A Home for the Hot-Shot Doc

“That’s right, city boy. You come from spoiled uppity folks who never would step foot in Big Swamp for fear something might bite them, or dirty their pretty little leather shoes.” He kicked his foot up, showing up a well-worn, holey sneaker that had seen better days a decade ago. “I do have me a fine pair of alligator boots I save for special occasions, but that’s not good enough for the Bergerons who left these parts.”

“Would that be me?” Justin asked, knowing in some ways it was. He’d been from the city, raised there until he was five, then dumped on a grandmother he’d never met when his parents had died in a plane crash.

“If you want it to be, boy. Only if you want it to be.”

The problem was, while his formative years had been spent in Big Swamp, he’d turned uppity, as it was called in these parts. But only after walking a long, hard road to get there. “Never mine, mon cher,” his grandmother had said to him on many occasions. “You’ve still got the good in you.” The good. Whatever that was.

After the way he’d behaved he wasn’t sure the good she’d seen was still there. If it ever had been.

His grandmother had loved him dearly, though. Taken him in without question when asked, raised him the best way she’d known how. And loved him. Dear God, that woman had possessed such a capacity for love. Along with the same generous capacity for forgiveness and understanding. “What I want …” Justin paused. Listened to the same barred owl he’d been listening to earlier, then sighed. “Don’t have a clue.” Not a clue, except that he couldn’t stay here.

“Sure you do, boy. It’s just going to take some strong medicine to cure you—something that’s stronger than anything you can prescribe.” Amos took another draw on his cigarette, then stood up. “Got me a couple dozen fresh eggs and a loaf of Miss Minnie’s bread, made fresh this afternoon. Caught me a whole mess of crawfish today, too. So I’m fixing up a fine scramble for breakfast in the morning. Bring some peppers and onions and I’ll see you around six.”

“Nine,” Justin countered. “And no chicory in the coffee.”

“Seven-thirty, city boy. And it’s not coffee if it doesn’t have chicory. So don’t be late, or I’ll be startin’ without you.” He smacked his lips. “Havin’ those crawfish all for myself.”

Okay, so part of Big Swamp was in his blood. He loved crawfish and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He missed the way his grandmother had fixed them. “Fine, seven-thirty. But not a minute earlier. And go easy on the hot sauce, old man,” Justin said as Amos ambled off the porch. “Don’t want to burn my tongue off.”

Amos’s only reply was another one of his belly laughs.

Rather than dragging a reluctant child up the sidewalk, Mellette gave in and picked up the protesting three-year-old Leonie and carried her the length of the pavement. Passing by the red azaleas and pink bougainvillea, walking under a drape of lavender wisteria, which she’d dearly loved since she was a child, she struggled the squiggling bundle up the steps of the white plantation mansion, on past the massive columns supporting the front porch overhang, and straight to the mahogany doors. “I’ll be home before you’re in bed,” she said as she fought to grab hold of the doorknob.

“Why can’t I come with you?” Leonie whined.

“Because I don’t have time to watch you.” And there were alligators, and the swamp, and all manner of other outdoor things that weren’t safe for a three-year-old who lived to escape her mother’s watchful eye. “Mommy has patients to see all day.” And Mommy was beginning to wear down from the daily grind of her work, which meant she wasn’t as alert as she needed to be. Not alert enough, anyway, to take care of a day’s worth of patients as well as look after a rambunctious toddler who, every day, in every way, was growing to be more and more like her daddy. Something that warmed Mellette’s heart, and broke it at the same time.

“I told you we’d take care of those bills,” Zenobia Doucet said sharply as she took Leonie from Mellette. “You’re killing yourself, working so hard. And your daughter needs you. Just look at her—she’s wild. And you … You’re a mess. Doucet women should look better, Mellette. And if you weren’t working out there in the bayou …”

Instinctively, she pushed her short hair back from her face. “But I am working in the bayou. And I’m hoping that job is still there for me now that Eula’s gone.” She worked there to help pay off medical bills left over from Landry’s illness. They were her responsibility, and she took her responsibilities seriously. “One more year, and I’ll be free and clear. Then I won’t have to moonlight.” One more year and she’d be so ready to move on.

“Darling, you lost your house, they took away your car … you and my granddaughter live in a one-room apartment. You need better than that, and your father and I—”

“And we’re making it work, Mother,” she interrupted, brushing a kiss on her mother’s cheek.

“But you don’t have to be so proud about it. We’re family, and family’s supposed to help.”

Sometimes it was still hard to believe that Landry was gone, because everything in her life revolved around him. But he was, had been for over two years now. A short bout with a devastating cancer, and she’d been widowed with a baby. Left with insurmountable debt she wouldn’t let her family take over for her. Landry had been a proud man and she’d loved that about him. She had her own pride, too. And sure, a bailout from her family would have been easy. Move in, take money. But it wasn’t right. She and Landry had agreed on that before his death. Although now Mellette was sure Landry hadn’t known the extent of debt left to her. But that was okay. It was their agreement, something she had to do to honor his memory. And, yes, she was prideful, because she wanted to be an example for her daughter. Wanted not only to teach her strength but show her strength.

So she worked two jobs, raised a daughter and made one concession on child care, not just because her family doing it for free was helpful—which it was. But if she couldn’t spend much time with her daughter these days, she at least wanted her daughter in the arms of people who loved and cherished her. Mellette’s father, a retired anesthesiologist, spent his days with Leonie. Her mother, an active physician and chief of staff at New Hope Medical Center, spent evenings with Leonie when that was necessary. Her six sisters—all medical in one capacity or another—took turns when they could. And it worked beautifully.

They were an eminently qualified family to care for one little girl. And a family who loved Leonie with a passion. So Mellette had no qualms about leaving her daughter with them, except that she was missing out, and that hurt. Because her mother was correct. Leonie needed more of her. “I love you and Daddy for wanting to help me but, like I’ve told you, it’s working out.”

“But it breaks my heart, seeing how hard you’re working. Seeing how it’s dragging you down like it is.”

“What I need most is to know that Leonie’s in good hands. She’s my biggest concern, and it makes me feel a lot better knowing you all have her when I can’t.”

“Your father and I would never refuse her, and you know that. And if you ever change your mind …”

“I know,” Mellette said, glancing at her watch. One hour until her first patient arrived, and she still had to take that hellish boat ride in. Sure, she could drive in, but it took twice as long and that extra time the boat afforded her was time she spent with Leonie. “Look, I’m running behind. Got patients to see, and I’m barely going to beat them to the door. I’ll be back tonight, but it’s going to be a late day because I need to get some things straight with Justin. So go ahead and keep Leonie for the night, and I promised her I’d be back to tuck her in. Although I’m not sure she’ll be awake when I get here. And if you don’t mind, I’ll probably crash here tonight, as well.”

“Or you could just move home,” Zenobia said again. “Lord knows, we have plenty of room.”

Yes, they did have the room. But Mellette needed her private time with Leonie, and their tiny apartment suited them for now.

Mellette gave her mother another kiss on the cheek. “Tell Daddy I love him, and that maybe I’ll see him later tonight.” She gave her daughter a kiss. “And you, young lady, need to be good for your grandmother. Promise?”

Leonie gave her mother a sullen look and didn’t answer. Which made Mellette’s load even heavier to bear. But there was nothing she could do right now. One more year, though, and things would be different. Just one more year …

Mellette Chaisson. Justin really didn’t know much about her. He’d hired her from the registry, had liked her credentials. Had liked her voice over the phone during the interviews. Liked what he’d seen of her bedside manner, as well. But when she was here he pretty much stayed away because the people trusted her with their problems. Whereas they were wary around him. So he didn’t want to shake up that dynamic, which meant that the days she was here, he wasn’t. From what he’d seen in passing, though, he did like her. Especially the way she threw herself into her work.

Except she always looked tired. “They’re lining up today,” he told her, as she rushed through the kitchen and quickly stowed a couple of bottles of water and a sandwich in the fridge.

“There’s a flu virus going around. Ever since we had that malaria come though, people get nervous with the least little sniffle.”

“People overreact.”

She arched her back, bared her claws at that insensitive remark. “Four people in the community died of malaria, Doctor. If that causes the rest of them to overreact, then I suppose they have a right to. And you know what? While you may pay my salary, you’re really not entitled to an opinion since you don’t get involved in anything other than putting a signature on a check.”

Okay, so maybe liking her was too strong. He admired her dedication to her work. Didn’t know a thing about her, though. Not a single thing. Except she wore a wedding ring. Had a fiery temper. And she was a good nurse. Of course, his grandmother had liked her, too, and that said a lot. “So what you’re telling me is that your employer isn’t allowed to express an opinion about his employee’s work.”

“Yes,” she said, quite sternly. “And, technically, I was not your employee. I worked for your grandmother, who worked for the community.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Then that makes me … what?”

“Right now, a nuisance. Go to work, see a few of those couple dozen people out there who want to be seen, and I could be persuaded to change my mind about that. Otherwise get out of my way.”

Mellette slammed through the kitchen door, hurried down the hall and into the area Eula had set aside for her clinic. The people waiting there were orderly and polite, no one pushing and shoving to be seen first. But there were so many of them, she was beginning to wonder if she’d be able to make good on that promise to tuck her daughter in tonight, because if she wasn’t out of here by dusk, she wasn’t going.

Travelling during the daylight was one thing, and she’d gotten used to that. But Big Swamp at night was a whole different story, and not one she particularly wanted to face. Call her a coward, call her chicken … she’d answer to it all because she was a city girl. Hadn’t even known these isolated pocket communities existed in Big Swamp until a year ago when she’d seen the ad for a part-time nurse. And she’d spent her entire life living so close to here.

Talk about an isolated existence! Raised with all the advantages, she was almost embarrassed to admit where she’d lacked. Landry had made up for that in a lot of ways, not being from that proverbial silver-spoon family, like she was. But all this … Areas where an entire community of people existed, totally out of step with society, living a good life independently. Nothing was taken for granted here. And every kind gesture was appreciated.

“I don’t work here,” Justin said, following her into the clinic, which had actually been his grandmother’s parlor. Now it was a plain room with several wooden chairs and a curtain to separate the waiting area from the person being seen. There was nothing medicinal here. No equipment, no real medicines. Of course, Eula Bergeron hadn’t practiced medicine. She’d been a self-taught herbalist. Someone who’d known which swamp herbs cured what.

“But you could, since you’re not doing anything else.”

“The people don’t trust me.”

“Probably because you’ve given them good reason not to.”

“You’re actually right about that. So what’s the point of wasting my time?”

“What’s the point of even being here if you’re not going to make yourself useful?” she snapped. “Look, we need to talk. Today. Later.”

“You’re right. I was thinking about asking you to put in another day every week.”

“Another day?” Mellette sputtered. “And just where would I get that?”