Love Story on Canal

by Angela Lee

  “Mr. Weathers,” both of her parents repeated in sing song. They were both laughing at her now.

  “You two are impossible,” she huffed jumping from her seat and preparing a plate for her mother before pouring herself another cup of coffee.

  “Pancy dear, I happened to notice that there is a distinct odor coming from the Gladstone your father purchased,” her mother said delicately.

  Pan laid a plate of fresh berries and croissant in front of her mother. Iris tilted her head up, eyes narrowed at her daughter, obviously irritated by the brazen behavior. Pan raised her brows in challenge. The two women continued the silent duel with their eyes as to whether Madam Fontenot would eat or not.

  “Is that where the fishy smell is coming from? Whatever happened?” Dr. Fontenot grumbled through a mouthful of croissant, oblivious to the women’s exchange.

  “Shrimp. I brought cook home some for gumbo,” Pan said popping a hand onto her hip, without breaking eye contact with her mother.

  “In the Gladstone? That bag cost me a small fortune,” her father harrumphed.

  She closed her eyes and sighed with regret, “Sorry, Papa.” Her eyes flew open at the sound of her mother’s victorious snap. Iris gave her daughter a wink and then took a bite of her chocolate croissant. Pan rolled her eyes, huffed, and stomped back to her seat. Her mother chuckled, having won the battle.

  “Should I replace it then?” her father continued, oblivious to entire episode.

  “No, Papa. I’m sure it will air out.” Pan sighed, shook her head and lifted her coffee cup while mumbling, “Mule headed woman. You could have just eaten it in the first place.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Saturday nights in New Orleans were reserved for balls; Sunday mornings for mass. Sunday afternoons were filled with leisurely pursuits, café visits and resting at home. Pan had been spending her Sunday afternoons visiting the St. Vincent Children’s Asylum and delivering messages to prisoner families. She saved her Customs House visits for Thursdays, as that was the day Hicks and Madison had guard duty at least for the next four weeks’ rotation.

  Exhaustion waited on the brink as she balanced a schedule of society events, her duties to her father’s practice, and maintaining her own unofficial practice. No matter how sleep deprived the doctor was beginning to feel, giving up her work at the orphanage, the prison, or even the handful of patients she had collected while delivering messages was not possible.

  These visits had become the most rewarding experiences of the week, allowing her some fulfilment and a sense of achievement. This was the nearest to her own practice that she would ever have, Pan thought. A closet office at an orphanage and renegade house calls behind enemy lines. She shook her head and chuckled to herself.

  The only other recent times she could remember feeling anything akin to satisfaction was when she had been in Fin’s arms, when he had danced with her, when he had kissed her. Those moments had felt perfect but, in a way very different from work. Since their kiss, she had been careful to avoid situations where she would be alone with him and had more than once forced her family to leave an event rather than have to interact with the man.

  Deep in her thoughts, Pan was barely aware that someone had fallen into step beside her. A deep, familiar voice asked, “Where are we headed?”

  She sighed, “Why are you here?” Fin walked alongside her, looking smug.

  A sly smile touched his lips as he responded. “I thought I might escort you and young Tom to your destination. It’s time to reveal your secrets.”

  “What? No. I mean, I am fine, thank you. An escort is…Were you waiting for me?” Pan’s mind was racing, struggling to find a way out of this situation. “How on earth would you know that I would be here?”

  “You forget that twice I have met with you on this block. Once on a Thursday and once on Sunday.” At this point he stopped, halting Pan’s travel. She was acutely aware of his presence surrounding her, wrapping his arm around her back he turned her to look across the street to a row of offices. His other arm reached across her to point to a building on the left with a ground floor window covered in Weathers’ campaign posters. Then pointing to a second story window he offered, “My office is right there. Louisa is not typically a street heavily trafficked by young women of means. So, when I noticed you from my desk walking down this street again last Thursday, I began to wonder if there might be a pattern. I decided to test out my theory. A bit scientific huh, belle?”

  Amusement outweighed her fear of discovery. Pan couldn’t help but chuckle; her earlier irritation at his tenacity easily subsiding. Fin’s smile was broad, his shoulders were thrown back and his chest puffed. The man was thoroughly pleased with his own sleuthing abilities. “Scientific, indeed Mr. Weathers.”

  “Fin,” he corrected.

  “Fin then, you have indeed cracked the mystery. I do have tasks to attend in this area on most Thursdays and Sundays. Tom is usually here to help. Now, we’ll just be getting to them. Good day, Mr. Weathers.” Pan stepped away and silently groaned when his step matched hers.

  “I’ll escort you. What is our first destination?” he said enthusiastically.

  “Surely you have more important tasks today than attending me on personal errands?” Pan asked in exasperation. “A campaign to organize? A business to run? Sunday resting after a night of reckless debauchery?”

  “Reckless debauchery?” A bark of laughter erupted from his handsome throat.

  “You were not at the cotillion. I assumed you had attended the Black and White,” Pan continued her brisk pace and refused to meet his eye.

  The side of his mouth twitched, “You missed me then?” Fin reached forward and removed her weighty satchel from her grip and brought it to his side. “Allow me.”

  Escape would be impossible if he had her medical bag. Sighing in resignation, Pan paused in her stride to reach a hand into a hidden pocket in the side of her day dress and produced a handful of hard candies. She outstretched her hand toward him in offering. Appearing both puzzled and pleased, Fin reached for one but pulled back as she exclaimed, “No! I’m not offering you one!”

  Embarrassed by her outburst, Pan chuckled, “That is, feel free to take one for yourself. However, I am offering you the lot. Go on, take them all. You’ll need them later. You do have pockets, do you not?”

  Fin arched his brow in curiosity. He unwrapped one of the sweets and popped it into his mouth before pocketing the rest.

  A mulatto merchant called, “Bonjour, mademoiselle medicin.” She smiled and approached the wooden grocery cart, overflowing with vibrant orange satsumas. The citrus smell was both bitter and sweet.

  “Did you try the liniment?” Pan asked the grocer.

  “Oui, c’est bon,” the small man answered. He lifted his arm and rotated it from the shoulder. Pan watched the action with a nod.

  “Keep applying it every night,” she said brightly. She scanned his cart with a frown. “Monsieur, do you have any damaged fruit?” The man held up a finger and reached below his cart. Pan popped onto her tip toes and leaned over the orange cart to see what he was reaching for. He slid a crate half filled with bruised oranges. Pan clapped her hands in excitement. “Thank you!”

  With a wink the merchant tossed Tom an orange from the undamaged pile and held one out for the lady as well. Pan thanked him once again before leaning across the cart to kiss the man’s cheek.

  The street vendor then asked Fin if he would like an orange as well. Fin nodded yes and handed the man a handful of coins. The vendor shook his head no and then nodded toward Pan who was talking with Tom as the boy peeled his orange and began eating it right away. “For the beautiful doctor and her young helper, there is never a charge.” Hearing her name, Pan looked up and smiled at both men.

  Fin gave the vendor the coins again, “Take it for mine then.”

  The lady promised the vendor that Tom would bring the container right back. Pan discreetly handed her orange to Tom before motioning for him to tak
e the crate. The boy slid the other orange into his pocket before picking up the damaged fruit.

  Several nuns walked past, greeting Pan by name. Tom ran ahead to the newspaper cart. Rather than grab one the papers on display Tom went directly to the young man selling the paper. The worker went to a stack of papers and reached under the display and pulled out a paper. It looked exactly like all the others, though it had been hidden from view.

  Pan acted nonchalant, aware that Fin was watching. She mentally chastised herself for not stopping Tom from collecting her weekly publication. The news boy greeted her by name as they approached, and she replied in kind. She asked him how business was, and he asked if she had been to see his sister, the wife of another inmate. As she spoke, Tom handed her the paper, which she tucked under arm. Ordinarily, she would have dropped it into her bag out of view, but as Fin held her bag, that was impossible.

  She went to pay for her paper, but Fin dropped a three-cent nickel in the newsboy’s hand first. The young man went white, his eyes shifting back and forth from Fin to Pan. Willing the boy to resume his composure, Pan did her best to silently reassure the young man that Fin would not, as she hoped, turn him in for selling underground publications. Pan smiled brightly, rested a hand on the newsboy’s arm, and wished him a good day. He nodded and nervously wished them a good day in return.

  “I’m intrigued thus far. Tell me where we are headed. How shall we spend our day?” Fin broke the quiet of their walk.

  “We are heading to the orphanage,” she answered, grateful that he had not asked any of the other questions she was certain he was thinking. She mentally worked through her day’s routine in case there were any more upcoming events that the politician should not witness.

  Fin asked, “This is how you know young Tom?”

  She nodded but her attention was elsewhere. A group of gentlemen were standing in front of the tobacconist’s shop half a block away. They were young and well dressed. One or two were smoking and all were chuckling at a fellow who was pantomiming as if he were a woman.

  Pan tilted her head to the side, brunette locks brushing her shoulder as she contemplated his pose. The mime’s legs were turned inward meeting at the knees, his backside jutted out, shoulders and chest bent forward. One hand covered his bum, the other poised over his mouth which was making a surprised and exaggerated O.

  Pan chewed the bottom left side of her lip in contemplation. The actor threw a saucy, effeminate look over his shoulder using the hand that had covered his mouth to wag a finger as he shook his head “No, No, No” at one of the other gents behind him. The targeted man threw up his hands in genuine protest, his face flushed pink, and he sputtered a stream of expletives. All the while the other men around him guffawed.

  She was barely aware that she had paused her journey to discreetly watch the scene unfold, the fingers of her right hand reached along for the side of her skirt. Fin’s fingertips skimmed over her hand as she worked the fabric of her dress. In her curiosity, she had initially forgotten Fin’s presence. She was now acutely aware that he stood directly behind her, warm breath on her neck, fingertips grazing hers. “What do you think he’s trying to mime?” he whispered, teasing her.

  It was at this moment that the actor’s eyebrows rose and waggled as he pursed his lips and mouthed a sultry, “Come hither.” His victim was now waving his hands furiously in protest and throwing fists at all the others who laughed around him.

  Pan’s own lips quirked into a subtle smile as the comedian beckoned his unwilling lover forward with his index finger while using his other hand to give his own backside a hearty slap. Shaking her head, she bit her lips inward and ducked her chin to hide the chuckle that bubbled.

  “The lady has a racy sense of humor,” Fin taunted from behind. She felt his lips brush her neck, before he was once again ushering her along past the gentlemen who straightened up as they passed.

  “When did the orphanage become a part of your routine?” Fin questioned.

  “Actually, the first day you and I met. I had free time some days of the week, so I came to ask if I could help,” she said dropping her gaze so that he would not recognize the lie on her face. “I had heard that the children were in desperate need of medical attention. The sisters must have agreed, since they viewed a young, unmarried surgeon’s daughter as a blessing.”

  The truth was not quite the same. After delivering her message to Henri’s sister that first visit, Pan was asked to stay and chat with Sister Therese who ran the home. Sister Therese used no French in her vocabulary as she questioned Pan about her medical background and asked if she would consider providing aid to the home. Pan was surprised when the nun had not balked at the idea of a female physician. Sister Therese acted as though it was commonplace that an unmarried, upper class, young woman would wish to offer her time in service at a children’s home.

  The nun’s only concern had been where the funds for supplies would come from, the donations raised by the order being barely enough for food. In some strange twist, Pan had assumed ownership of the idea and assured the nun that she was fully prepared to shoulder the expense of any supplies or medicines that would be necessary. Pan had gone further to promise that if necessary, she would find additional donations.

  That day Pan had spoken with as much certainty as she could feign. In all honesty, her pin money was limited, her medical earnings were committed to her expenses at the prison, and she had never done any sort of fundraising for philanthropic pursuits.

  When the three arrived at the home, they were greeted by the noise of children scampering and the flurry of black habits chasing those children about. Removing her gloves, Pan scanned the parlor for Sister Therese. She stopped another nun walking by. “Good morning, Sister Henrietta. Have you seen Sister Therese?”

  “Dr. Pan,” the flustered nun nearly Pan’s age came to stop beside her. Henrietta’s eyes widened as she focused on Fin who was crouched talking with Tom. The two males were unbothered by the chaos around them. Sister Henrietta continued in a whisper, “Sister is upstairs. We didn’t know you would be bringing visitors to the home. Sister Margaret,” she paused to address a woman heading toward the kitchens, “please put coffee on. And ask Sister Agnes to bring clean wash rags to the upper level for the children’s faces. We have a guest,” she whispered with emphasis, nodding her head in Fin’s direction. The other nun scampered away.

  Sister Henrietta returned her attention to Pan, “I’ll gather the rest of the order upstairs to tend the children.” Both women giggled knowing that by tending she had meant trying to keep the children still and quiet, on their best behavior for any visitors.

  Pan laughed, “I don’t think it is necessary.” Fin was entertaining some children with silly faces.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Weathers,” came the firm voice of Sister Therese as she descended the stairs. Pan and Fin both looked up and greeted Sister Therese. Pan began her duties, allowing Fin to explain his visit to the order’s leader. Sister Therese listened intently and shot Pan a curious, albeit knowing, look.

  “So, you are acquainted with Dr. Fontenot, then,” the nun said. “The doctor is a blessing to us, donating so much of her time and talent to our home.”

  Sister Therese asked if he would care to tour the home again, but Weathers declined saying that he preferred to watch Dr. Fontenot complete her work with the children. The older nun nodded her understanding. Pan was making her way down the hallway with the gentleman following.

  “Do you offer the children your talents in the kitchen then, Dr. Fontenot?” he teased.

  A child’s voice answered, “No sir, Dr. Pan takes care of us.” Several children were standing in the hallway ahead, their usual practice when she arrived.

  Fin stepped around Pan and bent at the knees to give his attention to the little girl who had spoken. “Is that right? How does Dr. Pan take care of you?”

  Pan sighed as did the nun beside her. Sister Therese took her leave chuckling. Pan moved past t
he man who was crouched down, her skirts swaying by his face. She greeted each of the children in the hall by name. They each greeted her as Dr. Pan, before sitting down in a line along the hall.

  She caught sight of Tom hefting a large bag of flour in the kitchen. It had not escaped her that each of the children in the hallway had an orange slice. She smiled to herself at the boy’s sweet habit of saving the orange she gave him for the first group of children who waited to be seen by her. The box of damaged oranges would go straight to the kitchen for mealtime. Tom nodded a greeting in Pan’s direction, and she smiled in response before turning to the child nearest the closet door.

  She reached her hand down and the child reached up to take it. “Hi Joe. Let’s take a look.” They walked together into the small makeshift office.

  As the children came in for their exam with the doctor, they would curiously watch Mr. Weathers. Few men entered the home, and probably none who were so well dressed. Fin bent down and greeted each child with a smile. He liberally offered them the candy Pan had given him, running out after the fifth child.

  She laughed and gave him another handful. “One. They get one each. I am not practiced in dentistry.” He smiled sheepishly at her chastising.

  Sister Therese checked in from time to time. When Fin asked about the background of the children here, the nun explained that before the war the epidemic of Yellow Fever in New Orleans had left many children without families.

  As she worked, Pan listened as Fin asked the elderly nun questions about the children, the home’s investors and financial obligations, and the overall mission of the asylum. The Sisters of Charity had convinced a wealthy businessman to lease them this home, then empty, for free. Donations had been collected to feed and clothe the children.

  Since Pan’s first visit the sisters had set up an office of sorts for her so she could have a clean exam area and store some instruments and medicines to save her from having to bring them back and forth. Pan had chuckled that like Sister Theresa’s office, hers was a converted closet. The makeshift exam room was the opposite of her father’s immaculate, modern clinic. Regardless, Panacea felt a sense of pride upon entry each week. Fin, she noticed, did not seem offput by the small, impoverished space.