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 know what a fish is. In this case it’s a club or group of people. It’s also called a krewe. Because they meet in secret they are mystic or mysterious. It’s all just fun.”
“Are you in a queue?’
“It’s krewe. Like a crew member. And, no, I’m not.” She placed a hand on her daughter’s head. “I have you to take care of, work at the shelter and at the hospital. No time.”
Laura Jo understood being a member of a krewe. Her family had been participants all her life. In fact, they had been a part of the largest and most prestigious krewe in Mobile. She’d been one of the Mobile society that had celebrated her coming of age at carnival time. But no more.
The noise level increased as the first high-school band approached. She positioned Allie between her and the barrier so Allie could see. As the first ostentatiously decorated float rolled by the spectators pressed closer to them. The float was designed in a dragon motif and painted green, purple and gold with piles of beads hanging off pegs. Members of the krewe were dressed in costumes and wore masks.
She and Allie joined those around them in yelling, “Throw me something, mister.”
Raising their hands along with everyone else, she and Allie tried to catch the beads, plastic cups with the krewe name printed on them or stuffed animals that were being thrown from the float. Bands playing and music blaring from large speakers mounted on the floats made it difficult to hear.
One krewe member made eye contact with Laura Jo and pointed at Allie. He threw a small stuffed gorilla to Laura Jo, which she handed to Allie, who hugged it to her and smiled up at the grinning man. The float moved on.
When a strand of brightly colored beads flew through the air in Allie’s direction from the next float, Laura Jo reached to catch them. She couldn’t and they were snatched by the man standing behind her. He handed them to Allie. She smiled brightly at him. That was one of the special things about Mardi Gras in Mobile. It was a family affair. Any age was welcome and everyone saw that the children had a good time. Twenty minutes later a fire truck that signaled the end of the parade rolled by.
The man standing next to them shifted the barrier, creating an opening. A few people rushed through in an effort to snatch up any of the goodies that had fallen on the pavement.
“Mama, can I get those?” Allie pointed out into the street, now virtually empty except for a few children.
Laura Jo searched for what Allie was asking about. On the road lay a couple of plastic doubloons. “Sure, honey. There won’t be another parade for an hour.”
Allie ran through the opening and ran in the direction of the strand of gold and silver disks. In her exuberance to reach her target she stumbled and fell, stopping herself with her hands. Laura Jo gasped and rushed to her. Allie had already pushed herself up to a sitting position. Tears welled in her eyes but she’d not burst into sobs yet. There was an L-shaped hole in the thin material of her pants and a trickle of blood ran off the side of her knee.
“Oh, honey,” Laura Jo said.
“My hands hurt.” Allie showed Laura Jo her palms. The meaty part looked much like her knee.
“Friction burns.” Laura Jo took one of Allie’s wrists and raised her hand, blowing across it. Here she was a registered nurse with not a bandage to her name. Allie’s injuries were going to require far more than what Laura Jo was doing.
“Can I help here?” a deep male voice said from above them.
Laura Jo glanced up to see the bike medic she’d admired earlier. She’d been so adsorbed with Allie she’d not noticed him ride up.
“Do you have any four-by-fours? Some antibiotic cream?” Laura Jo asked.
The man gave her a curious look then stepped off the bike. He slung the red pack off his back and crouched down on his haunches. “Let me see what I can do.”
Laura Jo looked at him through moisture in her eyes. She knew him. Or more accurately knew who he was. Mark Clayborn. She’d had no idea he was back in town. But, then, why would she? “If you’ll just share your supplies I can handle it. I’m her mother and a nurse.”
“I appreciate that but I need to treat your daughter since it happened at the parade. I’ll have to make a report anyway.”
She gave him room. Years ago she’d been very enamored of Mark Clayborn. Just young enough to hero worship him, she’d often dreamed of “what if” when he’d glanced her way. Which he never had, unless it had been to smile at the gaggle of young maids in his queen’s court. He’d had it all. Good looks, social status, education and a bright future. And to top it off he’d been Mardi Gras King that year. Every girl had dreamed of being on his arm and she’d been no different. She had watched him so closely back then no wonder he seemed familiar.
Allie winced when he touched the angry skin of her knee.
Laura Jo’s hands shook. As an emergency room nurse she’d seen much worse, but when it came to her own child it was difficult to remain emotionally detached. Still, she should be the one caring for Allie. She’d been her sole caretaker and provider since her daughter’s father had left Laura Jo when she was three months pregnant. Having been pushed aside before, she didn’t like it any better now than she had then. No matter how irrational the reaction.
“So what’s your name, young lady?” Mark asked Allie.
She told him.
“So, Allie, what have you liked best about Mardi Gras this year?”
Allie didn’t hesitate to answer. “King Cake.”
He nodded like a sage monk giving thought to the answer. “I like King Cake, too. What’s your favorite? Cinnamon or cream cheese?”
“Cinnamon.”
“I’m a fan of cream cheese. So have you ever found the baby?”
“Yeah, once. I had to take a cake to school the next week.”
“So you baked one?”
“No, my mother did.” She pointed at Laura Jo.
Mark glanced at her with a look of respect but there was no sign of recognition. Even though their families had known each other for years he didn’t remember her. The last she’d really heard, he’d been in a bad car accident and had later left for medical school.
“You mom didn’t get it from a bakery?”
“No. She likes to make them.” Allie smiled up at Laura
