Bayou Fever

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  Angeline rose and stretched the kinks out of her spine. Trudging over to the washbasin, she took a clean folded towel and dampened it. The little girl’s eyes opened when the towel touched her skin but soon closed again.

  She looked much better this morning, and the color had begun to return to her skin. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told Angeline another hour stood between her and the time for a treatment.

  Outside she heard the sound of Papa and Ernest at work on their chores, and she could smell bacon frying in the summer kitchen. Her stomach protested its emptiness, but her legs refused to carry her any farther than the empty bed. With a sigh, she placed her head on the pillow and took one last look at Amalie.

  “I’ll just close my eyes for a minute,” she whispered. “If you need me, you call me, Amalie.”

  “I will, Angie,” she thought she heard her sister say.

  The next voice she noticed belonged to Jefferson. “Hush now, we don’t want to wake her,” he said.

  “The poor girl, she’s exhausted,” she heard Papa say.

  “Tried to save her on her own,” Ernest added.

  When she opened her eyes, none of them were there. Angeline sat up with a start and almost knocked the clock off the nightstand reaching for it. Four hours had passed since the moment she’d placed her head on the pillow.

  “Oh no, it’s almost noon and I’ve missed her treatment!” she said as she threw back the blanket and climbed over to Amalie’s bed.

  It was empty.

  Seventeen

  Jeff stood over the sleeping form of Amalie Breaux and gave thanks to God that he had obeyed the nudging in his spirit that morning. While he had meant to spend the day preparing to leave, he’d felt the strongest urge to head for the Breaux home.

  He’d known he would end up there before nightfall, both on the obvious premise of checking on Amalie and the more secret one of seeing Angeline, but he hadn’t realized he would be led there to save the little girl’s life. How like God that He would arrange things in such a way.

  When he arrived, Amalie’s fever was at a dangerous level. Thanks to Angeline and the breathing treatments, the girl’s lungs were clear. This alone had kept her alive until help arrived. Now that she’d received treatment to combat the infection, her vitals were already looking better. When she awakened and asked about Angeline, Jeff knew she was on the mend.

  His thoughts turned from the little girl in the bed to Angeline. She’d been exhausted, too tired even to remember that he’d tried to awaken her.

  “Where is she?”

  Jeff whirled around to see Angeline racing down the aisle of the children’s ward. “Over here,” he called.

  She caught his arm and peered down at her sister, her breath coming in ragged spurts. “How is Amalie?”

  “Calm down, Angeline. Your sister’s resting comfortably now.”

  “What happened? All Ernest would tell me is that you came and took her to the hospital. I saw Papa and Mama in the waiting room, and they couldn’t tell me anything either. She almost died because of me, and I intend to have some answers.”

  Fear shone in her wide brown eyes, and it took all the control Jefferson had not to gather her into his arms and kiss the emotion away. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I came out to see about Amalie this morning and found her condition had worsened,” he said. “Her fever had spiked too high for home treatment, so I brought her here.”

  Alarm seemed to turn to anger as Angeline’s fingers clenched into fists. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  Amalie began to stir, so Jeff led Angeline away from the bed toward the bank of windows. “I tried, Angeline. You were exhausted.” He gave her what he hoped would be a stern look. “The last thing your mother needs to worry about is another sick child, namely you. Since you elected not to heed your need for sleep, I made the decision for you.”

  “But how dare you bring her here to the hospital?” She lowered her voice a notch. “You know Papa can’t afford this.”

  “It’s all been taken care of.”

  Angeline whirled around to see Doc Broussard standing a few feet away. “That is, if you agree to the terms,” he added with a wink.

  “Terms?” She glanced over her shoulder at Jeff, then returned her gaze to the elderly doctor. “What terms?”

  Doc smiled and linked arms with Angeline, leading her past Jeff toward Amalie. Jeff fell in step behind them.

  “Well,” Doc said, “you know back in 1925, the good people on the hospital board saw fit to name this children’s ward after my dear departed wife, God rest her soul.”

  She nodded.

  The old doctor chuckled. “As such, I have a little bit of pull around here.” He paused to release Angeline’s arm. “So in the Acadian way, I’d like to make a deal, eh? To maybe barter something in return for something else—in this case your sister’s hospital bill for something much more valuable that you can give to me.”

  When Angeline gave him a perplexed look, he continued. “You know how much I love that shrimp gumbo of yours, don’t you?”

  A smile dawned on Angeline’s face. “Yes, I do,” she said softly.

  “Then would you consider it a fair trade if I took payment in gumbo? Say one pot of gumbo for each day your sister spends in this fine establishment?” Doc offered a mock frown. “Now I would expect we make this all legal-like. You know, draw out the terms and have both parties sign them. I’m thinking one pot every other Tuesday until the debt is satisfied would do the trick. How does that suit you?”

  From where he stood, Jeff could see tears collect in Angeline’s eyes. “That would suit me just fine, Sir,” she said in a trembling voice.

  Doc held out his hand to shake Angeline’s. “Good, it’s a deal.” Abruptly he slapped his forehead. “Wait,” he said. “We need a witness.” He turned to Jeff. “Come on over here and witness this, would you, Dr. Villare? I wouldn’t want this young lady to skip town until her debt is paid.”

  Jeff closed the distance between them and smiled. “I’d be delighted,” he said.

  As soon as the words fell from his lips, he wanted to reel them back in. How could he promise to stick around and be sure Angeline brought gumbo to Doc when he planned to be on the train to New York in eleven days?

  Surely Doc knew that. Jeff cast a sideways glance at the old man and frowned. The grin on the crafty physician’s face told Jeff that Doc knew exactly what he was doing.

  No matter. It was all in fun anyway. Angeline would make a few pots of gumbo, and Doc would beg off the rest of the debt in some polite but subtle way. By then, he would be long gone.

  “Jefferson,” Angeline said, “I would like to stay with her if I may.” She pointed to a pair of chairs next to the ward door. “All I need is one of those to sit in, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Jeff said. “Generally the rules are pretty strict about visitors.”

  He cringed as Angeline’s dark brown eyes flashed a pleading glance. “I’m not a visitor. I’m her sister.”

  He looked to Doc for help. “Still, I don’t think it would be allowed, would it, Doc?”

  She turned to Doc and touched his sleeve with her fingertips. “Jeff taught me how to do chest percussion, and he says I’m a very good nurse. I could be of help to the staff.”

  The old doctor smiled. “Is this true, Dr. Villare?”

  Ten minutes later, after securing permission, Angeline sat in a soft chair next to Amalie’s bed. “Promise me you’ll stay out of the nurse’s way.” Doc motioned to the ward nurse, a friendly woman of middle age, with mock fear. “She’s a tyrant, so mind your manners.”

  “I heard that, Doctor,” the nurse called.

  “I’ll come back to check on the two of you in the morning,” Jeff said as he gave Angeline a quick embrace and followed Doc out of the ward.

  Instead of waiting until morning, however, he returned to the ward with a hamper of Mrs. Mike’s fried
chicken and buttermilk biscuits and a tin of fresh field peas in the front seat of the Model A. Anticipation rode high in his mind as he took the stairs two at a time and emerged at the entrance to the Bessie Landry Broussard Memorial Children’s Ward.

  As he pushed open the big door, he heard laughter inside. What he saw astounded him. Rows of children sat in rapt attention, some in wheelchairs and some propped up in beds, as Angeline told the story of a little alligator named T-Boy and his friend the red snapper. Amalie managed a smile in his direction. The girl looked pale but seemed much improved.

  Sinking to his knees behind a little girl in a wheelchair, Jeff held his finger to his lips to tell Amalie he wished to remain hidden. When the little girl nodded and smiled, Jeff turned his attention back to watch Angeline perform each of the voices and act out parts with hand motions.

  He looked around at the smiling faces of children who, on every other occasion, wore their illness with stoic silence. Even the ward nurse seemed to be caught up in the tale. When the end came and the unlikely pair lived happily ever after, the storyteller received a hearty round of applause.

  Jeff rose to clap the loudest. “Bravo,” he called.

  Angeline placed her hand over her mouth in surprise. “Jefferson, I didn’t know you were here,” she said. “How much did you hear?”

  “Actually, I think I missed the beginning of the story.” He linked arms with Angeline. “Would you kids mind if I borrowed Miss Breaux so she could fill me in on what caused T-Boy and Redfish to go swimming in the first place?”

  A chorus of giggles followed them out into the hall and chased them downstairs. When he walked with her into the evening twilight and led her to the Model A, she stopped short and pulled out of his grasp.

  “Where do you think we’re going?” Her frown did nothing to detract from her beauty. “I’m not leaving her, so if you think you’re taking me home, you’re mistaken.”

  Jeff opened the car door and removed the hamper with a flourish. “Relax, Ma Chere,” he said. “I bring greetings from Mrs. Mike. Come on. I know just the place to enjoy this bounteous feast.”

  Her smile restored, Angeline fell in step beside him. “You’re the best, Jefferson.”

  “No, you are. I mean, the way you told that story, it was incredible.” He glanced in her direction. “As long as I’ve been visiting the ward, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those kids smile.”

  She looked away, clearly embarrassed. “It was nothing.”

  “Mais non, Ma Chere,” Jeff said. “It was definitely something.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Let’s go that way.”

  Together, they took the brick walkway toward Community Park. In the center of the park, the white wooden gazebo stood like a beacon, lit by a single streetlight. The night was warm, but not oppressively so, and the breeze smelled fresh with the promise of rain. The ring around the moon confirmed the impending shower.

  In a few weeks, band concerts would fill the park with happy sounds, but tonight the music came from the crickets. It was a symphony that strangely suited Jeff tonight, and as he filled his plate with Mrs. Mike’s delicacies, he felt nothing but peace.

  Tomorrow, he would think about leaving, about his career, and about what God intended for him. Maybe he would even think about Angeline and the fact that she’d been promised to another. She hadn’t actually come out and admitted it to him, but the look on her face when he asked her told the tale. Yes, he just might think about that tomorrow.

  Tonight, though, his only worry was saving room for peach pie. At least he thought that was his only concern until Angeline surprised him with a question.

  “Jefferson, have you ever thought that maybe you misunderstood what God wanted you to do with your life?” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a blue-checked napkin, then allowed the folded cloth to drop into her lap. “I mean, have you ever made up your mind that the Lord had something for you, only to find out He didn’t want that for you at all?”

  Jeff stalled for time by pretending to chew his food a bit longer than necessary. When he finally swallowed, he could tell by the look on Angeline’s face that his ploy had not worked.

  “Sure,” he said as he expelled a long breath. “I think that happens to everyone eventually. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, I don’t guess.”

  Her voice told him she had plenty of reasons, but logic warned him not to ask. Instead, he went back to his chicken leg, which no longer held any taste. Eventually he tossed it into the woods and leaned back on his elbows.

  While they ate, the sky had faded from blue to purple and finally to black. Now tiny stars danced at the edge of the streetlight’s glow.

  “You’re marrying Nicolas Arceneaux, aren’t you?” he said, surprising himself with his boldness.

  Silence fell between them for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Angeline spoke. “Yes. In ten days.”

  “Do you love him?” Where had that come from?

  “Sa fait pas rien,” she whispered.

  Jeff leaned forward to place his hands on her shoulders. “It does matter, Angeline.”

  “We should go,” she said softly. “Amalie will be wondering where I am.”

  At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and tell her she could marry him instead of the big fisherman. Instead, he released her and nodded, packing up the hamper without comment.

  If she wants to marry another, who am I to stop her? I’ve done her a favor in not pressing my case with her.

  But all the way back to the hospital’s front entrance, where he allowed her to slip back inside with only the blandest of parting words, he had the awful suspicion that he’d done neither of them any favors.

  Eighteen

  Nine days later, Amalie went home in Jefferson’s motorcar with Angeline huddled next to her. She’d barely left the little girl’s side, leaving the hospital only to accompany Mrs. Mike back to the Villare house for a hot meal and a change of clothes.

  Jeff continued his habit of stopping by to check on Amalie, but he never took Angeline to the park for another picnic. When Mrs. Mike started coming by in the evenings, she saw even less of Jefferson.

  It was as if their evening in the park had been a good-bye dinner between friends. Everything else seemed to take place between strangers.

  The third day of Amalie’s stay, Mama declared the wedding must be postponed. She could not plan a marriage ceremony for one of her girls while another of them was ill, and Reverend Dautrive agreed. Eventually Mama convinced Papa, and the date of the nuptials was erased from the church calendar. The date would be rescheduled soon, Mama promised. In the meantime, all her efforts had to go toward restoring Amalie to perfect health.

  Angeline smiled as she recalled the conversation, remembering the twinkle in Mama’s eyes when she spoke to Papa. Poor Papa never knew what hit him when Mama went to work on changing his mind. He always thought it was his idea, and Mama always let him.

  Yes, her mother was a wise woman.

  Thankfully, Angeline was spared having to speak to Nicolas during this time, although Mathilde gleefully informed her that her groom-to-be had taken the news of the postponement in stride. He hadn’t said much, according to her sister, but rather listened to Mama’s explanation without expression.

  The car pulled to a halt in front of the house, and Jefferson got out to fetch Amalie inside.

  “I don’t want to take a nap,” Amalie said as Jefferson placed her on her bed and pulled the covers over her legs.

  “What if I promise to tell you a new story about T-Boy once you take a short nap?” Angeline said. “How would that be?”

  When Amalie began to argue, Angeline held up her hand. “I’m not going to change my mind. Do you want me to call Mama or Mathilde in here?”

  “No,” she said as she stuck out her lip to pout.

  “Then to sleep with you. Besides, I need some time to think of a new story. You wouldn’t want me to tell just any old tale, would
you?”

  “No,” Amalie whispered as she settled her head on the pillows. “Can we still go swimming?”

  “No swimming, Little One,” Jefferson said, “but what if I come see you in a few days and take you fishing? How would that be?”

  “Fishing? Oh, I suppose so.”

  “Good, then mind your sister and get some rest.”

  “But I’m not tired,” she said as she pulled the blanket up to her chin. Exhausted from the trip, however, Amalie easily slipped into slumber within minutes.

  Jefferson took one last reading of the sleeping girl’s vitals, wrote them on his tablet, and then rose. Angeline followed him outside, listening while he fended off Mama’s questions.

  “I’m sure she’s perfectly fine,” he said for the second time. “She’s a little weak from all she’s been through, but she’s definitely on the mend.”

  “And I won’t catch nothing from her now?”

  “You’ll be fine,” he called as Mama brushed past him to disappear into the room where Amalie slept.

  “That’s probably the last we’ll see of her tonight,” Angeline said. “Papa says she’s driven herself to distraction worrying about Amalie and not being able to take care of her.”

  “What’s that you say about your papa?”

  Angeline looked up to see her father standing in the door. “I was just telling Jefferson how Mama’s missed being able to take care of Amalie.”

  Rather than comment, Papa crossed the room to stand toe-to-toe with Jefferson. “I heard tell down at the post office that you’re leaving tomorrow on the morning train.”

  The statement hit Angeline square in the heart. Jefferson had said nothing about leaving tomorrow. While she’d kept quiet about the postponement of her wedding, she’d secretly hoped that he knew and would soon step in to declare his feelings.

  What she would do if he did, she hadn’t decided. After all, there was the not-so-small matter of Papa and Nicolas Arceneaux.

  “What’s the matter, Boy? Cat got your tongue?”

  “No, Sir.” Jefferson squared his shoulders and stared down at Papa. “Actually, that’s old news.”