Doc pushed back from the table and regarded him with a curious stare. “You don’t look so happy. Want to tell me why?”
Jeff expelled a long breath. “I wish I knew.”
Doc reached for his coffee cup and took a sip. “That woman makes the best coffee.” He set the cup down and gave Jeff a wry smile. “Could it be you’re having second thoughts about going to New York?”
“It could be,” Jeff said slowly. “Trouble is, I don’t know if I’m having a problem with this because I want to stay or because God wants me to stay.” He paused to pick up the telegram and scan it once more. “Until you handed me this, I thought God was telling me to stay.”
“So what changed your mind?” He pointed to the paper. “This? It’s just a telegram, Jeff, not a message from the Lord.”
“How do you know that, Doc? What if it is a message? What if God is telling me I’m supposed to go to Columbia and work on that team? I mean, my goal has always been to do that. I owe it to my mother’s memory.”
Silence fell between them. Finally, Doc cleared his throat.
“So that’s why you were always so all-fired bent on doing research instead of taking over your father’s practice.” He leaned back in his chair and studied Jeff. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before now, but it sure makes sense.”
Irritation sparked. “What makes sense?”
“You getting ahead of the Lord, that’s what.” Doc’s eyes narrowed. “Here you are a trained medical doctor who ought to be practicing medicine with real people instead of looking into beakers and microscopes all day.” He leaned forward. “You’re wanting to even the score over your mama’s death by finding a cure, aren’t you? That’s why you’re bound and determined to head off to New York and set the world on fire, instead of staying here and saving lives.”
“Am I?”
Jeff tried in vain to conjure up an argument against the ludicrous suggestion. Surely his whole life plan hadn’t come from such a simplistic need for revenge over the death of his mother.
Or had it?
“Well, before you cash in that train ticket, let me give you another option.” Doc smiled and rubbed his balding head. “I’m an old man, and one of these days I’m not going to be wanting to do all the doctoring I can do now. What with your pop gone and me the only doctor left in town, I’ve been looking to take on a partner.”
He held up his hand to silence Jeff’s protest.
“Now before you go saying something you might have to take back, let me just remind you that the job of doctoring the fine people of this parish was good enough for your daddy and your granddaddy, and I hear tell your great-granddaddy did a might of doctoring of his own.” He paused and gave Jeff a direct look. “That’s a long line of history you’re trying to break. You better be sure the Lord’s telling you to break it.”
“Yes, Sir, I’ll give it some serious thought.”
Doc nodded and rose. “That’s all I ask,” he said as he disappeared into the hall.
As the door closed behind the old doctor, Jeff leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. All he’d ever dreamed of in the way of a career in biological research now sat within his reach. He toyed with the edge of the telegram and tried to decide what to do.
God had given him the ability to learn medicine and the opportunity to do something valuable for mankind with that knowledge. On the other hand, He had also given him a shot at doing something for the people of Nouvelle parish. Without Doc, and in the absence of any new physician who might be found, they would be forced to take the long ride upstream to New Iberia for medical care.
More important, to stay would be to press his case with Angeline. Until she walked down the aisle with the fisherman, God could still intervene.
The offer to stay was tempting. But was it what God wanted?
Jeff rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. Nothing would be gained by hashing the problem over in his mind.
Seeking asylum in his favorite place, he strolled into Pop’s office and sat in the big leather chair. Perhaps something in here would give him the guidance on what to do about his dilemma.
Absently, he opened first one drawer and then another until a glint of gold caught his eye. His mother’s wedding ring.
Jeff picked up the delicate band and weighed it in his palm. Had it always been in the desk? He couldn’t remember seeing it before now, and he must have gone through the contents of these drawers a half dozen times in his quest to clear the office of Pop’s things.
Jeff leaned back in the chair and clutched the ring to his chest. Lord, is this some sort of message from You?
Tucking the ring into his vest pocket along with his watch, Jeff headed toward the garage and the Model A. If he hurried, he might be engaged by sunset.
Twenty
Angeline stood along the banks of the bayou, wondering if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. All day she’d prayed and planned, and now, with just a few minutes to go, she began to think better of the whole thing.
What did she think would come of arranging a private meeting with Nicolas Arceneaux just to see if she could really forget her feelings for Jefferson and fall in love with him? Did she actually believe it mattered what her feelings were for him?
Papa declared she would marry that man, and Papa’s word was his bond. Nothing, short of the Lord, would keep the wedding from happening.
And that is why she had to see Nicolas today.
Maybe God would speak to her in the quiet of her visit with Nicolas. Maybe He would gift her with the ability to love the man. Or maybe He would guide her once and for all in the way He wanted her to go. Dare she hope it would not be with Nicolas Arceneaux?
A rustling on the trail ahead told her someone was coming. Ernest appeared in the path with Nicolas a step behind.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Angie, but if Papa finds out I left my work to fetch Nicolas, he’ll have my hide,” Ernest said.
She gave her brother a thankful smile. “He won’t find out.”
“I’ll be just over there.” Ernest pointed to Papa’s workshop in the distance. “Holler if you need me, Angie.”
“I will.” She offered Nicolas a shy smile. “Thank you for coming to see me, Nicolas. I know it was difficult to leave your work today, and I appreciate that you did.”
Nicolas gave her a perplexed look. “I will say I was a little surprised when Ernest came to fetch me this morning and said it was an emergency. I thought something bad had happened.”
She shook her head. “No, and I’m sorry you were alarmed. I just needed to talk to you.” Frustration caused her to pause. “Actually, that’s not exactly right.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. This wasn’t turning out at all like she planned.
Angeline looked up into the eyes of the fisherman and repeated the prayer she’d been praying for the past week. Father, if Nicolas is the man You intend for me to marry, give me the heart to love him. Guide me and allow me to be the wife he needs me to be. Most of all, if he’s not the one, please let me know.
“Angeline, I’m confused,” Nicolas said. “Why am I here?”
“For this.”
With that she boldly wrapped her arms around him and kissed him soundly.
❧
Jeff pulled the motorcar to a halt outside the Breaux home and scanned the property to see if Angeline might be outside. When he didn’t see her, he headed for the front door, only to be met by Mathilde.
“Welcome, Jefferson,” she said. “What brings you here this afternoon?”
“Actually I came to see Angeline. Is she here?”
“Doctor Jeff!” Amalie came bounding across the room and launched herself toward him, landing in his arms just as he knelt down. “I missed you.”
The collision bowled him over, and he landed on his rear. His watch flew out of his pocket and hung by its chain from a vest button.
“I missed you too,” he said when he recovered and tuc
ked the timepiece back inside. “You look like you’re feeling better than ever.”
“Oh, she’s perfectly well,” Mathilde said. “Unless you’re depending on her to do her chores. Then she suddenly feels ill and can’t move a muscle.”
Jeff rose to a sitting position. “Is that true, Amalie?”
Amalie shook her head and leaned close. “No, but if it was, you wouldn’t tell Mathilde, would you?”
“I think she already knows,” Jeff whispered, giving the older Breaux sister a conspiratorial wink before he turned his attention back to Amalie. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where Angeline is, would you?”
“I do, but I’m not supposed to tell.” She lowered her voice a notch. “If Papa finds out, he’ll have Ernest’s hide. That’s what he told Angie before he left.”
Mathilde’s frown told Jeff she had no idea what Amalie meant. “Are you making up stories?”
Amalie stuck out her lower lip. “No, I’m not making up stories. I was supposed to be taking a nap, except I was sitting by the window playing with Ima Jane. . . .” She turned to Jeff. “That’s my doll. Anyway, I was playing with Ima Jane and I saw Ernest and Angie standing over by Papa’s shed, and that’s what Ernest told her before he left in Papa’s old pirogue.”
“So where is Angie now?” Mathilde asked.
“I told you I’m not supposed to tell.”
Jeff leaned toward Amalie and lowered his voice. “If you tell me where Angie is, I’ll see if I can’t get Mathilde to ease up on your chores for the rest of the day. What do you say?” He looked up at Mathilde for confirmation, then returned his gaze to Amalie. “Where’s your big sister?”
Amalie seemed to consider the proposition a moment. When her smile dawned bright and wide, Jeff knew he’d won.
“C’mon, I’ll take you there,” she said as she tugged on his hand.
Together they rose and walked out onto the porch. Amalie began to skip across the lawn until she reached the path leading to the bayou. Jeff stopped short and knelt down to get on eye level with Amalie.
“I need to speak to your sister alone. Is that all right with you?”
Slowly she nodded. “I guess so. Will you come see me before you go home?”
“Sure,” he said as he patted her on the head and sent her on her way back to the house.
Jeff rose and turned to face the path that led to Angeline. “Lord, if this is meant to be, show me in a way that is clear and obvious. If it’s not, make that plain too. Either way, I’ll bow to Your desires,” he whispered as he stepped onto the path.
With the ring snug in his pocket, Jeff set off toward the bayou. In a few minutes he would see Angeline. What would he say?
Perhaps he should have planned this better. Shouldn’t a gentleman make some sort of presentation before actually making the proposal? Times like now, when manly advice was at a premium, he missed Pop the most. Yes, Pop would have known exactly what to say.
“Will you marry me, Angeline?”
He shook his head. Too abrupt.
“Angeline, Ma Chere, will you marry me and make me the happiest man on earth?”
No. Too desperate.
Flowers. He should at least have flowers to present. Jeff cast about for something in bloom and found only a smattering of pink buttercups hidden beneath the fronds of a palmetto.
Gathering up a handful, he shook the dirt off the roots and straightened his vest and jacket. Tomorrow he would bring her a proper bouquet, but for now these would have to do.
Now, back to the proposal. When nothing brilliant dawned on him, he decided to depend on the Lord.
“All right, Father, I’m leaving the words up to You,” he said as he pushed past a low-lying limb and stepped into the clearing.
What he saw froze the blood in his veins. He jumped back into the thicket and peered between the greenery to be sure of what he had actually seen.
Standing a few yards away was Angeline Breaux, seemingly deep in conversation with Nicolas Arceneaux. And then she kissed him.
❧
Angeline pulled away from Nicolas’s embrace and touched her finger to her lips.
Nothing.
She shook her head. Why did she feel nothing? When Jefferson kissed her, she felt fireworks, shooting stars, all at once.
Maybe she should try again.
Braving a glance up at Nicolas, she saw he too looked perplexed. He leaned against the cypress tree and folded his arms over his chest.
“Why did you do that, Angeline?”
“I had to know,” she said softly.
“Know?” Nicolas shifted positions. “What did you have to know?”
Angeline sank to the ground and patted the spot beside her. “Would you sit with me a minute?”
Still wearing his confused look, Nicolas complied. Angeline cast a glance over her shoulder and caught Ernest staring in their direction. When she waved, he went back to chopping wood.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Nicolas.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, praying God would supply her with the right words.
“You still love that doctor, and that kiss told you that you never will feel that way about me.”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“You do?” She regarded him with surprise. “How so?”
A look of sadness came over his handsome features. “Because as beautiful and kind and sweet as you are, I don’t love you either, Angeline. As I told you before, there’s someone else who will always hold my heart.”
Relief washed over her. “Then it’s settled. We can’t possibly marry.”
She stood to go and he drew her back down beside him. “It’s not settled,” he said. “My word is my bond, Angeline. I made a deal with your father and I intend to keep it.”
Her heart sank. “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” She peered up at him through eyes heavy with unshed tears. “Forgive me for trying to shirk my responsibilities. I was wrong.”
Nicolas covered her hand with his. “We’ll make the best of this, you and I. In time we’ll get used to the arrangement. Who knows, maybe even fall in love someday, eh?”
“Yes.” Angeline tried to smile. “I suppose after bringing you all this way, the least I can do is ask you to supper.”
“Are you cooking?”
When she nodded, he broke into a grin. “One thing I won’t have to get used to is your cooking, Angeline.”
He stood and offered her a hand to pull her to her feet. Angeline saw Ernest drop his ax and head toward them.
“What will we tell Papa?” she asked.
Nicolas shrugged and stepped over a bunch of buttercups someone left in the path. “We’ll tell him I had an urge to visit my intended.”
Intended. She tried not to cringe as she gathered the still fresh blossoms in her hand and brought them home to place in water.
Staring at the pink flowers, she realized she must do something. Yes, she decided, she would speak to Papa and reason with him. It had to work—it just had to.
Angeline planned her speech as she walked alongside Nicolas to the house. Tonight, after Nicolas was settled upstairs with the boys and Mama busied herself with putting the babies to sleep, she would corner Papa and try to reason with him. The prospect of speaking to her intimidating father on this subject frightened her so badly she could hardly swallow.
The evening dragged on until Angeline thought the men would never stop talking about politics, the weather, and fishing. When the time finally came and she found herself alone with Papa, however, the speech she’d practiced in her mind went out the window.
Her father sat at the kitchen table, his spectacles on the end of his nose and his Bible spread out before him. Lips moving as he read, his dark eyes scanned the twenty-fifth chapter of the Psalms while his index finger kept his place.
Instead of rational words, she began by pleading. “Papa, please don’t make me marry Nicolas. I don’t
love him,” she blurted out.
Papa looked up at her over the top of his spectacles, then slowly took them off and placed them on the open Bible. “What did you say?”
Angeline sank down beside him and placed her hand on his knee. “Papa, Nicolas is a fine man, but I don’t love him. I can’t marry him.”
“You can and you will, Angie.” His words were hard, but the look in his eyes was soft. “Baby Girl, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.”
“What do you mean? I’m a big help to Mama, and with another baby on the way, she’s going to need even more things done. Why, I could take over for all her chores, even the garden, and she wouldn’t have to do a thing.” She paused to take a breath. “I’ll earn my keep, Papa, I promise.”
Papa looked away, and when his gaze returned to her, there were tears in his eyes. He placed his hand on her head and smoothed back her hair. In the lamplight, she thought she saw his lip tremble.
“Angie, you don’t have to talk me into keeping you close to home. If I could, I’d keep every one of my girls right here under my roof until I go meet Jesus, my boys too.”
“Is she complaining about marrying Nicolas again?”
Angeline looked up to see Mathilde standing silhouetted in the doorway. “Really, Angie, I don’t see what you have to nag about. The man’s quite a catch.”
Papa slammed his fist on the table. “There, you see. Your sister understands. Why don’t you?”
“Because I don’t love him,” she said as tears began to fall in earnest. She turned to glare at Mathilde. “Please, Papa, if Mathilde thinks Nicolas is such a catch, let her marry him. Sell her off like a load of furs instead of me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Papa said as he jammed his spectacles back onto his face. “You’re the eldest, the plans are made, and that’s final. Come June tenth, you’ll marry Nicolas Arceneaux and that’s final.”
Angeline fled to her darkened room and flung herself on the bed. She should have known the cause was a hopeless one. Obviously, God intended for her to forget she ever knew Jefferson Villare. Well, He would just have to show her how because she certainly had no idea how to begin.
Bayou Fever Page 14
