Page 12 of The Cajun Doctor

“And I could retire to Florida. Buy a condo. I’m sick of the cold.”

This was the first Daniel had heard of his aunt wanting to move.

“Looks like we both might be unemployed,” Aaron commented to him. “Synchronicity, that’s what it is.” Aaron looped an arm over his shoulder. “Here you are, in need of fun to cure your grumpiness, just when we’re both out of work.”

“Listen, Aunt Mel, if our father, Valcour LeDeux, wanted nothing to do with Mom, why should we want to know him? Or vice versa. As for the Doucets . . . they wouldn’t help a pregnant girl. If those are family ties, I don’t want them,” Daniel seethed.

As Barry segued into “Blue Velvet,” Aaron tried to lighten the mood. “Now that we’re Cajuns, we probably shouldn’t listen to any more cornball Barry Manilow songs.”

“Oh, you!” Aunt Mel laughed. Their opinion of Barry Manilow was a longtime joke in the family.

“In fact, we should probably adopt Cajun music,” Daniel added.

“You’re right. I’m gonna buy me some rowdy Cajun music right after we leave here. The kind that makes people have to stomp their feet.” Aaron glanced down at his low-heeled, urban cowboy boots, as if checking to see if they were stomp worthy. Actually, he would probably fit in perfectly, as he never had in Alaska where the normal attire was fur-lined parkas, flannel shirts, and clunky Timberland boots.

“The Cajuns use accordions and washboards, don’t they?” Daniel asked Aaron, continuing the jest.

Aaron nodded. “Yep, and they yell yee-haw a lot.”

“Would you two stop?”

“Who’s the midget in this picture?” Aaron asked, holding up one of the newspaper clippings. It carried the headline Oil Tycoon Hit by Cajun Traiteur.

“Aaron! People don’t say midget anymore. They say ‘little person’.” Aunt Mel smacked Aaron on the knuckles with the will.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Who’s the little person rapping our dear ol’ dad with a folded umbrella? And what the hell’s a traiteur?”

“That’s Louise Rivard, honey. Tante Lulu, she’s called. A LeDeux family matriarch of some sort. Not a midget . . . um, little person, I don’t think. Just short.”

“What’s a traiteur?” Daniel asked.

“A folk healer,” Aunt Mel answered. “Some of these letters are from her.”

“Oh, that is just peachy. We’re not just swamp trailer park trash, we have voodoo in our genes.” Daniel shook his head, more with indifference than amusement or revulsion.

“In fact, as soon as your mother died, I notified her and told her to spread the word. She got back to me right away with condolences, but, most important, she has something to give you two. ‘Something important.’ You need to go there to pick it up, as soon as possible,” Aunt Mel told them.

“What does she want to give us?” Aaron asked. “Maybe it’s some kind of family inheritance.”

“Why can’t she just mail it to us?” Daniel wanted to know. “And isn’t it convenient that she waited until Mom was gone before offering it to us?” He, for one, had no desire to travel below the Mason-frickin’-Dixon line, on the whim of some old lady.

“Maybe it’s a plantation. Maybe we inherited a bleepin’ Tara,” Aaron teased.

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn,” Daniel said.

“Or it could be a trunk load of gold, too expensive to mail. Yeah, that’s it, pirate gold.”

“Pirates in Louisiana?” Daniel raised his brow with skepticism.

“Sure. Didn’t you ever hear of that pirate Lafitte? He had digs in Louisiana, didn’t he? Maybe we have pirate blood, too. That would be cool.”

“You two are demented,” Aunt Mel concluded. “The bottom line is, you have relatives in Louisiana. Your mother wanted you to know them. And one of them has ‘something important’ to give you.”

“It’s a Miracle,” Barry announced, jarring them all.

It would be a miracle if Daniel survived this Aunt Mel session without his head exploding. He counted off on his fingers. “So we’re Cajuns.” One finger. “Our maternal grandparents were bastards.” Two fingers. “We’re bastards.” Three fingers. “Our father was a bastard, for sure.” Four fingers. “An honorary aunt has a secret something for us.” Five fingers. “Big deal!” Six fingers. Daniel was not all that upset. He was never going to meet these people. What did it matter?

Aunt Mel slapped a hand on the desk. “You’re going! If you don’t go, how will your mother ever rest in peace?”