Page 53 of The Cajun Doctor

“Aaron is otherwise occupied,” he said enigmatically, but then explained about his missing brother and the lost phone. “But I could be available.” A generous offer, if he did say so himself. “So, what’s the dangerous situation you needed Aaron for? Won’t I do?”

She gave him a narrow-eyed glance to see if he’d meant that as a double entendre.

He had.

“Aaron is a pilot, and I need transport out of the country.”

His eyes went wide. “Whaaat?” Not at all what he’d expected! With as much patience as he could muster, he told her, “You need air transportation? Louis Armstrong International Airport is only ten miles away. Can you say 1–800-DeltaAir?”

“It’s not for me, but . . .” She shrugged and proceeded to tell him the most amazing story about Angus, her stepbrother by marriage . . . the son of one of her father’s numerous wives by a previous husband, or some such thing . . . and a young pregnant woman. It was a convoluted tale about gambling debts and the Dixie Mafia and Samantha’s ex-husband who was selling babies. Bottom line was, Angus and the girl wanted to go to Costa Rica to hide out for a while.

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?” she asked, failing to hear his sarcasm.

“The mafia, a baby selling operation, pit bulls, gambling debts, an advanced pregnancy. Seriously?”

“I know it sounds unbelievable.”

“You think?” When she didn’t back down from her story, he homed in on something else. “Where are Angus and the girl right now?”

She raised her eyes upward. “Upstairs. Sleeping.”

“Of course they are,” he said.

“They were exhausted and, frankly, I’m worried about Lily Beth. Her ankles and hands are really swollen. I don’t suppose, since you’re here . . .”

“Samantha! I’m not an obstetrician.”

“You’re a doctor,” she said, as if he needed a reminder.

“How swollen?”

“Very.”

“She better see an OB-GYN asap.”

“She claims that Nick, who happens to conveniently be an OB-GYN, by the way, has been giving her regular exams. And she’s on prenatal vitamins.”

“And you think that’s enough? You trust your ex?”

“Of course not.”

“Then she needs to get checked by another physician. No, not me. A baby doctor.”

“Not gonna happen. At least not right away.” Samantha shook her head adamantly. “I already told them that, as well as suggesting they go to the police, or John LeDeux, or Luc LeDeux for help. They refused all of those. They’re really scared. In fact, I’m beginning to get scared myself.”

“All the more reason to get help.”

“That’s exactly why I called you . . . I mean, Aaron.”

“Yeah, Aaron knows a lot about pregnant women.”

“I need Aaron for something else. But since you’re here, and you’re a doctor . . .” She pulled at her own hair with frustration. “Jeesh! I’m not asking you to do brain surgery, Daniel, or even deliver a baby. Can’t you stop being so selfish and come out of your self-imposed pity party exile for a medical crisis? All I meant was . . .”

“Pity party exile? Why don’t you tell me what you really think? Makes me really want to help you.”

“Sorry. My nerves are shot. I hate that I’ve been pulled into this mess. And I hate asking anyone else to help.”