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. “God 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.

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.