebrity arriving in their room.
“Miss Samira, I missed you!” They had just entered the room when a young girl no older than five scrambled out from under the covers to put her hands on the rail of the bed upon seeing who had arrived.
Jack watched in awe as Samira’s entire face lit up, and she moved forward to give the young girl a warm hug. His chest started to feel light at seeing the child tell her animatedly what she’d missed, and he silently retrieved one of the stems in the basket before brushing it against Samira’s arm. She looked back at him gratefully and grabbed it from him, and he stood back a little to watch the two interact.
The next few rooms follow on much the same, kids of all ages recognising Samira immediately. Even though Jack had been passing through these rooms for a few weeks himself, he didn’t mind the lack of acknowledgement of his presence in the replacement of the woman whose impression clearly gave them a reprieve from their sterile hospital existence.
These kids didn’t seem to be the only ones enraptured with their visitors, as Jack had already clocked a few of his curious coworkers who had no business being on the paediatric oncology ward wandering aimlessly and slowing down as they caught a glimpse at the surly ED doctor and his beautiful new friend. They soon scurried on their way at the pointed glance from Jack himself, and they sent him a sheepish wave and exited swiftly before he could give them words.
He stood back in one room with his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, content to watch Samira perched on the end of the bed of an older teenager, sitting up with her legs cross covered in a blanket. Samira was in the midst of comparing her own knitted cardigan with the patient’s knitted beanie, who was excitedly telling Samira about how her older sister who was huddled up next to her on the bed had made it for her.
He had zoned out for a second but caught onto the last part of their whispered conversation, “-did you come with Doctor Jack?”
Samira glanced over to where Jack stood, murmuring, “I did, is there something wrong with him?”
The teenager in the bed seemed to get shy as she exchanged a conspiratorial look with her sister next to her, before leaning in to Samira, “He’s very handsome.”
Jack couldn’t help the blush working its way up his neck at the young girl’s words, and he watched a knowing smile come across Samira’s face as she glanced up at where he stood.
Without breaking eye contact with Jack, she whispered back, “He is very handsome, but don’t tell him I said that. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
The two girls on the bed dissolved into giggles and both Samira and Jack found themselves grinning at each other like fools. Samira only broke eye contact when the older sister whispered something to her and Samira leaned forward to hear her quiet voice.
Jack could feel the warmth in his chest spread with every interaction he was privy to, so much so he didn’t notice the father of the two girls slowly enter the room from the hallway and sidle up to stand beside Jack.
“You know, my daughter couldn’t stop talking about the lovely woman who brought her flowers a few weeks ago, I’m glad I got to meet her. I haven’t seen Lyla smile like this in weeks.” His voice broke through Jack’s musings.
Jack turned a little to acknowledge the man, smiling proudly at the praise for Samira, “Samira has a habit of spreading joy wherever she goes.”
The other man merely took in Jack’s pride and his eyes flitted down to where Jack’s hands were crossed, “You’re a very lucky man, doctor. Your wife is lovely.”
Jack froze.
It wasn’t the man’s fault; he’d put Jack’s clear adoration of the beautiful woman in the hospital room and Jack wearing a wedding band together and made the obvious assumption. But Jack couldn’t help but wait for the usual immediate cool weight of the grief coming back into his heart about the death of his wife.
But it didn’t seize him as it usually did when someone mentioned Gen, the way it would usually grip him and send him into a small depressive spiral. And he knew it had to do with the woman in front of them, and the way she had him finding more peace in life than he’d had in years of therapy.
Jack recognised the mix of emotions coursing through his body in that moment, and to save an unnecessary explanation to this stranger he merely responded, “I’m a lucky man.”
—-
But not every visit was full of giggles.
They’d reached the end of the hallway, a quiet beeping greeting them as they entered the darkened room. Jack felt her hand slowly curl around his bicep upon her realising who was in the room, and Jack looked down to see Samira’s face become stricken with sadness.
Without saying anything, Jack slid his own hand to cover her own, and she lifted her own gaze to meet his inquisitive look. He gave her hand a squeeze as if to say you’re not alone, I’m here and she nodded at him slowly before slowly grabbing a flower from the nearly empty basket and moving forward towards the bed.
The boy lying down on the elevated hospital bed was hooked up to many machines, the room echoing with the ominous beeping. He couldn’t be any older than twelve, and his breath, despite being hooked up to an oxygen tube, seemed to require a lot of effort from such a little body.
As Samira slowly approached the boy, he rolled his head to see who it was and his eyes lit up as much as they could in his drug-induced state, “You came back.”
Samira bit her lip as she claimed the chair next to his bed, “I came back Simon.”
The boy gave her a dopey smile, and Samira gently placed the flower onto Simon’s lap, and clasped his hand gently between her own.
“It’s so pretty.” He whispered.
“I thought you might like this one,” She gently stroked the back of his hand, “Do you want to know where it’s from?”
He slowly nodded, and she quietly commenced her story of the farm she’d sourced it from. Jack watched her swallow her sadness to get the words out, her hands shaking slightly as she spoke to the young boy with as much composure as she could. Jack could see by one glance that the boy was terminal and he was also sure that Samira knew that too by the hunch of her shoulder, and Jack’s hands ached to reach out and comfort her.
After some time, her melodic voice seemed to lull the boy as his eyelids drooped, and Jack heard her start to choke on her words as she gazed upon the boy falling asleep. Jack pushed off the wall he was leaning on and slowly approached the quiet bed.
Samira’s head was propped up in one hand, and the other was stroking calming patterns on the boy’s hand, and upon closer inspection Jack could see Samira’s cheeks glistening with silent tears streaming down to drop on the bedspread beneath her.
He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and she jumped slightly at the contact, her wet eyes turning to look at him with a desperate grief clearly consuming her. Without a word, he gently held a hand out for her to take, and she seemed to nod at his invitation to leave. She gathered the young boy’s hand in her own and placed a gentle kiss onto the back of it, before letting Jack’s hands guide her to stand out of the chair and slowly usher her into the hallway.
As Jack quietly closed the door behind them, he turned to see Samira hugging her own body, her body shaking with the tears streaming down her face.
“Oh honey,” He whispered, his head tilting with compassion, and without another word he reached out and gathered her in his arms, tucking her face into his chest.
He could feel the sobs break out in earnest at the mere contact with his body as her hands clutched at his chest, and the two of them stood there in the dark hallway for some time. Jack was content to hold the woman who’d become the most important person in his life, giving her space to work through her heartache for the little boy who would most likely not see another month, his hands gently rubbing soothing circles on her back as her tears soaked his shirt.
—-
Jack wouldn’t take any of her insistence that she could get the bus home, and ushered her to where he’d parked his car in the staff parking, tucking her carefully into the passenger seat before getting directions to her flat.
It was a quiet but comfortable silence in the car, the two of them lost in thought at the rollercoaster of emotions the evening had entailed. He stole some small glances at her when they stopped at a red light, to see her solemnly pressing the back of her hand against her mouth as she looked out the window.
Soon enough, the two of them arrived at her flat and he pulled up into the waiting zone before turning the car off. He leaned back in his seat before turning to face her, only to find her looking right back at him with her head leaning back tiredly against the head rest.
“Thank you for bringing me tonight.” She whispered.
He gave her a small, sad smile in return, “You’re always welcome, Samira.”
Her head rolled back to look straight ahead, her eyes closing with a tiredness he hadn’t seen in her before. He frowned a little, before tentatively reaching out a hand and placing it on her forearm, his thumb rubbing the material of her cardigan smoothly.
“You ok?”
She nodded, her chin trembling slightly, “That was harder than I thought. They are too young to be suffering like this.”
He nodded in agreement, not being able to find any words to comfort her, “I know.”
She rolled her head to look at him again, her eyes opening and he could see the sheen in her dark eyes, her other hand coming to rest on top of his own, “It broke me seeing the parents grieving their own children whilst they’re still alive,” She sniffled, “It’s not fair, that’s not grief anyone should have to feel.”
His thumb continued to caress her arm as he tried to find the words to say, “When my wife was dying she used to say that grief in its own way is a gift, it’s a reminder of all the unexpressed love we have for another human being. I didn’t get it at the time, because to me in the dark hole I was in, all I could think about was how could grief be anything but torture? But after some time, and many sessions of therapy after she passed, I realised she was right. Grief and love work hand in hand, because grief only exists because love lived there first. It doesn’t fix anything, but maybe their love in a way will keep their children’s memory alive.”
Samira was quiet in response, and he merely looked back at her as tears started to slip down her cheeks. The two sat silently for a while, content to seek comfort from the emotionally taxing day with each other, their hands interwoven on the arm rest.
After some time, Jack sighed and lifted a tired hand to wipe down his face, “Come on, let's get you to bed. It’s been a big day.”
He slipped out of the car, grabbing her basket from the back seat and coming around to intercept her opening her car door, swinging it open to allow her space to get out. She gave him a grateful smile as she wrapped her cardigan around herself tightly, before the two of them walked towards the building’s front door.
They pulled up to stop just at the entrance, and he turned to see her gazing up at him with a sad but appreciative look on her face. He sighed at the defeated posture of her body, placing the basket on the ground before opening up his arms, “Come here.”
Without hesitation she wove her arms around his torso and tucked her head into his neck and breathed sigh out as her body relaxed into his. He wrapped his own arms around her smaller frame, one of his hands cradling the back of her head and the other rubbing comforting circles on her back. The two stood there in silence, swaying slightly as he felt her relax further into his body, her head tilting against his own as she took a deep, unsteady breath with her forehead pressed into his skin.
He waited for her to pull back, feeling her hands start to unwind from around him, and he watched her carefully as she pulled back to meet his own gaze.
Her eyes searched for his own, a small sad but grateful smile coming over her face before he felt one of her hands come to rest against his cheek, her thumb rubbing tenderly over his skin.
“You’re a good man, Jack Abbot.” And before he could think to respond, she drew up onto her toes and placed a delicate kiss onto his cheek.
A sharp intake of air went through his nostrils as his lungs filled, the feeling of her lips against his skin momentarily making his body freeze in response. She gently moved away, her gaze still piercing into his own as her hand slipped down his chest.
His jaw hung open slightly as he watched her lean down to pick up the basket at their feet, and he couldn’t take his eyes from her as she entered the code for the building’s security system.
“Goodnight, Samira.” He croaked out after her retreating form, and she turned to give him a small wave as she slipped through the open door.
He continued to watch her until she disappeared from view, a hand coming up to unconsciously rub against his beating chest. All he can think right now is that this woman might be the death of him, if one small kiss on his cheek has his heart racing like he’d run a marathon.
Jack moved in a daze as he got in the car and started to drive, his mind racing a million miles a minute. Thinking about the way she looked when he’d met her in the ED, the vision of her loose curls, her bright smile and her lilac cardigan having haunted his dreams since.
About the sound of her laugh when he’d made a joke in her shop.
About the way she cared for others so explicitly and incessantly, more than anyone he’d ever known.
About the way the man this evening had confused her to be his wife.
Jack sighed, clutching at the steering wheel as he sat at a red light, his forehead coming down to rest against the steering wheel. The evening had brought up many mixed feelings, especially the parallel thoughts of feeling guilty for forgetting about his deceased wife and instead being plagued with elation spending time with Samira. He knew Gen was probably out there right now screaming at him to let himself be happy and to not let the pretty girl slip away, and he chuckled to himself at the thought of Gen throwing her shoe at his head for being so dumb. Because she’d told him so herself, that if he didn’t let himself love again, she would haunt him for the rest of his days. As if she hadn’t haunted him enough already, but he knows if she was out there somewhere, maybe she had led Samira to him somehow.
Samira, who definitely deserved someone a little less broken and grief-stricken than himself. Samira, who loved defiantly and lit up every room she entered, who didn’t seem to realise she held his entire heart in her hands every time she even glanced at him. Samira, who barely allowed herself to be happy but would sacrifice anything to help everyone around her without a care for herself.
She deserved to be cherished, she deserved to feel supported. She deserved the world honestly, and Jack wondered; could he be the one to give it to her? Because after these past weeks, he didn’t know if he could keep going about his life without her. He’d felt the absolute agony at the absence of her in his life, and what it felt to gain her back, and he wasn’t sure he could survive her slipping away again.
He heard a beep from the car behind him and realised the lights had turned green, and moved forward as he waved off the person behind him.
Soon enough he found himself on his quiet street and pulled into his empty driveway. As these thoughts raced through his head, he stumbled through his front door to enter his dark home, turning on his lights to his living room.
Only to once again be reminded of her. Because most of the surfaces in view were covered in an assortment of flowers in vases and pots.
He sighed, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door, and looked around his house at the jungle of various plants that now inhabited the space. Had he really not noticed the way his entire house had been taken over by her, that every bouquet was an excuse to be around her just a little bit longer?
He moved slowly towards the kitchen, essentially dodging the maze of floral arrangements until he approached the sink and grabbed a clean glass. Without hesitation he filled it up with water and chugged it back, realising how parched he was.
As he placed the glass back down and took a gasping breath, he noticed his wedding band sitting heavily on his ring finger. Without taking his eyes off it, he brought his hand up to look at it, his fingers twirling the thick dark band around his finger.
He in theory knew that if he didn’t wear his band anymore, it didn’t mean he didn’t love his wife any less. She would always have a place in his heart, a grief that would sit in his chest for the rest of his life, yearning for a future they had planned and had not happened. He swallowed heavily as he twisted it, thinking of the day he received it, and the vision of his wife smiling up at him happily on the happiest day of their lives.
But by wearing it, there was a hesitation for letting himself want more. For a future that he’d not realised he might want. Of another woman with dark bronzed skin, dark curls and vanilla perfume. Of visions of her greeting him in his kitchen with a cup of coffee ready after he came home from a long night shift. Of him picking her up from her flower shop to take her on a date night, treating her at her favourite local indian restaurant before going on a sunset stroll through the city. Of waking up in the morning to feeling her curled into his chest, a contentment in him he hadn’t felt in some time cocooning him in their shared space. Of the nervousness of giving her a ring of her own. Of visions of him scooping up a little girl with loose black curls like her mother, squealing into his ear as he peppered her cheek with kisses.
He had to allow himself to want that, because that’s what his wife would’ve wanted for him.
Jack moved slowly through the house, his fingers still twirling the ring on his finger, until he stood in front of his cupboard. He opened the door and carefully reached up to grab the small keepsake box he opened from time to time when he needed to wallow in memories. He carried it to his bed and placed it gently onto the bedspread, lifting the lid and placing it beside the box.
He blew out a shaky breath before gently extracting the ring that had lived on his finger for years, letting himself sit in this feeling of letting go, a small tear escaping down his cheek as he gazed at it. He gently lifted it to his mouth and placed a small kiss to the ring.
It was time.
He reached into the box and found the small velvet box nestled amongst the keepsakes and gently opened it to place his own ring to sit with the matching rings of his late wife. Jack closed the lid and placed the box back in its place, before grabbing the lid and putting it back on.
He felt his body drain of energy as he grasped the box and leant on it with his head bowed. He’d talked about this step with his therapist, the next stage of grief and acceptance, of moving on and finding new purpose in his life again. If you’d told the Jack of last year who’d scoffed at this suggestion in therapy that he’d be here literally closing this chapter of his life, he would’ve probably punched you in the face.
But here he was, because a woman had swanned into his life and flipped it upside down. Because he realised she was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, and he wasn’t going to be foolish enough to let her go again, so he needed to be brave.
Because if Samira could be brave, then so could he.
—--
So he hadn’t slept.
Well barely slept, it was a fitful night of tossing and turning as he tried to figure out what he should do, what he should say. He didn’t know if he could wait another day.
So here he was, pulling at the shirt he’d hastily chucked on before he’d left, knowing the shower he’d hastily taken this morning had done nothing to appease the nerves coursing through him right now. He pushed the heavy door open, hearing the bell ring over his head and he can’t help the small intake of breath as he spots her.
She is in the middle of refilling one of the wall buckets with small bouquets of baby’s breath, wearing a loose lace dress of buttery yellow that matches the thin yellow headband holding back her curls that are loose around her shoulders. She absentmindedly glances up to greet what she assumes to be a customer, before doing a double-take at the view of a clearly frazzled Jack standing in her doorway.
“Jack!” She blurts out in surprise, dropping the remaining of the plants into the bucket as she stands up in surprise, “What- it’s a Friday! What are you doing here?”
He takes out a breath, aware of the papers clutched in his hands as he moved to stand closer to her, “I er, I really wanted to see you.”
She frowned as she looked over his appearance, “Did you need more flowers?”
“No,” Jack chuckled nervously, before looking down at the papers in his hands, “I have something for you.”
She tilted her head in curiosity, and he handed the papers to her, continuing to stammer on, “I know you were hesitant to come back to the hospital, that you were intruding in a space you didn’t feel like you belonged. But I wanted to prove that you were wrong, that it’s not just me that thinks that. That you’re helping people.”
She glanced up at him nervously, before flipping the page open.
Indoor plants in hospital rooms enhanced health outcomes of patients recovering from surgery. Park, Mattson. (2009)
Her jaw dropped open as her eyes scanned the paper, her heart starting to stammer in her chest as her mind raced at the implications of what he’d just given to her.
She spotted the words ‘provides therapeutic benefits by reducing patient stress, anxiety, and fatigue while lower blood pressure and increasing room satisfaction’ and she blinked in slight disbelief, snapping her gaze to see Jack looking right back at her, his face flushed as he looked at her uneasily.
“Jack, this is-” She trailed off and he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.
“I know I know,” He sighed, “It’s a bit much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said about making an impact, so I went hunting through some med journal sites. I knew I’d read something years ago about a study on the impact of plants in hospital rooms, and found this one. There’s been heaps of other articles that have been released since that expanded on this methodology, a lot more research has been done but, I didn’t want to scare you off too much going ‘full nerd’ as you’d call it.”
She merely looked up at him in awe as he stuttered through his justification, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she looked up at the normally extremely composed man in front of her. He struggled to meet her eye as he explained, his hands talking as effusively as his mouth was, and a realisation slowly crept over her.
Just like he’d learnt her language of flowers, he was expressing his thoughts and feelings through his own language.
She also glanced down to watch his hand gestured wildly, and noticed he was not wearing his wedding ring.
Samira didn’t like to be one who speculated or jumped to conclusions about the pieces of information in front of her; Jack who was clearly nervous about something, his ringless left hand, a paper he’d spent some time hunting down to help her feel like her actions were impactful.
Him calling her sweetheart. Him calling her honey.
Her heart stuttered in her chest as she brought the papers to cradle against her chest, looking up to meet his own gaze.
“You did this for me?” She whispered, looking at him incredulously.
Jack sighed, his hands dropping to his side at her words, “Yeah.”
She blinked away tears at the sudden swell of emotions in her chest, and Jack seemed to take it as a sign he’d upset her.
“Oh no sweetheart, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He closed his eyes in frustration, his head bowing in defeat,“Look, I’m not-it’s been a long time since I had to tell someone-”
He trailed off, and she almost felt like laughing at this ridiculous man in front of her. Jack, the ER cowboy doctor who was so brilliant, caring and funny, was nervous to talk to her. Little old Samira in the flower shop.
“Jack.” She spoke his name quietly.
“Yeah?” He whispered back, looking up at her now with a tired expression on his face, as if he’d exhausted himself with his rambling.
She gave him a small, quiet smile before placing a gentle hand in the centre of his chest, feeling his heart beat as wildly as hers was underneath her palm.
Without saying another word, she took a step forward to let her body mould against his own, her chest meeting his chest as she stood slightly on her toes to bring her mouth to meet his.
His eyes stuttered closed at the feeling of her soft lips meeting his own, as he froze for a moment underneath her gentle touch. After a second his body seemed to catch up with what was happening, and one of his hands came up to cup her jaw, and the other snaked around her back to pull her body closer to his.
She let out a little gasp of the surprise feeling of him pulling her waist into him, his mouth meeting her own back with a passionate enthusiasm of a man who was starved. Her hips met his own as the two pressed against each other, all the feelings left unsaid from weeks of dancing around each other pouring out of them as his hand threaded into her hair to pull her closer to him.
After being interlocked for some time, Samira pulled back with a gasp, trying to pull in some oxygen as she breathed deeply against him. Her forehead came to rest gently against his chin as the two stood for a moment to catch their breath, content in feeling him wrapped around her.
“Jack?” She breathed out as she pulled back to look up at his flushed face and swollen lips.
“Mhm?” Jack realised she had said his name, his eyes still closed as he tried to process the feeling of her lips against his. He could feel her hand come up to cup his jaw, her thumbs running tenderly over the stubble on his cheeks, and he told a deep breath out as the nervousness left his body.
“I adore you, Jack Abbot.”
His eyes snapped open, taking in the lovely view of Samira Mohan; cradled against his body, her cheeks and lips flushed pink with desire, her curls tousled from his hands weaving through it, her chest heaving.
He let out an incredulous chuckle, his fingertips coming around to fondly trace the side of her face as they looked at each in disbelief if this was actually happening or not.
“Oh Samira Mohan, I’ve adored you since the very first day I met you.”
She giggled into his mouth as he swept her up and both of them dissolved into uncontrollable laughter as he peppered her face with kisses. Two people who’d met as ships passing in the night finally finding themselves together again.