Lulu's Recipe for Cajun Sass - Sandra Hill Page 0,55

in Chicago and we had a long talk about my situation. He didn’t think I would have any time outside my studies and residency to get a job to supplement my income so we could find better living arrangements, but he did say that the wives of some of the married residents got work in the hospital…offices, cafeteria, that kind of thing.”

“And where would Adèle be when we were both working?”

“You could get hours while she’s in school.”

“Kindergarten is only half a day, Justin.”

“I know that. I could also get a loan from my parents, though they’re not wealthy by any means. Honey, I’m just trying to say that we, together, could find a way that would work for us. And it would only be temporary.”

“Temporary to an adult is different than temporary to a child,” she argued. “A month is like a year to a child. Three years would be like forever for Adèle. As for borrowing money from your parents, I would never do that. Never!”

“That was just an example. I would be a good risk for a bank loan.”

“Pfff!”

“I’m trying to look at the bigger picture. In three years, I’ll probably be able to name my salary. We would have more than enough in the long term to have a home in a good neighborhood, a family including more children if you want, two cars, a few luxuries. Wouldn’t that be worth the sacrifice?”

“You’re missing my bigger picture, Justin.”

His heart sank. He was losing this battle.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think this week, and I’ve come to some conclusions.” The sadness in her beautiful eyes crushed him with foreboding.

“Number one, I am a mother, and Adèle and what is best for her, comes first. Living in a city would not be good for her.

“Number two, like Adèle, living in a city would kill my soul. I didn’t realize, until faced with the possibility of losing it, that the bayou is part of my identity. It’s who I am. My heritage. The way I feel when I breathe in the bayou air. The plants and animals that give me sustenance.

“Number three, I am a traiteur. Folk healing is a gift passed down through all the female generations in my family. But I am specifically a bayou traiteur. My skills would not fit in a city setting.

“Number four, you are going to be an amazing doctor, but more than that. As a pioneer in a new specialty that you’re already passionate about, I suspect you’re destined for bigger things. Your ambition, tied with your gifts, might even make you famous. That’s not going to happen here in Houma as a family doctor, which is something you offered to do for me. And, yes, I know there’s nothing wrong with general practice, but not for you.”

“Don’t burn bridges you might want to cross someday, sweetheart.”

“The bridge is already gone, Justin. I’m sorry.”

“But—”

She shook her head. The tears which had been welling in her eyes spilled over and streamed down her face. She didn’t even bother to swipe at them, even though she had to realize the tears were messing up her mascara, as well.

He used a thumb to swipe at one of the fat black tears and sighed, “Oh, sweetheart. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Let me finish while I still can,” she said on a slight sob. She took both of his hands in hers. “It’s over, Justin. It has to be. For your sake and for mine.” He must have moaned because she squeezed his hands.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” he asked over the lump in his throat the size of an orange. “Is that what this is about?”

She shook her head as tears continued to flow. “I love you, and I love the time we’ve had together. Most of all I have to thank you for bringing me out of my Big Grief over Phillipe. You helped me turn a corner that has blocked me for years.”

“Great. I do all the work so some other guy can step in.”

She slapped him playfully on the arm.

“I also have to thank you for helping me regain my Cajun Sass.”

“Fuck Cajun Sass!”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk!” she said. It was a word he’d never used around her before. But she was smiling. Smiling through her tears.

“Maybe I can find some Chicago chick who needs to learn some Cajun Sass,” he joked, though his heart was breaking. “I’m already handy with a syringe. Maybe I could inject a bit of tabasco in