Love Story on Canal

by Angela Lee

  “I told no one in that room. You did.”

  “You had already informed everyone that I am a doctor.”

  “You are a doctor, belle. But I did not make an announcement,” he moved closer and Pan held her breath. “I wanted my family to know all about the woman who has consumed my every thought.” He took her hand and kissed her palm, “The woman who holds my future in her very beautiful hands.”

  Pan shifted uncomfortably. Fin’s eyes were dark with desire and it was hard to ignore the slow throb that had begun between her thighs. She sighed, “We agreed not to pursue this.”

  “No, we didn’t,” he murmured as he kissed along her neck, thumbs rubbing circles along her arm.

  Drawers were opening at will in her head. She was playing a game of mental whack a mole as she closed one, another opened. “Fin, I don’t want to jeopardize your bid for councilman,” she told him as her neck arched to allow him more canvas.

  He continued his affection as he mumbled against her throat, “How could you?”

  “Our friendship may not be beneficial to your endeavor.”

  That caught his attention. He pulled back and replied slowly, “You have a way of lumping all men’s attention into that category. I can only see a positive outcome to our friendship.”

  “Don’t be obtuse,” she whispered in frustration. “Tradition runs very deep here. It would hurt your campaign to be aligned with a progressive woman. At the Freret’s dinner, the doctor and his wife pretended to not hear that I am a physician. They are neither Creole nor Southern and he is a surgeon! Though I might attempt to keep my disposition discreet, you seem incapable of doing so. I have been here four months, and no one has been alerted to the fact that I am a doctor. You have known but a few weeks and now your entire clan is informed.”

  His jaw hardened, and his entire posture became tense, “Is Dr. Harper more alike then? Would he be a more suitable match? Would you be happier standing in his shadow, allowing him to speak for you when you would for yourself?”

  Her own anger flared, “This has nothing to do with James. You are wrong in your assumptions.”

  He closed his eyes as if forcing himself to calm down and said more gently, “Belle, the man you choose should applaud your successes. Encourage your endeavors. You had not even told James that you had completed your studies. Why is that, I wonder?” He leaned so close she could feel his lips against her ear. “You are being obtuse in trying to detour me. It’s too late. From the start I have wanted more than your friendship. I want all of you. Every delicious part of you. And you, sweet belle, want me too.”

  His tongue traced her ear lobe sending tingles down her neck. Thank God they were in a darkened alcove so that no one could see the heated blush she felt burning everywhere. He suckled her lower lobe, pearl earring and all. She felt his teeth graze the lobe before he pulled away.

  “You are an accomplished woman. I knew my family would marvel at your accomplishments as I do. You heard them yourself. You are beautiful and unique and amazing. I have every intention of wooing you.” Each statement brought his kisses closer to her mouth until he spoke the last sentence against her lips. His mouth claimed hers, fueling the fire that burned within them both. Pan trembled with the sensation, her leg lifting of its own volition to rub against his through her volumes of skirts.

  A throat cleared in the hallway and Fin groaned. He pulled her head into his chest, a kind way of protecting her identity. Of course, anyone would know it was her, but at least this way she wouldn’t feel the complete sting of having to face the other person.

  Something must have been silently communicated between him and whoever had been standing there because a moment later she felt him kiss the top of her hair. He lifted her chin with his fingertips, “You need not worry, no one will hear of this.”

  She nodded, hoping he was right. It must have been one of his family members, if he was unconcerned about the witness running into the parlor to announce what they had seen. He pulled away from her and shifted several times, obviously trying to adjust his erection. Though she was mortified that one of his uncles or cousins had obviously observed them, Pan couldn’t help but giggle at his predicament.

  “Minx,” he whispered nipping her lip one last time before leading her into the parlor. When they entered the parlor, Fin offered to her a glass of sherry. He made his way to the bar leaving Pan to uncomfortably scan the room for her parents.

  Anne Marie chose that exact moment to swoop in and bare her claws, “How kind of Mr. Weathers to invite your family. He does like to be a man of the people.” The blond beauty had been staring daggers at her throughout the meal. Pan didn’t bother to correct the hostile woman by telling her that it was his mother who had extended the invitation.

  Now in front of Pan, the other woman barely veiled her contempt. She looked at Pan’s dress and said “Your dress is becoming. So modest.”

  Was modesty insulting? She was ill equipped to fight with fashion set downs. Gigi would have handled a situation like this with aplomb.

  Pan averted her gaze and caught sight of Hebe, who was cornered by one of Fin’s cousins across the room. Her friend rolled her eyes. Pan winked and felt a bit empowered just knowing that a friend was near, “Thank you. Your dress is a lovely shade. It is a perfect complement to the Villere’s loveseat.”

  Anne Marie’s eyebrows furrowed in irritation. Her mouth drew a straight angry line. Apparently matching the upholstery had not been her intention when selecting a dress for the evening.

  A cough alerted Pan to the presence of Alex and two other gentlemen. Though the men’s faces were blank, Alex’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Assuming that he had probably overheard, Pan displayed a face of innocent friendliness. The two bachelors greeted Anne Marie and then turned their attention to her. She waited for Alex to introduce them as was custom.

  The taller of the two gentlemen spoke instead, “Miss Fontenot, you look as lovely this evening as the last I saw you.”

  Thunder. She must have danced with him before; no introduction would be forthcoming. Pan pasted a bright smile, and discreetly grabbed the side of her skirt, “How kind.”

  “Miss Fontenot, I find myself jealous that Weathers has claimed your attentions, I had hoped to call on you myself.” Really? Now the other man was speaking. Had she danced with him, too?

  She felt like she was in some sort of high society hell. The two men in front of her obviously knew her and expected some sort of reciprocated memory. Anne Marie was seething where she stood. Pan looked to Alex for silent assistance, but his gaze was trained on his brother who stood across the room talking with Hebe. Where was the drawer with their damned names! Her smile was frozen in place as she mentally sought a method of escape.

  “Lucky for me then, Marigny, that I asked first.” Fin handed her a flute of champagne. He stood alongside her and whispered, “The other one is Riordan.” She subtly nodded, embarrassed that Fin knew she had no idea who the men in front of her were. Fin’s hand caressed the knuckles of her hand that discreetly worked the fabric of her dress.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following afternoon, Pan rushed into the parlor, hoping that whoever had shown up would be on their way soon. She was so rarely home during calling hours that it never occurred to her to let the staff know that she did not want to receive any today. She was just on her way out to finally deliver the messages that had been piling up.

  “Oh! James, this is unexpected.” She greeted him with a smile.

  He walked over and kissed her hand, “I hope you like the flowers.” She followed James’ gaze to the red roses that sat on the table.

  Pan smiled in agreement, “Indeed. They are lovely, James. Thank you.” The dozen roses had been delivered the day before. Another delivery had come that day as well, three dozen yellow ranunculus. Pan felt slightly guilty that she had arranged the roses in the family parlor, but had the buttercups sent to her bedroom. She had woken up to the sight of them this morning and thou
ght of Fin.

  “I would have thought that you would be meeting with the Medical Association today.” Pan tried not to sound hopeful, but in addition to delivering messages Pan wanted to check back in with Mrs. Byrne to ensure that the nursing mother was regaining her strength. To make matters worse, it was a baking day so she would not have Tom’s help.

  James offered his arm, “My special committee meeting finished early; I thought we might stroll together?” Thunder.

  Their stroll through the small courtyard was mostly a quiet one. As classmates their conversations had never been longwinded. James’s brilliant mind usually kept him occupied in his own thoughts. At Syracuse, Pan and Libby tried to tease him out of his contemplation. Now, etiquette won out and she introduced some topics which they discussed in turn; Libby, teachers and other students from school, things they had done since they had last seen each other.

  Distracted by her own concerns, Pan welcomed a return to the comfortable silence; more than that, she dreaded the idea of James broaching any subjects that dealt with topics she was not ready to discuss. She said a silent prayer of thanksgiving that he hadn’t. Too soon.

  James spoke quietly, “Pan, for a long time I have wanted to speak to you of my affections. I avoided it, avoided coming to call. Your grief was still apparent in your correspondence.” Or lack thereof.

  “That was a dark time for me,” Pan hoped that would end this uncomfortable conversation.

  James had other intentions, “But now, you look well. Healthier. Happier. I am glad you have moved on from your grief.”

  “I do feel in some ways recovered. Though I’m not sure that I will ever move on from the loss. I’m just better at tucking the grief away from the forefront of my every thought. I still miss Gigi greatly,” she replied feeling relieved to speak to someone honestly about her sister.

  James led her to a bench along the path and waited for her to sit. He sat next to her and then turned his body to face her, “Pan, my feelings for you have not changed.”

  She stopped and looked at the man who had kissed her in front of her college residence hall. The man who had watched with a straight face as she read a silly passage from the top of a bookshelf she had climbed on a dare. Pan thought of the class lectures they had attended together and discussed afterwards and the formal dinner they had attended the other night, not together but together none the less. Remembered his light kiss long ago and the butterflies she had felt as a result.

  “What are you saying exactly, James?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m saying that I wish to marry you.”

  Pan leaned her face toward the sky, letting the sunshine warm her face as she closed her eyes and exhaled. It seemed she would have to face this today whether she wanted to or not. She lowered her face and looked at him.

  Before she could speak, he took her hands in his and spoke earnestly, “Pan, we make sense, you and me. We are the right fit; I’ve felt that way since we met. I tried to be patient and give you the time and space you needed to grieve.”

  An apologetic smile was all she could offer before a handful of questions tumbled from her mouth, “What sort of marriage did you foresee us having, James? What type of marital life would you want? What would you want from me as your wife?”

  James blinked at her in surprise as if he had never considered the idea, any of them. Pan, herself, had never considered the idea of what married life would entail. She realized in this moment that it mattered. It mattered what sort of marriage she would want. It mattered who the man was that she should marry, what type of husband he would be, what sort of wife he would want of her. She had grown up witness to a loving partnership, but she knew that was not always the case.

  She never planned to marry before Gigi’s death; afterwards she considered wedding the first sensible gentleman to cross her path. Neither of those plans included her own ideas, wishes, or imaginings of marital circumstance.

  “I suppose that I would continue on as a military doctor. I would request to remain stationed here near your family so that you would have the support you need as we begin a family.” He looked at his hands as he spoke talking about a life, he hoped they would share. “At the end of my enlistment, I could open a practice. You can assist me once the children have grown. I think it will be a good life.”

  Pan looked at James. Sweet, serious James who once made her stomach flutter with a kiss. James who had just asked a woman, a doctor, that loved naughty jokes and taking risks to marry him, have his babies, and help in his clinic someday after the children were grown. A very traditional life for a not so traditional woman.

  “It sounds as if it would be a good life, James. But I want something more, or maybe just different, for my life. It would be selfish of me to marry you. I could not make you happy.”

  James’ answer rang of bitterness, “Are you saying, really, that I could not make you happy? But the politician will?”

  “He has no bearing on my feelings for you, James.”

  He finally turned to look at her his eyes sharp with anger, “But when he offers, will your answer be the same?” James held up a hand stopping her before she could respond, “Pan, what is it that will make you happy? What sort of life is it that you seek?”

  Fin’s words returned to her. I want a man who will applaud my success and encourage my endeavors while I do the same for him.

  To James she responded, “I am not wholly certain. I know only that what you described isn’t it. If I was miserable in our marriage, you would be as well. You are a good man James. I do care for you and hope that we can remain friends. I hope that you will not disappear from my life again.” She stood and he followed suit. They walked in silence back towards the entrance to her home.

  James was ever the gentleman, he escorted her through the gate to the entrance before taking his leave. He held her hand, “Pan, I am speaking way out of turn. If I was a better man, I would not continue to press. I always believed that you would be mine. It never occurred to me that you would not feel the same,” he shook his head as if to clear the thoughts and looked at her with hurt and pleading, “If you change your mind, if you wake tomorrow or the next day and decide that he is not the one you want.” He lifted her hand and kissed her glove, “My offer will stand if you rethink your choice.”

  Pan smiled and kissed his cheek. She whispered her thanks and turned to go into the house.

  ∞∞∞

  Over the next few hours, she pushed the visit from her thoughts as she speedily worked through delivering four messages and offering her aid at three of the homes. A visit to check in on a still exhausted Mrs. Byrne added to her own tension. She needed to find a better remedy for the post-partum woman who seemed to be deteriorating. Pan promised to return within three days but made Ian’s wife promise to send for her if she became any worse.

  Finally, weary from the day’s toils Pan raced the city streets only to realize she was still blocks from her home and the curfew bell had begun to ring. Fin’s office was just up ahead, and she hoped that he would still be there working. If so, he would certainly send her home in his carriage.

  Idiot. Why had she not packed a pistol? Every other needless thing in the world and nothing worthwhile to protect herself. It was growing darker by the minute. During the daytime hours, if one was watchful, they were safe. But after dark a woman by herself was an easy target. Perhaps she should withdraw one of her surgical knives.

  She tried to stay to the center of the sidewalk. Reasonably, she thought that this made the most sense as no one could grab her into an alleyway or press her into a dark patch along the brick. She kept her eyes alert for a hack. She alternated between walking briskly and walking at a relaxed pace, uncertain which would convey the most confidence. Really, someone should consider replacing some of the needless skills young women were trained in, needlepoint for example, and replace them with, say, lessons in defending one’s self when walking alone at night.

  She decided that the best attitude to p
roject would be one of confidence. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. Pan maintained a stride that was even and brisk. She was a woman going about her business, not interested in any hijinks.

  Thunder. The approaching ruffians did not seem to be receiving her message. Where were the patrols? What was the point of imposing a curfew if there was never somebody to enforce it when you needed them? The approaching men had stood talking in a group by the tavern. Upon noticing her they pointedly began slinking toward her position in the center.

  Thunder. Thunder. Thunder.

  One of her potential assailants made a low whistle, while another clucked his tongue. “Cher, my heart, come spend some time with me.” The closest villain cooed.

  “With all of us,” another countered. “Such beauty should be shared.” There were at least four men and they were now directly in front of her.

  “I am not interested. Let me pass.” She schooled her voice to be assertive, imitating that of her firmest schoolteacher. The men laughed and eyed her hungrily, apparently enjoying the thought of schoolteachers.

  She stepped right and attempted to continue forward away from them, but the two scoundrels on the right cut her off. She could feel every ounce of blood race from her face. Her heart was simultaneously lodged in her throat and slamming against her chest. Her eyes had brimmed with tears in her terror. She mentally screamed at herself to work through this as she would a procedure on the operating table.

  The swine nearest the street reached for her hair and said “Pretty girl like you must have come looking for friends and fun. That right? Let us be your friends. Let us show you some fun.” She jerked her head away from his touch and pushed her hands forward using her satchel to shove the man out of her way. He fell back, caught by surprise, and Pan ran.

  Heavy skirts and a loaded bag were slowing her down. Fortunately, inebriation balanced the scales as the men, too, were moving sluggishly. She heard their footfalls behind her and chanced a look over her shoulder. One of her pursuers was directly behind reaching out to grab her by the arm. She altered course to her left and let her satchel holding hand fly back to catch him, she hoped, in the face. She heard an “oomf” behind her but kept going. The men at her back were laughing and still taunting her, “Come on sweetheart. Don’t run away. Let’s have some fun.”