The Doctor's Redemption. Susan Carlisle
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‘Shimmering with breathtaking romance amid the medical drama, spectacular emotional punch, a believable conflict and vivid atmospheric details NYC Angels: The Wallflower’s Secret is sure to thrill Medical Romance readers.
—GoodReads
The Doctor’s Redemption
Susan Carlisle
For years I have been fascinated with the concept of Mardi Gras and the tradition behind it. Most people only know of wild, free-spirited times in New Orleans. When Kathy Cooksey, a friend of mine, moved to Louisiana I learned that there is more to the season than what I’ve seen on TV. During a visit to her house my children and I enjoyed a family atmosphere of parades and King Cake. Boy, did we attend parades! Sometimes as many as three a day. Even my youngest would holler, ‘Hey, mister, throw me some beads!’
I later learned that Mobile, Alabama, was the first city in America to celebrate Mardi Gras. At the Mardi Gras Museum located there I discovered the behind-the-scenes events of the local society. I learned about krewes. Another friend and I attended one of the balls and had the pleasure of seeing the King and Queen, along with their court, which I describe in the book.
Laura Jo and Mark’s story takes place during the Mardi Gras season. As medical personnel they help, but they also get in on the fun. It is a time of high revelry and—for them—a chance for change. Mardi Gras is about living high and then giving something up for Lent. As you read Laura Jo and Mark’s story you will see that they did just that and found life was all the better. I hope you enjoy their story and the Mardi Gras season surrounding it.
If you would like to make your own King Cake and gumbo you can find the recipes on my website at www.SusanCarlisle.com. I also love to hear from my readers.
Susan
To Kathy Cooksey and Jeanie Brantley.
Thanks for sharing Mardi Gras with me.
Table of Contents
THE PARADES WERE what Laura Jo Akins enjoyed most about the Mardi Gras season in Mobile, Alabama. This year was no different. She placed a hand on the thin shoulder of her eight-year-old daughter, Allie.
Her daughter smiled up at her. “When does the parade start?”
“It should already be moving our way. Listen. You can hear the band.”
The faint sound of a ragtime tune floated from the distance.
Allie looked up at Laura Jo. “Can we stay for the next one too?”
The sure thing about Mardi Gras was that the parades kept coming. The closer the calendar got to Fat Tuesday the more heavily the days were filled with parades. Sometimes as many as four a day on the weekends.
“No, honey. They’re expecting me at the hospital. We’ll watch this one and then we have to go.”
“Okay, but we get to see one another day, don’t we?”
“Maybe on Wednesday. Next Monday and Tuesday you’ll be out of school for a long weekend. We’ll be sure to watch more then.”
“Why can’t I be in one?” Allie asked, turning to look at Laura Jo.
It had been a constant question during last year’s Mardi Gras season and had become more demanding during this one. “Maybe when you get older. For now we’ll just have to watch.”
As the banner holders at the head of the parade came into sight the crowd pushed forward, forcing her and Allie against the metal barriers. A bicycling medical first responder or mobile EMT circled in front of them then rode up the street. He looked familiar for some reason but, then, most of the medical help during the carnival season were employed at the hospital where she worked. Dressed in red biking shorts and wearing a pack on his back, he turned again and pedaled back in their direction. Laura Jo squinted, trying to make out his features, but his helmet obscured her view.
Members of the medical community volunteered to work during Mardi Gras to help out with the crowds. Most of the nurses and doctors gave up their days off during the season to work the parades. It wasn’t required but many enjoyed being a part of the celebration. Laura Jo knew most of the employees at Mobile General, at least by face. Although she couldn’t place the rider, he looked just fine in his formfitting pants. He must bike regularly.
“Look, Mommy.” Allie pointed to a group of people who had come through the barriers and were entertaining the crowd standing on both sides of the street. They were dressed in clown-type outfits and were riding three-wheeled bikes with bright-colored fish attached to the side.
Laura Jo smiled down at her daughter. “That’s the Mystic Fish.”
They made a circle or two in the open parade area and then disappeared into the crowd across the street from her and Allie. Laura Jo knew from years of watching parades that they would appear somewhere else along the parade route.
“What’s a mystic fish?” Allie asked.
“You