by Angela Lee
Her father’s deep voice came to her defense, “I think we can all agree that the decision was a poor one. Without the LMA, there has been no governing board to license physicians in the state.” Several of the diners agreed and the conversation continued though Pan refrained from further participation.
James had not mentioned the earlier exchange with Fin, but Pan was aware that her dinner companion had caught her glancing at the Creole. “How do you know that gentleman?” he asked as the next course, a savory goose souffle, was removed.
“I was introduced to him at a ball,” she answered, knowing that James was asking a different question. She was unwilling to offer any more than what he asked for.
A new edge sounded in James’ voice, “He seemed more familiar with you than that.” She paused a minute as the next course, roasted venison, was served.
“Papa is treating his friend’s war injuries,” she told him.
James set to work cutting his entrée with a bit of aggression. “You did not say that you had completed your coursework.”
The accusation made Pan snort and pause, utensils in each hand prepared to dig into the roast on her plate. She turned to stare at the person beside her as if he were a stranger. “Anyone would logically assume that a man would be a physician if he was working in an infirmary diagnosing and treating patients. When a woman is doing the same thing, no one has a clue what she’s about,” she snapped. She dropped her silver in disgust. The sharp ting of her fork clattering to her plate drew a few eyes.
There was a softer ting as James laid his silverware down and turned to her with a smile, obviously aware that they were drawing attention. “Miss Fontenot,” he whispered, “Pan, my intention was not to disrespect you. You did not return to Syracuse. You never communicated your achievement to me in your correspondence or even when we spoke the other day. How was I to know you had received your degree?” He lowered his eyes and dropped his voice even lower, “A stranger just introduced you as a doctor.”
Her anger was quickly replaced by embarrassment. More than once, she had been a terrible friend to this man. “James,’ she sighed patting his hand discreetly. She admitted in a gentle tone, “Initially, I solicited Columbian to allow my work at Syracuse to transfer. Columbian still refuses to admit women. It mattered not that my father was a teaching surgeon there. I attended Papa’s lecture classes anyway. When the Union took over their lab school, the commanding officer wrote to Syracuse on my behalf. He requested that they accept my work at the infirmary as an apprenticeship and credit the lecture courses I had attended with my father. Syracuse agreed and I was able to matriculate. I think the commander had expected me to stay on as a Union surgeon.”
“Amazing. Why didn’t you?” he said staring at her in awe.
“I moved here instead,” she shrugged and smiled. As she did so, she caught Fin’s narrowed gaze from across the table.
“Miss Fontenot,” came Mrs. Freret’s voice from the same direction. “Your mother tells us that you and our Dr. Harper were acquainted before moving to New Orleans. However, did you meet?”
“Truthfully, he caught me climbing to the top of a ten-foot-tall bookshelf.” There were giggles and gasps from the women around her.
“How intriguing. Like in a novel. You must have fallen, and our Dr. Harper was there to catch you,” Mrs. Freret could barely contain her enthusiasm.
“No,” Pan replied flatly.
Another wife joined in the conversation obviously hoping for some sort of romantic fairy tale, “Did he have to climb up and bring you down?”
“No,” Pan repeated. A genuine smile surfaced at the memory, “If you must know, Dr. Harper discovered me fulfilling the terms of a dare at the library.”
“Oh no, Pancy,” her mother chortled from across the table.
“A childhood friend and I had dared each other to climb to the top of the bookshelf and read several lines from a book before coming down.” Some of the older wives tutted at the idea of such unladylike behavior. Pan continued anyway, “We were careful to pick one of the shelves in the back because it was mounted to the wall. We planned to time each other and determine whoever was fastest. My friend was nervous, so I went first!” Most people at the table were smiling as she told her tale.
James took up the story, “I was walking around looking for one book while reading another. I turned down a row and saw Miss Fontenot at the top of the shelf reading in the loudest, most awful, stage whisper. I think she was imitating an…Englishman?” He looked at Pan for confirmation and she nodded with a giggle. James had deliberately omitted the fact that the random passage she had been reading had been about menses.
Beside her, James continued, “The other young woman was at the foot of the shelf laughing hysterically. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
“I was so embarrassed I almost fell off the shelf. Luckily, I was able to catch myself and make it down,” Pan finished.
“What did you say to her, Harper, when she reached the ground?” one of the other doctors teased.
“Well I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I was enchanted.” Feminine sighs came at her from every direction. Pan’s eyes sought her lap in discomfort. James kept speaking, “Besides, she ignored me. She was too busy asking her friend how fast she was.” The table erupted in laughter. Pan looked up to see James’s enamored smile; further down the table she could not ignore Fin’s hard expression.
Chapter Twenty-Two
With dinner finished, most of the men had moved on to play at the card tables in the library. The rest of the assembly were in the parlor being entertained by a hired pianist. Pan narrowed her eyes as Fin leaned in closer to the doctor’s wife that he had been conversing with for a quarter hour. The blond woman gave him her full attention with a bright smile and fingertips that kept tracing the edge of her champagne glass. Determined to ignore the scene, Pan turned her own smile to James who had remained at her side since dinner.
“You don’t mind, do you?” he was saying to her. She smiled wider unaware of how to answer when she had no idea what he was asking. “I’ll only play a hand or two. Then we can take a stroll.”
“Of course,” Pan answered. James gave her a questioning look, but she smiled and waved him away.
To her aggravation her eyes immediately sought Fin, but he was no longer in the room. Neither, she noticed, was the lovely woman he had been speaking with. Pan’s short fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm as her fist clenched. Her foot began to tap a furious staccato, and she ground her teeth in frustration. Jealousy was an unfamiliar emotion for Pan; the thoughts in her brain were swirling with tempest-like ferocity.
All the things she would say to Fin. How she’d like to give that married woman a what for! How quickly could one break another’s nose she wondered? How to land a punch directly on the septum to cause the most pain? Which nose would she break, his or hers? At least she would not be expected to administer treatment to her victims, as few people present at this dinner respected her as a physician. She shook her head with an unfeminine huff.
Any moment she was going to snap and rant some of the absurd thoughts racing through her mind. Or cry. Oh, Holy Mother help her. She could feel the well of irrational tears surfacing. Pan hated being this far from the city. Too far to walk, no nearby hack to call, her only escape was to head out onto the veranda and hope no one was there.
Thankfully everyone was still occupied, and Pan made her way outside undetected. The Freret’s gaslit walking paths led to a gazebo and nearby fishing pond. It wasn’t a wise idea to stroll the path unattended, but Pan needed to exert herself to expel the frustration. Alone, she tried sorting through the anger, jealousy, hurt, confusion, everything she was feeling in response to seeing James. Seeing Fin. Seeing Fin with other women. Remembering Fin’s kiss.
She closed her eyes desperately trying to stay the tears while she mentally labeled each drawer.
“You don’t belong with him.” The low voice behind her did it. Sh
e felt the pendulum of emotions swing within her. Fury it would be. She swung around mid-step.
For most of her life, Pan had been left to herself to chase her own interests, never finding herself the interest of another’s pursuits. Other ladies might have found the turn of events exciting, flattering even. Pan felt unsettled.
In the last few weeks she had become the focus of gossip, malicious and otherwise, James had come back into her life, and then there was the man who was addressing her now. He found her at her most vulnerable moments; he arrived when she needed space to quiet her thoughts. He even came to her in her dreams. In her very delicious dreams.
“I am not with him. He is an old friend from college,” Pan argued fiercely spinning back around and walking furiously toward the gazebo.
“I heard the story at dinner.” Fin had no problem keeping pace and offering his dry response. “You arrived together. I assure you, belle, any man with eyes in his head wants more from you than friendship.”
“We arrived at the same time. He did not escort me. Nor would it be any of your concern if he did,” she continued at a furious pace before stopping to taunt, “Perhaps your concern would be better placed on the lovely doctor’s wife.”
His usually relaxed manner stuttered. She noticed the telling tick on the left side of his jaw, as if he had clenched his teeth together on the one side. His eyes narrowed and darkened. He stepped closer to her, purposely invading her space so that she would step back. When she did, he again moved forward driving them both from the lit path into the shadows beneath the low limbs of a mature live oak.
Running his thumb over her jawline he said quietly, “More and more I find that your happiness is most important to me. You don’t want him.”
“I don’t?” her response was intended to be a dry retort, instead it sounded curious and confused even to her own ears. If only his tone had carried some of the anger she had seen in his physical reaction. These words, this tone, reflected another emotion all together, an affectionate softness that was causing her more mental chaos. This was exhausting.
“He won’t make you happy,” he repeated.
“And you will?” her voice once again betrayed with its hopeful sound. His thumb had traced down her neckline and was making its way feather light over her bare shoulders. His face drew closer, his lips inches from hers.
“I want to try. I wish you would allow it.” His lips brushed over hers softly, just the hint of a touch.
The determined man was walking her backward. For every step he took to close the gap between them, she took a smaller backwards step away. Fin maintained his gentle grip and kept his heated gaze trained on her for the entirety of their silent retreat.
She felt the abrasive warmth of the oak tree at her back and knew that they would now be completely engulfed in the tree’s overhanging branches out of view from anyone within. Though she could go no further, Fin still stepped closer, pushing her skirts up against her thighs.
Fin lifted the hand holding her dress to his lips, kissed it, and then wrapped it over his shoulder. Her fingers skimmed the firmness of his shoulder blade and trailed his corded neck. Her other hand had independently reached up to stroke the bicep of his other arm.
Fin cradled her face in both of his large hands. Pan could barely breathe; nervousness and excitement had frozen her. Even her mind had completely stilled for perhaps the first time in her life. All she could see, or think was this moment, of the heat of those hands holding her face, of the solid biceps and shoulders her own hands now explored. Of how very much she was in the exact spot she most wanted to be.
He leaned forward and grazed her mouth with his lips. “Why do you fight this? You feel the rightness between us, I know you do.”
Under the canopy of the oak, surrounded by the ringing of crickets and rolling calls of bullfrogs, Fin kissed her slowly. It was a gentle press of his mouth, a nuzzling of her lips. Not shy or holding back, just patient.
Pan absolutely knew that this man was taking his time. His tongue lazily dragged over her bottom lip and then suckled it into his mouth. He tilted his head and deepened his kiss, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue.
Where he was relaxed in his affections; she felt ignited. Her entire body was thrumming; she clutched Fin’s coat front to pull him closer and then raced her hands inside his lapels to scour the linen of his shirt. It was not the warm flesh that she wanted to feel but at least more than the thickness of his dinner jacket. She could feel his solid chest against his shirt, found the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her hands.
Still calm, Fin responded to her touch by kissing along her jaw to her neck alternating between whispered kisses to heavier suckles and licks. His hands traced slowly over her body, heating her even through the silk of her dress. His hands rested on her hips and she could feel him gathering her skirts. Her own hands feverishly worked over the fabric of his shirt and moved down the front of his abdomen.
“Not this time, belle,” he whispered, stopping her from continuing south by nudging a fistful of her skirts into each of her hands. Reaching beneath her petticoats, he stilled when his hand touched her bare hip. He pulled back and looked at her thoughtfully a moment, an unasked question lingering.
Saying nothing, he returned his attention to kissing a path along her neck and skating his hands over the smooth skin of her thighs. His mouth reached her earlobe and gently nipped it with his teeth. She felt his confident fingers slide through the triangle of curls between her thighs before reaching the valley of her sex.
“Do you want this, belle?” he whispered.
“Yes. Fin. Yes,” she moaned, rocking her hips into his hand as his feathered touch blazed across her woman’s flesh. His patient fingers found and stroked small circles over the small bud that burned most for his touch. Her hips rocked and circled, grinding against his palm as he slid one finger into her warm depths. Like his kiss, the pace of his finger sliding in and out was a sensual pulse. As Fin continued the rhythm and added another finger into her now slick heat, Pan released a tortured cry of pleasure.
She felt as if she was reaching for something just beyond her grasp. Like she was on the precipice of triumph but the journey to it was both agonizing and delicious. The slower Fin worked her, the more she ground against his hand and silently hurried him to win this mystery race.
“Relax. Let it happen, Pan,” he murmured. Pan was lost in the passionate awakening her body was experiencing. Fin’s warm breath caressed her ear as he continued whispering words that she was too unraveled to decipher. She felt heated everywhere, every part of her vibrating with energy.
Her climax came in seconds, bursting forth like a wave of heat and relief throughout her body. Fin quieted her moans with his kiss.
He gentled the actions of his mouth and hands but continued a soft caress of her core and trailed kisses along her neck allowing the final waves of her pleasure to roll away at their own leisurely pace. Her entire body had calmed, and she breathed in slow deep pulls, her forehead pressed to his shoulder. She dropped several inches from her tip toes in her relaxed state and heard him chuckle in amusement.
He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Pan was still and silent, as she collected herself. She ran her hands over her hair to make certain it was in place and pressed out the wrinkles with her hands.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as their eyes connected.
And just like that the drawers in her brain opened, and the thoughts tumbled out. This had been another mistake on her part. It was selfish to have let it go this far. Any further entanglements with this man would be costly to them both. She exhaled and dropped her head.
She spoke to her slippers, unable to look at him, “Mr. Weathers, whatever this is. Whatever you are seeking from me, it cannot be. We are not right for one another.” Before he could respond, she turned and walked back to the lit path and followed it into the ballroom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pancy,
It
occurred to me as you left today, that I wasn’t fair to you. I’ve given you this ultimatum, to be here to deliver my baby no matter the cost.
More than my twin, or my sister, even more than my friend, you are the other half of my soul. I want only for your happiness. I made you promise today without thought to the burden it would place on you. I know that this will cause you undue worry that you might not be here in time. Forgive my selfishness.
Sister, how fortunate I am. I have grown in the love of a warm and wonderful family. I have known true friendship in you and Libby. I married the love of my life and have now felt the kick of my unborn child.
My truest wish is that you will be here to share my joy when she arrives (certainly this babe will be a girl.) It is more important to me, however, that you achieve your goals.
I release you from your promise. Be happy, Pan.
-Gi
Alone in her bedroom, Pan let the tears fall as she reread the letter she had read only once before. When she had received the letter almost two years before, she had been bogged down with worry that she would not keep the promise she had made to return in time to deliver Gigi’s baby. At the time the letter had not relieved her concern at all.
In fact, she had nearly missed the delivery, arriving home that very morning. One of Pan’s deepest fears, still, was that her sister’s death had been her fault. Doubts plagued her. If she had gotten home earlier, would she have realized something in an earlier assessment of Gigi? If she had rested more, would she have been more prepared to handle the complications during delivery?
She had buried the letter in a box of memories. It had remained tucked beneath the many letters Gigi had written while Pan had been at school, a lock of her sister’s hair, the list of golden things.
