Read Online Snow on the Bayou: A Tante Lulu Adventure by Sandra Hill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sandra Hill
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luckier than many people, having this time with a loved one,” the doctor concluded.
They must teach that platitude in Bullshit 101.
“Just try to make your grandmother as comfortable and happy as possible. If she changes her mind about further radiation, give me a call.”
“Are you sure the further chemo and radiation wouldn’t extend her life significantly?”
“No guarantees, and the side effects can be brutal. Your grandmother is lucid and she knows what she wants. Bottom line, Justin. If it were my mother, or grandmother, I would respect her wishes.” The doctor checked his wristwatch and stood.
Cage stood, too, carefully. His knee screamed with pain when he sat in one position too long. He laughed then and told the doctor, “I know the one thing that would make MawMaw happy. A baby.”
The old man’s harried face eased into a smile. It must be tough dealing with cancer patients all day long, year after year. “Oh. I didn’t know you were married. When’s the little one due?”
“I’m not married, and there is no baby.”
The doctor’s brow furrowed with confusion.
“My grandmother is trying to guilt me into rushing the blessed event.”
“The wedding or the birth?”
“Both. Of course I’d have to find a woman first.”
“Well, that would certainly give her something to hold on for.”
Cage’s eyes widened with shock. Was he actually suggesting—
The doctor laughed. “I was teasing.”
As they were walking out to the reception area, the doctor said, “A Navy SEAL, huh? My grandson has been thinking about becoming a SEAL ever since the raid thatkilled Bin Laden. He’s a premed student at Tulane. Any advice?”
“Tell him to go to med school.”
The physician arched his unruly white eyebrows in question.
“Becoming a SEAL is ten times harder than becoming a doctor. And doctors have better chances for a long life.”
After shaking hands and leaving the building, Cage roamed the streets of the French Quarter for a while, not an easy task with his gimpy leg. But exercise was good, within limits; otherwise the knee would lock up on him. He limped slowly down the narrow streets, avoiding busy Bourbon Street and other tourist traps. He paused occasionally to gaze into store windows with their ornate displays of antiques, jewelry, and New Orleans oddities, but the whole time his mind was on his grandmother and how he had to have a bright face on when he returned to the bayou this afternoon. A Hurricane or five, heavy on the bourbon, might do the trick, but he had a long drive ahead of him. Instead, he would stop for some oyster po-boys to bring for their supper.
Just then, he noticed a shop with colorful Mardi Gras costumes and masks. E & B Designs. Not that he was into that whole Fat Tuesday hoopla. Even as a teenager, he’d been a spectator, rather than a participant. Who was he kidding? The drunken Mardi Gras crowds had been a field day for an experienced pickpocket as he’d been, before moving up to harder crimes. And all the women exposing their boobs for a mere set of beads? What young boy didn’t love that?
Things were different when he’d been with Emelie, his steady girlfriend in those days. He’d behaved to please her. And she’d loved everything about Mardi Gras, especiallythe parades. He smiled, remembering the one time he’d snuck Priscilla out of the garage after his grandparents had fallen asleep. He and Em had watched the parades and stayed out all night, ending up in the backseat of the big old car. They didn’t make bench seats like that anymore. A pity!
He was still smiling as he prepared to walk on when his attention was caught by a framed newspaper article on a small easel inside of the window about E & B Designs from the
Times-Picayune
. What stopped him cold was the photograph that accompanied the article. There were two women smiling at the camera, and he knew both of them. Belle Pitot and Emelie Gaudet. Em! Apparently Belle designed the costumes and
They must teach that platitude in Bullshit 101.
“Just try to make your grandmother as comfortable and happy as possible. If she changes her mind about further radiation, give me a call.”
“Are you sure the further chemo and radiation wouldn’t extend her life significantly?”
“No guarantees, and the side effects can be brutal. Your grandmother is lucid and she knows what she wants. Bottom line, Justin. If it were my mother, or grandmother, I would respect her wishes.” The doctor checked his wristwatch and stood.
Cage stood, too, carefully. His knee screamed with pain when he sat in one position too long. He laughed then and told the doctor, “I know the one thing that would make MawMaw happy. A baby.”
The old man’s harried face eased into a smile. It must be tough dealing with cancer patients all day long, year after year. “Oh. I didn’t know you were married. When’s the little one due?”
“I’m not married, and there is no baby.”
The doctor’s brow furrowed with confusion.
“My grandmother is trying to guilt me into rushing the blessed event.”
“The wedding or the birth?”
“Both. Of course I’d have to find a woman first.”
“Well, that would certainly give her something to hold on for.”
Cage’s eyes widened with shock. Was he actually suggesting—
The doctor laughed. “I was teasing.”
As they were walking out to the reception area, the doctor said, “A Navy SEAL, huh? My grandson has been thinking about becoming a SEAL ever since the raid thatkilled Bin Laden. He’s a premed student at Tulane. Any advice?”
“Tell him to go to med school.”
The physician arched his unruly white eyebrows in question.
“Becoming a SEAL is ten times harder than becoming a doctor. And doctors have better chances for a long life.”
After shaking hands and leaving the building, Cage roamed the streets of the French Quarter for a while, not an easy task with his gimpy leg. But exercise was good, within limits; otherwise the knee would lock up on him. He limped slowly down the narrow streets, avoiding busy Bourbon Street and other tourist traps. He paused occasionally to gaze into store windows with their ornate displays of antiques, jewelry, and New Orleans oddities, but the whole time his mind was on his grandmother and how he had to have a bright face on when he returned to the bayou this afternoon. A Hurricane or five, heavy on the bourbon, might do the trick, but he had a long drive ahead of him. Instead, he would stop for some oyster po-boys to bring for their supper.
Just then, he noticed a shop with colorful Mardi Gras costumes and masks. E & B Designs. Not that he was into that whole Fat Tuesday hoopla. Even as a teenager, he’d been a spectator, rather than a participant. Who was he kidding? The drunken Mardi Gras crowds had been a field day for an experienced pickpocket as he’d been, before moving up to harder crimes. And all the women exposing their boobs for a mere set of beads? What young boy didn’t love that?
Things were different when he’d been with Emelie, his steady girlfriend in those days. He’d behaved to please her. And she’d loved everything about Mardi Gras, especiallythe parades. He smiled, remembering the one time he’d snuck Priscilla out of the garage after his grandparents had fallen asleep. He and Em had watched the parades and stayed out all night, ending up in the backseat of the big old car. They didn’t make bench seats like that anymore. A pity!
He was still smiling as he prepared to walk on when his attention was caught by a framed newspaper article on a small easel inside of the window about E & B Designs from the
Times-Picayune
. What stopped him cold was the photograph that accompanied the article. There were two women smiling at the camera, and he knew both of them. Belle Pitot and Emelie Gaudet. Em! Apparently Belle designed the costumes and
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