by Sandra Hill
“I’m not sure.” Who knew where she’d be five days from now? “Can I let you know later?”
“Absolutely.”
“Anyhow, I’m sorry to call so early. Is Luc around?”
“Yes. He’s having breakfast with the girls. I’ll go get him.”
After a few moments, a male voice said, “What’s the prick done now?”
She laughed. “It’s not about Nick this time. Well, not totally.”
He listened without interruption while she gave a brief summary of the situation at Bayou Rose. When she finished, he used one of Clarence’s favorite sayings, “Holy shit!” Then he asked a few questions. “You say Angus is involved with the Dixie Mob?”
“Yes. At thirty-three percent.”
“Holy shit!” he said again. “And Nick is actually into the baby black market? He must really be desperate for cash.”
Desperation being the key word for us all. “Nick is always desperate for cash, as you well know.”
“Especially after you cut off his access to the money tree.”
The money tree being me. “What should we do?”
“Well, first off, I need to meet with Angus and Lily Beth. How about if I come out to the plantation at two? And I’ll bring Tee-John with me, if he’s available. He knows more about the mob than I do.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Don’t let those two go anywhere until we make sure the plantation is secure. In fact, I’ll bring Angel Sabato with me. He knows a lot about security systems. On the other hand, maybe I’ll wait to see what Tee-John recommends.”
“I’ll tell Daniel.”
“Speaking of the gloomy one . . . how’s Daniel taking this invasion into his private life?”
“Pretty well, actually. And his medical background should help in assessing Lily Beth’s condition.”
“What a mess! This is the kind of nonsense my aunt usually brews up.”
“Oh, Lord! Whatever you do, don’t let Tante Lulu know what’s going on. She’ll show up with a shotgun and a satchel full of swamp prenatal herbs.”
Luc laughed.
After she ended the call, she went down to the kitchen. Lily Beth lay on the sheet-covered table, which had been cleared, and Daniel was palpating her stomach and listening to the baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope.
“Sounds good. That little one has got a strong heartbeat.”
Lily Beth released a breath of relief. “Thank God!”
Then he put a blood pressure cuff on her arm and studied a pocket meter. “Your bp is slightly elevated . . . one-thirty over eighty-three, but that could be usual gestational hypertension for the third trimester. Worth watching but no real concern.”
“Does that rule out preeclampsia?” Lily Beth asked.
“For now,” he answered.
“What is normal blood pressure?” Lily Beth wanted to know.
“One-twenty over eighty.” He removed the cuff, then moved to the counter where there was a small closed plastic container with a yellow liquid. Urine, Samantha presumed. Also on the counter were a rubber tourniquet, a used syringe and antiseptic coated gauzes, and two test tubes of blood.
Angus was at the sink washing dishes, looking somewhat gray in the face. Probably a reaction to the needle. Some folks couldn’t take the blood test procedure, even just watching it.
Daniel helped Lily Beth to sit up on the table, then to lower her legs over the side. “Your swelling is probably due to normal edema, but we’ll know more after the test results. Considering all you’ve been through, you’re in surprisingly good health, young lady.”
Lily Beth put her hands on her belly and blinked away tears. “Thank you. I was worried,” she whispered. Then, in a louder voice, “Does that mean I don’t have to see an obstetrician?”
“Of course you’ll have to see an obstetrician, but you should be okay for a few days. Providing the urine analysis and blood tests come back okay.”
Lily Beth nodded and shimmied her rump off the table. “I’ll dry those,” she offered to Angus. The two of them hugged in apparent relief over Daniel’s diagnosis.
Samantha moved out of the doorway and went over to Daniel who was putting the vials and the urine container in a small insulated bag with blue ice. She told him, “Luc and John LeDeux will be here at two o’clock, if that’s all right.”
Daniel glanced up, then did a double take. He must not have realized she’d been back for the past five minutes or so. Scanning her body, and its scanty attire, he whistled softly and told her, “In the meantime, you and I are going for a ride.”
At first, she felt a little thrill of excitement ripple over her, but then he added, “We’re going shopping.”
Her initial disappointment faded as she reminded herself, shopping could be exciting, too. “Shopping for what?”
“A fridge,” he said. “And maybe a bed. And groceries. But first I have to drop off these blood vials and urine sample.”
“All that in less than five hours? Remember, we have to be back here by two.”
“How long could it take to buy a fridge and a bed? Don’t they sell them both in the same place?”
“Are you kidding? When I shop, I usually have to hit at least three stores, to compare styles. For a fridge alone. For a bedroom set? Goodness! Maybe five stores.”
“Five stores! What’s to compare? A fridge is a fridge, and a bed is a bed.”
“That is man thinking.”
A short time later, they had been about to enter Daniel’s SUV when Daniel said, “Oh, I forgot. Wait here a minute. I need to get something from Aaron’s office.” She enjoyed the sun while she waited, basking in its warmth and the smell of the myriad flowers that abounded here. Magnolia, bougainvillea, even the fecund scent of the bayou which was more than two hundred yards away, beyond the wide lawn, across a narrow one-lane road. At one time, flatboats would have docked here to pick up the sugar cane for market.
When Daniel returned, he shoved a binder into her hands. “Check this out. It’s a list of furniture and stuff left in storage by the previous owner. There’s not a lot, but some of it looks valuable.”
“What? How could you have forgotten something so important? Men!”
He shrugged.
Once they were inside Daniel’s SUV and were on their way, the AC a welcome pleasure, she opened the binder. There were lists, as well as photographs of furniture and accessories, like mirrors and a few paintings. Even some sepia-toned photographs of the original house and how it had looked back in the 1800s.
“Daniel! This is amazing. Wonderful! How could you . . . or Aaron . . . have bought that modern bedroom set when you have such treasures. This mansion is better suited to antiques, not IKEA assembly line stuff.”
“We needed some furniture right away. I have a matching, smaller bedroom set in my apartment. What do we know about antiques? As far as I’m concerned, a Chippendale is a dancer.”
She smiled. “I can help you, or you could hire a designer to come in and give you advice.”
“All of that costs big bucks, and this renovation is a money pit, as it is.”
“It doesn’t have to be done all at once. You have years to furnish the place, but it’s best to use the historically accurate pieces you have, or buy antiques, one at a time.”
“You’re assuming I . . . we . . . are going to keep this place that long.”
“You aren’t?”
“I have no idea what I’ll be doing next week, let alone next year. And Aaron’s not much better.”
“I thought you said that you like the bayou, that you feel at home here.”
“That’s not exactly what I said. But, yeah, I suspect we’ll stay in this region. I’m just not sure that we’ll keep this plantation, though. It was a looney tunes idea of Aaron’s, to begin with. And, honestly, I can’t see myself involved in an animal enterprise, nor Tante Lulu’s push for me to become a country GP. And spending my time antiquing doesn’t appeal, either. I know, I know, you’
re thinking I have lots of free time since I gave up medicine. Still . . .” He shrugged.
“Here’s what I suggest for today. Buy the fridge, if you need it, and a full-size mattress and box spring to fit this bedroom set.” She pointed to a picture of an ornately carved, rice post bed frame, an armoire, a dresser, and a dry sink. “You can have someone deliver the items you want now out of your storage space. And while they’re there, they could also bring these two mirrors. Everything else . . . pictures, parlor and dining room furniture . . . leave in storage until the sanding and painting is completed.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“We can buy both the mattress set and fridge at Costco, unless you want to go to separate furniture and appliance stores. And we can get the groceries at Costco, too.”
“I could kiss you for that,” he said.
When she glanced over at him with surprise, he smiled. “It was just an expression.” But the wink he added belied his words.
That kiss! That blasted kiss they’d shared stood between them like a big white sizzling elephant. Neither of them was forgetting it.
“The closest Costco is in Metairie, which is about fifty miles from here. We’d be cutting it short, getting back here by two.”
“I’m a quick shopper.”
“If you say so. Where’s Aaron, by the way?”
“Working. He’ll be back this afternoon. Hopefully.”
They had just hit Houma and Daniel pulled off the road and into the parking lot of Terrebonne Oncology Center. “I want to drop off these blood vials and the urine sample,” he told her before she had a chance to ask why they were stopping. “Stay in the car where it’s cool. I’ll be right out.”
When he hadn’t returned in fifteen minutes, Samantha got curious. Entering the automatic doors into the reception area, she asked an attendant at the desk. “I’m looking for Daniel LeDeux. He came in here a little while ago.”
“You mean Doctor LeDeux?”
“Yes.”
“He went up to the third floor, pediatrics, to do a consult for Doctor Laroche. Do you want me to page them?”
Samantha knew George Laroche, or rather, she’d heard of him from her attendance at charity events. He was founder and director of this medical clinic, and a well-regarded cancer specialist.
“No, I’ll go up myself, if that’s all right,” Samantha said.
The attendant just shrugged.
Samantha entered a nearby elevator and hit the number three button. Immediately, she had reservations.
I should have stayed in the car.
I should mind my own business.
But how is it that he can just drop off blood vials for testing, without having a Louisiana medical license?
And what’s his connection to Doctor Laroche?
And pediatrics? Wasn’t that Daniel’s specialty?
Hmmm.
When the elevator pinged and she exited onto the pediatric ward, she could hear the excited voices of children coming from the various rooms, along with some crying, one youthful scream, followed by a youthful exclamation of, “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” Then, “You’re a poop head!” The colors here were brighter than the usual sterile hospital corridors. Here and there on the walls hung children’s crayon drawings. From one room, she could hear Pharrell Williams’s “Happy” song blaring out, probably a video playing on someone’s TV.
She was about to go over to the nurse’s station and ask for Daniel’s whereabouts when she noticed what looked like a children’s playroom up ahead and a man in blue scrubs and a surgical cap standing inside. He looked like . . . yes, he was George Laroche.
She moved in that direction, then stopped just outside the door, transfixed by what she saw. It was here that the TV was playing. Scattered about the room were child-size tables and chairs, beanbags, and a toy chest overflowing with stuffed animals and games. There was even a tricycle.
Doctor Laroche was watching Daniel who was down on his haunches speaking softly to a little girl wearing a ballerina outfit in hot pink and a knitted cap on her head. Ruffled anklet socks were on her feet, inside red, sparkly Dorothy shoes, as in The Wizard of Oz. The girl was sobbing.
“I doan want no more needles, Doctor Dan,” she cried.
“I know, princess, but they make you better.”
“Doan care! Where’s Daddy?”
“He had to go home to work.”
That caused another bout of sobbing.
“Will you let me give you the shot, Molly, if I promise it won’t hurt?”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart and never lie. Stick a noodle in my eye,” he said, giving a cockeyed version of that old children’s rhyme.
Molly, who had to be about five years old, smiled through her tears, revealing two empty spaces in front. “Okay, Doctor Dan,” she said.
Doctor Laroche motioned toward a nurse who had come up behind Samantha, and she brought in a tray with an alcohol swab, syringe, and a Cinderella Band-Aid.
Sinking down to a cross-legged position on the floor, Daniel tugged the little girl onto his lap, adjusting her tutu to fit. Then, surreptitiously, the nurse handed him the swab and needle. The whole time, Daniel kept talking. “Now you know the drill, princess. Who are you today? Ariel or Belle?”
“Silly! I’m Jasmine,” Molly said.
“Here we go,” Daniel said, swabbing the skin of her thin upper arm. “Do you want to start?”
She nodded. “Eenie meenie miney moe.”
“Catch a princess by the toe,” Daniel said, pretending to grab for her foot, but then slipping the needle into her arm.
“If she hollers—” the little girl giggled and let out an exaggerated howl.
“Let her go.” Daniel put a Band-Aid on the arm and raised both hands to show he was done.
Then they both said in a singsong voice, “Eenie meenie miney mo!”
“You were terrific, princess.”
“Am I done?”
“Yep.”
“Kiss, kiss, Doctor Dan.” She threw herself at him, gave him two wet kisses, one on each cheek, then wrapped her thin arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.
Daniel hugged her back, his eyes closed with emotion. Just then, he glanced up and noticed Samantha standing in the doorway.
Their gazes held for a long moment.
Love.
The word hit her suddenly, not with a wallop to the heart, but a softening of all that had become hard in her the past few years.
Love.
When was the last time she’d felt this way and for whom?
It had been for Nick, of course, before they’d married.
And this scene, of a caring doctor and his desperately needy patient, it was exactly how she’d imagined Nick, before her eyes had been opened and before her heart had shut down.
Love?
For Daniel?
It was unbelievable. Unacceptable. Unwise. Untimely. Unreal.
Tears filled Samantha’s eyes, and she turned, not wanting Daniel to see her emotion, but also not wanting to intrude further on his private moment. She went back to the car where she sat frozen with disbelief for about fifteen more minutes.
Me? In love with Daniel? Could I have been so blind? Sure, there’s a fine line between love and hate, but the sniping between the two of us the dozens of times we’ve met was surely a sign of dislike, not like. Or love, bless my foolish heart.
The Great God of Irony must be doing the Snoopy dance over my falling for another doctor.
But maybe it’s all my imagination. A blip of madness in the midst of the madness that has become my life.
When Daniel got in the driver’s seat, he just sat, staring ahead for a long moment, his fingers clenched on the steering wheel. Then he turned to her. “Well, aren’t you going to say something?”
There were so many things she wanted to say.
Like, “Why would you give up medicine when it clearly touches you so?”
Or, “So, you’re a fami
liar face at a cancer medical center? Does that mean you have a Louisiana medical license after all?”
Or, “I think I’m falling a little bit in love with you.”
But all she could come up with was a most innocuous, “Doctor Dan?”
Chapter Sixteen
Some people say shopping is a form of foreplay . . .
An hour later, Daniel wasn’t surprised that they’d accomplished all their errands in record time, but Samantha was.
“No fuss, no bother. In and out,” he told Samantha after pulling out of the parking lot for the Designer Overstock Home Warehouse. It was at his insistence that they’d stopped here, instead of going all the way to Metairie to the big box store. “Women could learn a lot about shopping from men.”
She rolled her eyes.
After leaving the medical center and heading out of Houma, Daniel had noticed a billboard for the warehouse, which in smaller print had mentioned “appliances, furniture, fine accessories, everything for the home.” Forget the Costco that was almost an hour away, this could be a better alternative, he’d told her.
“But it’s a scratch-and-dent kind of place,” she’d protested.
“Who cares about a little wear and tear? Bayou Rose Plantation is a homage to wear and tear.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
Her words had been cut off as he’d abruptly pulled over to the side of the road and made a U-turn.
“Are you crazy? That pickup truck almost T-boned us.”
“You mean the one with the cowboy who gave me the finger? Or the one with the bumper sticker that read, ‘Keep Honking, I’m Reloading’?”
She’d just ignored his question and braced her feet on the floorboard, as if they were going to crash. Silly girl . . . rather, woman! He was a careful driver, having served a residency in trauma where the effects of lead-footed driving were often accompanied by massive amounts of blood.
Within an hour, he’d picked out a pillow-top mattress set for the antique double bed frame, which would go in a second floor bedroom, but also two single mattress sets, which would be placed temporarily in the front parlor for Angus and Lily Beth, and later moved upstairs to a guest room. Then he bought a whopping big, thirty-six-cubic-foot stainless steel fridge with a bunch of bells and whistles, and hardly a dent or scratch in evidence. Water and ice dispenser, of course. French doors. And, to appease Samantha’s call for historical integrity, a special kit that would allow for wood panels to cover the fridge at a later date to match whatever cabinets were installed. Apparently, preservationists called for modern conveniences to be hidden. You weren’t supposed to know there was a fridge, or a television, or dishwasher, or even, God forbid, a toilet. And, no, he didn’t buy a fridge with a built-in keg, as Aaron had suggested, but this one did have a “blast chiller” that turned warm beer cold within minutes.
