Page 73 of The Cajun Doctor

“We can buy both the mattress set and fridge at Costco, unless you want to go to separate furniture and appliance stores. And we can get the groceries at Costco, too.”

“I could kiss you for that,” he said.

When she glanced over at him with surprise, he smiled. “It was just an expression.” But the wink he added belied his words.

That kiss! That blasted kiss they’d shared stood between them like a big white sizzling elephant. Neither of them was forgetting it.

“The closest Costco is in Metairie, which is about fifty miles from here. We’d be cutting it short, getting back here by two.”

“I’m a quick shopper.”

“If you say so. Where’s Aaron, by the way?”

“Working. He’ll be back this afternoon. Hopefully.”

They had just hit Houma and Daniel pulled off the road and into the parking lot of Terrebonne Oncology Center. “I want to drop off these blood vials and the urine sample,” he told her before she had a chance to ask why they were stopping. “Stay in the car where it’s cool. I’ll be right out.”

When he hadn’t returned in fifteen minutes, Samantha got curious. Entering the automatic doors into the reception area, she asked an attendant at the desk. “I’m looking for Daniel LeDeux. He came in here a little while ago.”

“You mean Doctor LeDeux?”

“Yes.”

“He went up to the third floor, pediatrics, to do a consult for Doctor Laroche. Do you want me to page them?”

Samantha knew George Laroche, or rather, she’d heard of him from her attendance at charity events. He was founder and director of this medical clinic, and a well-regarded cancer specialist.

“No, I’ll go up myself, if that’s all right,” Samantha said.

The attendant just shrugged.

Samantha entered a nearby elevator and hit the number three button. Immediately, she had reservations.

I should have stayed in the car.

I should mind my own business.

But how is it that he can just drop off blood vials for testing, without having a Louisiana medical license?

And what’s his connection to Doctor Laroche?

And pediatrics? Wasn’t that Daniel’s specialty?

Hmmm.

When the elevator pinged and she exited onto the pediatric ward, she could hear the excited voices of children coming from the various rooms, along with some crying, one youthful scream, followed by a youthful exclamation of, “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” Then, “You’re a poop head!” The colors here were brighter than the usual sterile hospital corridors. Here and there on the walls hung children’s crayon drawings. From one room, she could hear Pharrell Williams’s “Happy” song blaring out, probably a video playing on someone’s TV.

She was about to go over to the nurse’s station and ask for Daniel’s whereabouts when she noticed what looked like a children’s playroom up ahead and a man in blue scrubs and a surgical cap standing inside. He looked like . . . yes, he was George Laroche.

She moved in that direction, then stopped just outside the door, transfixed by what she saw. It was here that the TV was playing. Scattered about the room were child-size tables and chairs, beanbags, and a toy chest overflowing with stuffed animals and games. There was even a tricycle.

Doctor Laroche was watching Daniel who was down on his haunches speaking softly to a little girl wearing a ballerina outfit in hot pink and a knitted cap on her head. Ruffled anklet socks were on her feet, inside red, sparkly Dorothy shoes, as in The Wizard of Oz. The girl was sobbing.

“I doan want no more needles, Doctor Dan,” she cried.

“I know, princess, but they make you better.”

“Doan care! Where’s Daddy?”