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“My husband always said patience is more than a virtue, it’s a necessity. But he was the most patient man to ever grace the earth.” She smiled fondly. “Which was good, because I’m not and I needed that counterbalance.”
“Then I say your husband deserves an award, because there aren’t too many patient people around.”
“He did deserve an award,” she said. “For a lot more than his patience. Landry was a good man. Maybe the best man I’ll ever know.”
She was speaking of him in the past tense, but Justin hated to ask, because if she was widowed, that was something he should have read on her application for working with his grandmother. Truth was, he’d hardly read past her name and credentials, he had been so impatient to hire someone. “And you’re not …” He glanced down at her wedding ring.
“Not moving on, like most people think I should. But I don’t have to. Landry can’t be replaced, and I don’t particularly want to.”
“How long?” he asked.
“A little over two years. Leonie was just a baby when he was diagnosed, and he didn’t get to stay with us very long after that. It was a pervasive pancreatic cancer. Took him almost before he knew he was sick. And you know what? If I’d known your grandmother then, I’d have been happy to give her herbal treatments a try, because I was desperate for anything. To try anything that might save him.”
“I’m so sorry,” Justin said.
“So am I, every day of my life. But thank you for the sentiment.”
“You’re raising your daughter by yourself?”
“Yes, but I have a supportive family—mother, father, six sisters. They’re so much help to me, and they love Leonie. You might have heard of my mother, actually. Zenobia.”
Justin blinked hard. “Seriously? Dr. Doucet is your mother? I’ve heard her lecture. She’s … extraordinary.”
“I think so. As a mother, anyway. As a doctor, I know she has her reputation, but I don’t pay much attention to that. So now, about Miss Willie …” Mellette pulled a small jar out of the pocket of her tan cargo pants and handed it to him. “I’d suggest you take this to her and try to make amends. I’m with you on getting her an anti-inflammatory prescription since I’ve been noting some gradual changes in her physicality, but in the year I’ve worked here she’s refused every time I’ve mentioned it. Maybe if you can get on her good side …”
He laughed out loud. “Do you really think that’s going to happen?”
“No. But I don’t believe in giving up.”
He tucked the jar of liniment into his pocket, then went back to the stove to stir the gumbo. “I’m serious about wanting you to add an extra day to your schedule here.”
“And I’m serious about not having the time. I work full time in emergency at New Hope, and between that and this, there’s no more time to give you. As it is, you’re getting my two days off from the hospital every week.”
“What about working here full time?” he asked, not sure where that had come from. Certainly, he could afford her. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Actually, I might.”
“You’d have to match, maybe even exceed my entire salary from the hospital, depending on how many hours you’d want me to work here, plus make up the difference for what you’re paying me when I’m here. And you’d have to cover my benefits—insurance, retirement plan, paid holiday. I’m a pretty well-paid specialist, Doctor, and I really don’t think I’m the solution for whatever you’re trying to accomplish.”
“What I’m trying to accomplish is to offer this community more medical care than they currently have. My grandmother loved these people, and taking care of them is what she would have wanted me to do.”
“Then stay and take care of them.”
“Not a chance.”
She smiled. “Eula said you were too good for the likes of Big Swamp. Although I think she secretly believed you’d come back to it someday.”
“I’m not too good for Big Swamp. I might have thought that at one time, but I grew up. But I do have a life that doesn’t include mosquitoes, muskrats and alligators, and it’s a life I enjoy.”
“I have a life I enjoy, too, and if I don’t get back to my patients, I’m not going to get home to that life tonight.” Mellette headed for the door, then spun around to face him before she went back to the room full of waiting patients. “Your grandma was proud of the work you do, Justin. My grandson, the real doctor, is what she always used to say. For what it’s worth, I don’t think she ever resented the fact that you chose the city over her.”
In the city … Yes, that was where he belonged. But lately he wasn’t sure why. In fact, the only thing he was sure of at the moment was that hiring Mellette had been one of the best things he’d done in a long, long time. Now all he had to do was convince her to take over here full time. Maybe then his guilty feelings would be assuaged. Or some of them.
The day went surprisingly fast, and while the patients weren’t flocking to Justin, the handful he did manage to see turned out to be a big help to her. So now Mellette could get out of Big Swamp before dark and make it back to Leonie before bedtime, for which she was eternally grateful. “You going to work again tomorrow?” she asked him, as she dipped a spoon into the gumbo that had been simmering for the better part of the day.
“If you want to call it working. I saw four people, and got rejected by four people.”
“But they gave you a chance, and that’s almost as good as them letting you treat them. Good gumbo, by the way. I think you inherited Eula’s cooking talents.”
“That was one of the things I always took for granted, I think. She had an amazing way in the kitchen that I didn’t appreciate until I was away from here, living on fast food and whatever else I could scrounge cheaply.”
“Well, if you should ever decide to give up medicine, I can definitely see you in a restaurant kitchen.”
“I’d invite you to stay, except I know you want to get back to your daughter.”
“And I might have taken you up on the offer, but you’re right. I need some time with her—don’t get enough of it.” Heading toward the door, she paused before she stepped outside. “Did you ever take that liniment to Miss Willie?” she asked. “Because if you didn’t, I’m betting now would be a good time. And I think she’d appreciate the gumbo, too. She doesn’t do much cooking for herself these days, and a nice, hearty meal would do her some good.”
“As much good as it would do me, getting into her good graces?”
“Every little bit helps,” she quipped. “Oh, and I think she probably likes her gumbo over rice.”
“Can you point me in the direction of her house?” he asked. “I might have known once, but it’s been a long time since I’ve gone tromping through this backcountry, and I don’t particularly like the idea of getting lost out there this time of day.”
“I can do you better than pointing. I’m going to go right by her place. I can give you a lift, and that should be good enough to show you how to get yourself back before the sun goes down.”
It didn’t take a minute for Justin to ladle out enough gumbo for several meals into one bowl, and scoop up an ample amount of rice into another. “Who would have ever guessed I’d be making house calls and carrying in food,” he said, shutting the kitchen door behind him, then following Mellette down to the boat dock where her skiff was moored.
It was a small boat but big enough to seat four comfortably. Not fast, but high enough to sit her above the reach of alligators and other water creatures that might get curious. Not that an alligator had ever come near enough to threaten her. But she was a city girl after all. And even though her city sat on the edge of Big Swamp, that didn’t mean she had swamp experience. In fact, she’d surprised herself taking this part-time job where she had to boat in and out for easiest access, dodging stumps and roots. There’d been any number of part-time opportunities available at New Hope, or in other private enterprises, but something about the call of the wild had intrigued her.
Maybe it had been Landry’s influence. He’d loved Big Swamp. Had spent part of his childhood in a community not too far from here. Being here made her feel closer to him.
“Who’d have ever thought you’d get me out on the bayou in a boat, all by myself, just to get to work?” she countered, as she took her seat and started the engine. “But never say never, right?”
“Being a Doucet, I guess this really wouldn’t be normal for you, would it?” he said, setting down the bowls of food in the bottom of the boat.
“Being a Doucet, nothing’s normal. We’re an … I guess the best way you can put it is an unusual family. Seven girls … My poor daddy. I know he wanted a son, but he turned out to be quite prodigious in the daughter department. And at times I think it simply overwhelmed him. Then he held out such high hopes for a grandson when I was pregnant, and got another girl.”
“Whom he loves, I’m sure,” Justin said, sitting back as the thrum of the boat’s engine settled into a gentle cadence while they wound their way through Big Swamp trees.
“He adores her. In fact, Daddy’s retired now—he was an anesthesiologist—and he’s the one who watches Leonie most of the time. Spoils her rotten. But I do hope that someday one of my sisters gives him a grandson.”
“Leonie’s his only grandchild?”
“So far. I’m the only one who’s married. My sisters Sabine and Delphine, twins, are dedicated doctors, and Magnolia’s a legal medical investigator. Then there are Ghislaine, Lisette and Acadia, all of them in various stages of their medical education or careers.” She smiled. “We’re close in age. My mother didn’t want to interrupt her medical career for too long, so she popped us all out pretty quickly, about a year apart. And so far I’m the only one to take the marriage plunge. But it’s Daddy’s biggest fear that the rest of them will fall in love at the same time and he’ll have to spring for six weddings in rapid succession.”
“I can’t even imagine having that many brothers or sisters,” he said.
“Eula never really told me much about your family situation.”
“There wasn’t much to tell. I was an only child. Didn’t come from Big Swamp, although my father did, obviously, as Eula was his mother. But my grandfather took my dad out of here when he left my grandmother to seek fame and fortune or whatever it is he wanted to do, and never looked back. He pretty much poisoned my dad to Big Swamp, and the people who lived here. Including my grandmother. Anyway, my parents raised me in New Orleans, then after they were killed—plane crash—I ended up with my grandmother in the place where my dad had refused to go.”
“And you forever hated it here?”
“That’s what she told you?”
“Not in so many words, but it makes sense. You left here when you were a kid, hardly ever came back to see her. Probably under your father’s influence in some remote way. It only stands to reason that you didn’t want to be here, given the history. Still don’t, I suppose.” She steered around a clump of low-hanging moss, then slowed down as a meandering nutria swam by the boat, not at all concerned about being disturbed. It was his domain, she supposed, and he was simply asserting his place in it.
“Still don’t on a permanent basis, but I’ve been back plenty of times to visit my grandmother,” he said, but without much conviction in his voice. “Look, earlier when you said we need to talk … you’re right. I really do want to sit down and talk to you about what I’m going to do here to take care of these people.”
“Why do you care?” she asked as she veered to the left and puttered her way up a shallow inlet.
“Because my grandmother cared.”
“Then that leads me to the obvious question.”
“Let me save you the trouble of asking. The reason I didn’t move back here, not even to New Orleans, to be closer is … complicated, and I’m not even sure I can explain it to myself, let alone someone else. It’s just the way things were with me. I ended up in Chicago, liked it and stayed. And, yes, I did have opportunities here. Could have gone to New Hope, actually. But coming back here, being so close …” He shrugged. “I like my practice, like Chicago. Like the life I have there.”
“And you were afraid that coming back to Big Swamp, even for visits, would overwhelm you with all kinds of guilty feelings.”
She slowed the boat alongside a rickety old dock, then pointed to a shanty about two hundred feet off the water. It was wooden, painted red, with blue shutters. All the paint chipped and faded. In the yard lay three good-size alligators, looking lazy and not particularly interested in the meddlers coming around to bother them.
“Or I was afraid that coming back to Big Swamp would overwhelm me with all kinds of responsibilities I can’t handle. Which is turning out to be the case.”
“Look, I’m not working tomorrow evening. If you can get to town, come by the house for dinner, around seven. Not sure you’ll want to travel these parts at night to get home, so you’re invited to stay. It’ll be at my parents’ house, by the way. I don’t live with them, but I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to extend their hospitality. That is, if you make it through the gators tonight.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that?”
“Very carefully,” she said, handing him one of his bowls of food. “They have short legs, so I think you’ll be able to outrun them.” She laughed. “But they do have that one fast burst of energy at the start, so if you don’t make it to dinner tomorrow night, I’ll know what happened.”
CHAPTER THREE
AS THE DAY dragged on, Justin found himself more and more anxious to go to town and have dinner with Mellette and her family. It was a kind invitation, and the idea of being around real medical people again excited him because the longer he was away from his practice the more he missed it. The most appealing part of the evening, though, was the prospect of getting to know Mellette. Even though she’d made it perfectly clear she wasn’t ready to move on from her husband.
All that was fine with him, as there was no time in his life for a relationship outside a professional one. He had too much ambition wrapped up in his fast rise to where he was, and that was important to him. Maybe the most important thing. Not that he had anything in mind for Mellette other than trying to convince her to work in Big Swamp full time. Because he didn’t. She was his means to an end—he hoped. The person who could put things right for a lot of people. Himself included.
And he’d done some predawn soul-searching on just how to accomplish what he needed. Tried coming up with an incentive that would work for everyone involved, but especially for Mellette, because he wanted to make this offer something that would benefit her in ways that mattered. So by the time dawn began to awaken the bayou, and all the otters and raccoons outside were taking their first morning stretches, he was fairly certain he’d hit upon the perfect plan.
Although he wasn’t convinced enough to be smug about it, since he was fully aware that what he was about to offer Mellette could well fly in the face of her close-knit family and cause some blaring divisions there. Big life changes had a way of making that happen—something he knew from firsthand experience.
Still, he was keeping his fingers crossed that this plan would work out; the more he thought about it, the more he knew Mellette was his only strong answer. And a strong answer was the only thing that could work, owing to all the obstacles Big Swamp presented.
“I’m working on the book,” Justin told his literary agent in a just-after-dawn phone call. “But I’m pretty busy here, taking care of all my grandmother’s unfinished business.” Well, that wasn’t exactly as true as it should have been, as he hadn’t even begun to tie up loose ends. But he was working on a plan to open a clinic, and it was his intention to get all the personal matters tied up in the next couple of weeks so he wasn’t exactly lying. Just jumping the gun on his to-do list.
“You’re not going to blow your deadline, are you, Justin? Because if you are, I need to get it squared away with your editor.”
Deadlines, editor … Yes, he kept himself almost as busy writing as he did being a doctor these days. Truth was, he enjoyed his growing passion for being a medical mystery novelist. It had happened quite by accident, when he’d been asked to step in at the last minute to consult on the medical aspect of a movie being filmed in Chicago. A couple more movie and television gigs had come from that, along with the idea of writing a novel.
And while Justin hadn’t been an overnight bestselling author, his career was promising enough to get him his first two-book contract for starters. Now he was on his second two-book contract, and there were faint whispers of turning his second book into a movie. It was a long shot, but exciting.
He liked writing. Didn’t want to stop doing it. But he didn’t know how it was going to fit into his long-term plans, because his medical practice really did take up more time than he’d ever thought it would. So that was his career crisis. How could he manage all aspects of it? Or how could he separate out the aspects he wanted to prioritize?
What he could figure out, though, was that he was staying in Big Swamp much longer than he’d expected to—it was at least giving him more time to write, to edit, to work up to that next deadline, even though he’d been brain-dead the past few days, putting off the decisions he’d have to make eventually. Putting off life in general. Also, there was something about the surroundings here that was conducive to his story setting, so much eerie nature that was a real kick to his creative mystery-writing process.
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