“Is it now?” Papa crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Then why don’t you just give us the latest report?”
“Actually, I’ve been so busy helping Doc, what with the influenza outbreak, that I secured permission for another month’s vacation.” He locked gazes with Angeline. “I leave for my research position in New York on June tenth.”
June 10. The day will be here before we know it, Lord. Work fast, please.
Papa took a step back, a stricken expression on his face. “I reckon I ought to thank you for what you did for my little girl. You saved her life, and for that, her mama and me will always be in your debt.”
“Actually, it was Angeline who saved her life.”
Papa whirled around to face her. “What?”
“She’s quite the nurse, Mr. Breaux.” He smiled in her direction. “If she hadn’t kept the chest percussion up, your daughter would never have withstood the fever when it spiked. I just happened to show up at the right time with the car.”
Papa looked at her with admiration she did not feel she deserved. “But I fell asleep,” she said. “She almost died because of me.”
“That’s not true, Angeline,” Jefferson replied. “Because of the treatments you gave her during the night, her lungs were almost clear at the time the fever hit her the hardest. One condition had nothing to do with the other. There was nothing you could have done, even if you had been awake.”
Relief washed over her. “Really?”
“Really.”
That one word held more comfort than Angeline thought possible. All this time, she had worried that her lapse in nursing skills, and the weak moment when she closed her eyes, had nearly cost her sister her life.
“Theo, come see your baby girl,” Mama called. “She’s awake and asking for her daddy.”
Papa stuck his hand out and shook Jefferson’s. “I still want to thank you for what you did.”
“It was my privilege, Sir,” Jefferson said.
Angeline watched as the two men who mattered most in her life embraced. Only God could have brought together these most unlikely of allies.
“You’re welcome back here anytime, Villare,” Papa said in an unsteady voice as he hurried toward the back bedroom. “There’s my little girl,” Angeline heard him call as he disappeared inside and closed the door.
“I’ll walk you out,” Angeline said.
Together they strolled toward the motorcar. “How long before she’s completely well?” she asked when they reached the vehicle.
Jefferson tossed his medical bag on the seat and turned to face her. “Could be days, could be weeks. It’s in God’s hands now.”
“But she’s going to be fine, right?”
He nodded. “Of course she is. She’s got the best nurse around.” Pausing, he leaned against the car door and crossed his arms over his chest. “Still, I may have to come and supervise her care. Just to be sure.”
“I would welcome that, Dr. Villare.”
What was wrong with her? She was practically married off to Nicolas Arceneaux, and yet here she stood out in broad daylight, flirting like a schoolgirl with Jefferson Villare.
She should stop this nonsense right now; stop believing that God just might make a way for her to have a future with the young doctor instead of the fisherman. If God put the dream in her heart, surely He would make it come true.
“Maybe we can go fishing while I’m here. We haven’t done that in a long time. If Amalie’s up to it, she can come along.”
The statement took her aback. Fishing with Jefferson sounded fine, indeed.
Angeline met his gaze and smiled. “I would like that very much, and I know my sister would too.” When he left, the smile remained.
❧
“Who’s ready for some fishing?”
Jefferson burst through the door with a smile on his face and a collection of cane poles in his hand. “What’s the matter? Am I early?”
Amalie giggled and raced for the door. “Let’s go, Angie,” she called as she ran past Jefferson to head outside.
He’d worn his fishing clothes this time instead of his usual dapper suit. Funny, how the casual trousers and shirt put her in mind of the young man he had been rather than the grown man he was.
“I see she’s recovering nicely,” Jefferson said. “No more symptoms?”
“None. That’s four days with no fever or cough.” She smiled and picked up the basket holding the lunch Mama had packed for them. “And as you can see, her strength has returned.”
Jefferson turned to look over his shoulder at the little girl now skipping in circles on the front lawn. “I see that,” he said. “In fact, I’m wondering if they gave her too much good care over at the hospital. Maybe you should complain.”
Angeline laughed and followed him out the door. As they walked toward the bayou, Amalie lit out ahead of them. By the time they reached a good spot for fishing, she had doubled back and stood in their path.
“You’re slow,” she said. “Come on!”
Looping the handle of the basket over a low-hanging cypress limb, Angeline settled in a shady spot beside the bayou and watched as Amalie danced in circles. “See, Angie, I’m a princess. A beautiful dancing princess.”
“Yes indeed, you are,” Angeline said. “But if you’re not careful, you’ll tire yourself out, and we’ll have to go home.”
She stopped twirling to put her hands on her hips. “Before I swim?”
Jefferson shook his head. “No swimming today, Young Lady. That would definitely be against doctor’s orders.”
Amalie frowned and sank down next to Angeline. “But I wanted to go swimming.”
“Hush,” she said. “Today you’re going to fish instead.”
“But fishing’s no fun.”
Jefferson leaned close. “That’s what I thought too until I learned to like it. After that, I always caught the biggest fish.”
Angeline laughed. “You did not. In fact, if I remember right, you could barely sit still long enough to catch any fish at all. Generally our fishing competition ended up being a kick-the-water contest instead.”
“That sounds like fun,” Amalie said. “How do you play kick-the-water, Dr. Jefferson?”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Angeline said. “Don’t show her, Jefferson. She’s just looking for an excuse to get wet.”
She caught the twinkle in his eyes before he spoke. “Sounds like the voice of experience.” He reached for the smallest cane pole and settled down beside Amalie. “Now, watch this.” He reached into the fishing creel, pulled out a small tin, and retrieved a red wiggler. Spearing it like a pro, he handed the pole to Amalie. “Now keep your worm in the water and see if the fish are hungry.”
“All right,” Amalie said as she wrapped her little hands around the end of the pole.
Jefferson nudged Angeline. “Want me to bait one for you?”
“I’ll just watch for now,” she said.
A few minutes later, the little girl had tired of the activity, leaving Jefferson to take over her pole. While Amalie chased a butterfly, Angeline chased memories.
❧
How many times had the two of them made the trip down to the bayou, promising to bring home fish for dinner but returning with nothing but soggy clothing and an afternoon wasted on fun?
Oh, but those were the days.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Jefferson said.
For a moment, she considered not answering him, then she thought better of it. “I was just thinking about how much fun we used to have here.” She paused. “Before life made grown-ups of us.”
“I think about that a lot.” He stuck the end of the cane pole in the soft ground and leaned back on his elbows. “Thinking about you is what got me through the first year away from home.”
His statement took her by surprise. Rather than respond, she tried to hide her feelings by pretending to study the dark water of the bayou as it flowed past.
“Did you ever think about
me, Angeline?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him roll over on his side to face her, cradling his head in his hand. “I mean, did you miss me at all?”
“Miss you?” Angeline shook her head. “That’s all I did,” she whispered. “I missed you until I thought I would never get over it.”
“Did you?” He paused. “Get over it, I mean?”
“No.” Angeline met his gaze. “Every day I expected I would look up from my chores and there you would be, standing on the other side of the bayou, looking like you’d never left.”
“And then one day, I was.”
She nodded.
“But I was too late.”
The truth of that statement stung. Had he arrived even a week before, maybe Papa wouldn’t have made plans to marry her off to Nicolas Arceneaux.
No, she couldn’t be sure of that. Jefferson’s return to Bayou Nouvelle could have given Papa enough reason to marry her off, no matter when it happened.
“I don’t think you were too late, Jefferson,” she said slowly. “I prefer to think that God just had other plans for us.”
“Is that what you think?”
His dark eyes bore into her soul and she longed to tell him how she really felt, how she would leave the bayou with him tomorrow if God would only release her to do that. Instead, she held her peace and said, “Yes, it is.”
“Are you set on marrying this Arceneaux fellow, then? Do you think that’s what God plans for you to do?”
“I think that’s what Papa plans for me to do,” she said, allowing him to gather what he would from her statement. There was no sense in revealing the details of the humiliating barter deal she’d been a part of. What good would come of him knowing she’d been traded like a pile of furs to the fisherman?
Jefferson leaned toward her. “Do you love him?”
Again, the truth served no purpose, so she decided to say nothing.
Abruptly Jefferson climbed to his feet and reached for her hand. Angeline allowed him to pull her up into a standing position.
“Answer me this, and I will never ask again,” he said as he held her hand against his chest. “Is it Arceneaux you love, or could it be me?”
Nineteen
Angeline looked away, focusing on her little sister, who skipped happily in circles in the distance. “Don’t ask me to answer that.”
“I think you just did.” With that Jefferson swept her into an embrace. “Oh, Ma Chere, we are a pair, aren’t we?”
It felt so right to be held in his arms, but she knew it was so wrong. Amalie might notice them and misinterpret their embrace. Or worse, she could see it and understand completely.
Such were the ways of the little ones. They seemed to know things even the grown-ups missed. Perhaps Amalie already knew of her feelings for Jefferson. She certainly went out of her way to mention the man whenever she could. And when Nicolas Arceneaux’s name came up, Amalie was the first to offer a frown.
Reluctantly, she pulled away. “God wants me here at Bayou Nouvelle, and He wants you up North. We weren’t meant to be, so what does it matter?”
Jefferson took a step toward her, then seemed to think better of it and backed away to place his hands on his hips. “Remember when you asked me if I ever thought I might have misunderstood what God had planned for my life?”
Angeline nodded.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He looked past her to the bayou and the cane pole still stuck in the dirt. “Have you ever wondered that?”
Again, she nodded. “Sure.”
“How do you know He didn’t intend us to be together?”
“I don’t,” she whispered.
“Then how can you dismiss the possibility?” He caught her into another embrace, and this time he added a kiss on the forehead and another, softer one on the lips. “At least you can acknowledge your feelings for me, can’t you?”
No, she meant to say. It came out “Yes” instead.
“Angie. Are you and Dr. Jefferson done with your fishing?”
The sound of her sister’s voice broke the moment and the embrace. Angeline stepped away and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Maybe we’re finished with the fishing,” Jefferson said softly, “but we’re not finished with this conversation.” He reached past her for the picnic basket. “And I don’t think God’s finished with us either.”
Angeline continued to think about this statement long after the day had ended. As she went through the motions of completing her household chores and looking after Amalie and the little ones each day, she often revisited the moment on the banks of the Bayou Nouvelle. Someday soon, she would have to put the memory behind her and be a good and faithful wife to Nicolas Arceneaux, but for now she allowed thoughts of Jefferson to entertain her as she hung the freshly washed sheets on the clothesline.
These thoughts fled with the arrival of Reverend Dautrive. “Wonderful news, Angeline,” he cried as he unfolded his large frame from the motorcar.
Angeline snapped a clothespin on the end of the last wet sheet and picked up the empty basket. “Hello, Reverend,” she called.
“Who’s here?” Mama said from inside the house. When she emerged on the porch, she waved. “Hello there, Reverend. What a pleasure to see you today.”
The reverend tipped his hat and lumbered toward Mama. “The pleasure is mine, Clothilde. I thought I would stop by and deliver the good news to you ladies personally.”
“Good news?” Mama looked toward Angeline, who shrugged.
“There’s an opening on the church calendar,” he said with a grin. “I can marry Angeline and the Arceneaux boy on. . .” He paused to open his notebook and flip through the pages. “Yes, here we go, June tenth.”
June 10. Oh no, not the day Jefferson is set to leave. But that’s just a few weeks away.
“That’s fine, Reverend,” Mama said, ushering him toward the porch. “I’ll give Theo the good news when he gets home, and I’ll send Ernest down to speak to Nicolas in the morning. Now, can I offer you a glass of sweet tea?”
Angeline dropped the laundry basket and sank to her knees. Father, if ever there was a time to show Your sovereign will, it is now. Please do something, and quick.
❧
Jeff had to do something and quick. With June 10 looming large on the desk calendar in Pop’s office, he had little time to decide what God wanted him to do. Until his return to Latanier, he’d always been so certain of what he was to make of his life. Now the only certainty in his life was that he was uncertain about everything.
Everything except Angeline Breaux, of course. He knew exactly how he felt about her.
He loved her. That was the problem.
The doorbell shattered his thoughts. Thankful for the interruption, he rose to answer the door before Mrs. Mike could get to it.
“Good to see you, Doc. Come in.” He swung the door open wide and gestured for the old man to come inside. “What a pleasant surprise. I thought you were much too busy for house calls these days.”
Doc chuckled and removed his hat, depositing it and his medical bag on the credenza. “I am busy, that’s true.”
“How about a cup of coffee?”
“And I’ve got a pie fresh from the oven,” Mrs. Mike called from the kitchen.
“I’d be delighted,” Doc said.
Jeff led the way to the kitchen. “Any new cases of influenza?” he asked over his shoulder.
“One,” Doc said as he fell in step behind Jeff. “A young man down at the sawmill fell sick yesterday afternoon. Foreman thought it might be heat exhaustion, but one look at him and I knew that wasn’t the trouble.” He sank onto the chair and leaned his elbows on the table. “I sure hope he’s the last one for awhile, but you never know.”
“At least we can be thankful the Lord didn’t take a single soul this time around,” Mrs. Mike said as she placed dessert plates overflowing with peach pie in front of the men. “Back in 1918 we weren’t as blessed.” She touched Jeff’s shoulder. “Go
d rest your dear departed mother’s soul.”
He nodded and attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. Finding a cure for the disease that took his mother had consumed his life. Hearing this reminder made him remember how very much he wanted to do that.
He wanted.
Jeff stifled a groan. Had he been so wrapped up in what he wanted that he had decided that’s what God wanted too?
“Amen to that, Mrs. Mike,” Doc said. “You know, the one thing I don’t think I’ll ever get used to is losing a patient.” He stabbed at the pie with his fork. “Oh, I know there’s a much better place they’re headed for, but it just seems like the Lord put me here to keep those folks around as long as I can and not to usher them to Jesus.”
Mrs. Mike filled Doc’s coffee cup with steaming chicory coffee, then poured some for Jeff. “I agree, Doc.” She deposited the coffeepot on the table between them along with the sugar bowl and shrugged. “But you can’t argue with the Lord’s timing. Sometimes He says to stay, and sometimes He says to go.”
Those words, simple and yet complex, struck Jeff right to the heart. Yes, sometimes He did.
At that moment, over pie and coffee, Jeff felt God was telling him to stay in Latanier. He watched the housekeeper leave the kitchen with a new respect. Who knew Mrs. Mike was such a philosopher?
“Oh, my goodness, I almost forgot.” Doc fished a folded paper from his vest pocket. “This is for you, Jeff. I told Amos down at the telegram office I would deliver it and save him a trip.”
Jeff unfolded the telegram and read the words. It was from Columbia University.
Huge breakthrough in pneumococcus research days away. Need full team in place immediately to process data and analyze results. June 10 no longer acceptable arrival date. Come at once.
“Bad news?” Doc asked.
Stunned, Jeff dropped the paper and watched it float to the floor. Doc picked it up and read it.
“Well, well, this is good news.” He clapped a hand on Jeff’s back. “Congratulations, My Boy. Looks like you’re about to make history. Your father would be so proud.”
“Right,” he managed to say through the cotton filling his throat.
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