Dianne Drake – A Doctor's Confession (страница 2)
“Maybe you want to be happy the way I am, and you just don’t know it yet. I was like that when I first met Justin. Wasn’t ready to let go of the past and move on. It took me a while to come round, but when I did …”
“You decided the whole world has to act just like you did. Except my world is complicated.”
“And mine wasn’t?” Mellette asked. “I had to remove a wedding ring given me by someone I loved very much in order to make room for Justin. And I also had a daughter who was very much involved in my move forward. And you have …” She folded her arms across her fat belly and faked a contemplative frown.
“Let’s see. You have none of that. You’re moving away from a boring boyfriend, followed by a chauvinist rebound, you’re at the top of your law school class, you have a killer job that you claim to love. And that sweaty guy over there keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Nothing about that sounds complicated at all. In fact, it seems pretty straightforward to me.”
“I’m in transition. Give me some time.”
“Seriously, Maggie? That’s the best you can do?”
Maggie took a quick peek at the guy in the jeans, then concentrated on her lemonade. “I’m sure his story is a long, sad one. You know, dumped by the love of his life who ran off to marry a rodeo clown, and now he sits at home alone every night, sniffing the scent of her left on the pillow while petting FruFru, the fluffy white poodle over which they fought for custody.”
“First thing is, he’s definitely not the poodle type. German shepherd, I think. Yes, he’d definitely have a German shepherd. And, Maggie, if you think he sits home alone every night, you probably don’t deserve to serve him lemonade. He’s one catchable hunk of man if I’ve ever seen one, and the only reason he’d be staying home is because he wants to.” She took a sip of her lemonade.
“Or he’s a serial killer.”
“A serial killer with drop-dead-gorgeous blue eyes,” Mellette continued.
“They’re green,” Maggie corrected.
“You looked!”
“And I saw his sandy blond hair, wide shoulders and six-pack abs. Sure, I noticed, and that’s not counted as looking. It’s being observant. And I’ll have a good description ready for the police if he is a serial killer.”
“He’s a sexy drinker with drop-dead-gorgeous
“You said they’re drop-dead gorgeous,” Maggie challenged. “I didn’t.”
“And you’re going to contend they aren’t,
“Not a lawyer yet. And I’m not contending anything other than the fact that they’re green.” A very nice, tranquil green. “And that he is handsome.” With coloring that nearly matched hers, with green eyes just a shade lighter than the green in her eyes.
“Because you were gazing longingly into them.”
“If you weren’t so pregnant, I’d challenge you to a fight, right here, right now,” Maggie said in good-natured fun. “The way we used to when we were kids.”
“Remember how Daddy would encourage us, even lay down bets on who’d win the wrestling match? So then we’d go at each other for a while, then Mother would come in and Daddy would pretend he knew nothing about it? Then he’d get all stern and try correcting us, and we’d jump all over him.”
Both sisters laughed over the memory.
“Between you and me,” Maggie said, “I’m glad you’re having a girl. I like the idea that Leonie will have a sister the way I had all of you, and I love the idea of having another niece since the first one I got was so great. I mean, boys are nice, but I don’t know how one would fit into the family. We’re so used to girls.” She was referring to her six other siblings. At age thirty-three, Maggie fell middle in line of the seven Doucet girls. With long, honey-blonde hair and green eyes, she stood out as the different one—she being fair while the others ranged in skin complexion from medium dark to dark.
Being the fairest of the group, people had taken for granted she was also the weakest or most vulnerable. Except that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a weak, vulnerable Doucet girl in the bunch. Admittedly, Mellette was probably the strongest of them all, and that had helped her through the death of her first husband and into a life with a new love.
Maggie wasn’t far behind Mellette in strength, though. Only hers was directed at her career. First a nurse, and now studying to be a lawyer who defended medical malpractice suits—a career change that had come about after her hand, placed directly on a patient’s heart with the intent of squeezing the life back into him, had saved him but also caused him an infection.
The ungrateful man hadn’t thanked her for saving him but he had sued her for infecting him, which, for a while, had shattered her world and her desire to be in medicine. But like the typical Doucet she was, she’d come back swinging, decided to go to work as a malpractice investigator and, true to her strong nature, decided after that it wasn’t enough. Now, with just over nine months to go, she’d be the lawyer fighting back on behalf of the doctors and nurses who got sued unjustly.
“I think Justin’s glad it’s a girl, too. He loves Leonie, and while he’s never said as much, I think he likes the fact that Daddy reigns over an empire of girls. Maybe sees himself in a similar position.”
“You want seven, like Mother had?” Maggie questioned.
Mellette shook her head vigorously. “This one, maybe one more. Although I will say that Mr. Drop-Dead-Sexy Carpenter over there looks like he’s got some boys in him, in case you want to change the direction of the Doucet family.”
“Pregnant or not, I
“Over what?” Justin Bergeron asked, stepping out onto the front porch. Justin, a general surgeon and part-time general practitioner at Eula’s House, was also a medical crime novelist, with a burgeoning screenwriting career added to his résumé.
Both sisters looked up at him and started laughing.
“And I’ll take that as my cue to go back inside,” Justin said.
“You can stay,” Mellette said. “We were just … You know, sister talk.” She glanced over at her sister, who was glancing out at the carpenter. “About silly things. You and Amos are welcome to join us out here for lemonade.”
Amos Picou, an old Bergeron family friend, stepped past Justin and hurried down the steps. A direct descendent of African lineage, he was a part of the local legend, a friend to all and an all-round good man. “Sorry, ladies, but I’m off to catch me some crawdads for a nice gumbo Justin’s going to be fixing later on. Gotta hurry since he’s got to get that gumbo on to simmering pretty soon, but later, after I get back, that lemonade will sure hit the spot.”
Maggie’s eyes opened wider. “Did I hear someone say gumbo? And did I hear an invitation to dinner to help eat some of that gumbo?”
“I’ll bet Justin will fix enough for one more, if you want to go over and ask Mr. Tool Belt to join us,” Mellette said.
“I’m not going to go ask Mr. Tool Belt anything!” Maggie said, almost too defensively.
Mellette smiled and poured a glass of lemonade. “Just give this to him. Ask him if you want to, or don’t.” With that, she hurried inside, then watched her sister from the front window.
They were watching him. Probably talking about him. The fact was, he hated lemonade. Had hated it all his life, hated it yesterday when the looker had brought him some, and would hate it just as much this time she brought him a glass. But it was a kind gesture, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. After all, they’d given him work and, as it turned out, he needed work. He had living expenses to meet and his own house to renovate. Although he was finding it tough working at a medical clinic, being that close to medicine again.
When he’d answered the ad, it had read that this was to be a room addition. He’d assumed a house, as the ad had said to apply at Eula’s House. So if he’d known … actually, he’d have probably applied, anyway. But at least he’d have been prepared to spend his days around doctors and nurses. That was the tough part, being around them and not being part of them.
Well, money was money. And lemonade was lemonade. “I appreciate it, ma’am,” he said to Maggie, as she handed the glass to him.
“There’s more, if you want it,” she said. “Up on the front porch. Help yourself. And tell the other workers to help themselves.”
“I’ll tell the others, but I think one will hit the spot for me, thanks.”
“My name’s Maggie Doucet, by the way,” she said, smiling at him.
“And I’m Alain Lalonde,” he replied.
“You’re from around here, aren’t you? I can tell from the drawl.”
“Just moved back from Chicago.”
“Chicago? Really? That’s where my sister’s husband was living when she met him. Justin Bergeron. You’ve met him, haven’t you? He’s the doctor on call here.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ve met him,” he said, handing her back the empty glass after downing the lemonade in nearly one gulp, like it was bad medicine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me …”
He turned his back and started to walk away. But Maggie called out to him, “Alain, would you care to stay for gumbo tonight? As your drawl indicates you’re from around here, I think you’ll appreciate a good gumbo for what it is, and my sister’s husband is making enough to feed an army.”