Child of the Storm (21 page)

The old man approached the counter,
digging deep in an uncooperative pocket for money, which he finally caught and pulled
free.

“
We haven
’
t seen you lately,
Mr. Douglas.
”
Annie asked.
“
You want your usual?
”

“
The usual,
”
he said, slapping his coins down on
the counter under his wrinkled hand like he was ordering a shot of whiskey.

“
Did your place come through the storm
okay, Mr. Douglas?
”
Celeste asked. He was one of their
oldest and most loyal customers, though not the biggest spender.

“
Came through fine this go round, Miss
Dubois. Next time, might not be so lucky.
Feet of clay, Miss
Dubois.
Feet of clay.
”

“
What do you mean by that, Mr. Douglas?
”

“
You know your Book of Daniel?
”

“
Not as well as I probably should, Mr.
Douglas.
”

He raised his old chestnut chin toward
the ceiling to pontificate.
“
Pharaoh dreamed of a
fine statue with head of gold, body of bronze and all manner of grandeur down
to the feet, but the feet, Miss Dubois, the feet were partly of iron and partly
of clay.
”

“
Doesn
’
t sound like a proper
footing for a fine statue, Mr. Douglas.
”

The old man pointed a shaky finger at
her and nodded.
“
Just so, Miss Dubois.
”
He dropped his voice to a harsh
whisper as he leaned in toward her across the counter. She leaned toward him to
receive the confidence.

“
Tried out some of the bread somewhere
else. Only
‘
cause it was a little cheaper, and I
’
m not a rich man.
”

“
Rich in other ways, Mr. Douglas,
”
Celeste offered.

“
That
’
s so. But I
’
m back here
‘
cause that other bread wasn
’
t worth even what they charged for it.
Was fine to look at, but not worth eating. Like dust in my mouth.
”

“
I
’
m sorry to hear that,
Mr. Douglas. Glad to have you back.
”

He leaned in closer still.
“
Like the levees, Miss Dubois. They may
look just fine, but you can
’
t go by that. All in
how they
’
re built.
”

“
Have to know what you
’
re doing and don
’
t cut corners,
”
Celeste agreed, drawing the old man
out.
“
Same with bread and levees alike. Some
levees in particular you don
’
t like?
”

“
Guess I like the river levees. She laid
down her own. Did you know that? Only she just builds high enough to manage for
a time, until she floods and lays down a bit more. Still, she
’
s laid down a decent start for us to
build on. No, it
’
s some of these others I don
’
t trust. I walk
‘
em
sometimes and can feel it
’
s not right down
there. Can feel it in my feet.
”

“
Like a water dowser?
”
she asked.

“
Maybe so,
”
he nodded.
“
Only finding water in New Orleans is no
big trick. Water
’
s always coming in and going out. Just
don
’
t want it taking a levee with it.
”

“
Wouldn
’
t want that, Mr.
Douglas.
”

He turned and shuffled off toward the
door.
“
Came through Flossy just fine, Miss
Dubois, and thanks for asking. Hopefully I
’
ll make it to my
reward in a nice dry bed before those levees get tested too hard.
”

“
That
’
s a funny old man,
”
Annie said.

Celeste didn
’
t think it was that funny.

The following Saturday, she stood
across the street from her house with George and a young handyman he knew named
Miguel. His old truck was parked nearby, the back of it loaded with the tools
of his trade
;
ladders, saws and such. She gestured
toward the face of her house, drawing in the air as she squinted.

“
I need a window above the roof of the
porch, up where the roof makes a triangle,
”
she explained.
“
Not even a window really, just a hatch
I can open from the inside.
”

“
What do you need it for,
”
George asked.
“
You putting a room up there? Doesn
’
t look like there would be roof enough
to stand up in.
”

“
A sitting room then,
”
she jabbed.
“
No, I don
’
t need a proper room,
just an attic space with a way out across the porch roof.
”

Miguel nodded.
“
If a flood comes.
”

“
If a flood comes,
”
she repeated.
“
Flossy wasn
’
t much, but worse could follow and I
’
d hate to be chased up into the attic
and have nowhere to go if the water kept rising.
”

“
You think that
’
s likely?
”
George asked.

“
Likely doesn
’
t figure into it. Unless someone I
trust tells me it could never happen, I
’
d rather be safe than
sorry. Rather not find myself trapped by rising water and wishing I
’
d taken a precaution to save myself.
”

For her own safekeeping, she
’
d done what she could. For the sake of
the day-to-day need for bread and friendship, she did what she could do there
too.
Some days better than others.
She made no fuss
over the doing of these day-to-day things.
All in a day
’
s
work.
All for the good of anyone who might benefit, as she benefited
from all those unsung day-to-day things they did as well.

But when there was time for her to slip
away to that other world where the bear with its kind eyes waited, she would do
so without a backward glance, knowing the chores and friends of her tangible
world would be right where she left them when she came back again.

There were wide and deep connections to
sense out, and she wasn
’
t getting any younger
—
whatever the bear might say.

The
storm season of 1957 was still young, not quite out of June when Hurricane
Audrey tore into the coast west of New Orleans, landing between Louisiana and
Texas like she meant to drive a wedge. Warnings went out, but Audrey jumped the
schedule and showed up early, catching many in their sleep.
A
surprise to most, but not to Celeste.

In
the two and a half years or so since Flossy inspired her to dig deeper into her
rarer
talents, she had explored the language of the
air. Like a baby
’
s first words, maybe so, but a starting
point on a road she could see no end to. Only Aurore noticed any difference.
Pointed out whenever Celeste offered up a casual reading of the weather, but
increasingly, readings about people too. Chance encounters and dear old friends
alike.

“
Like knowing of your
old friend John Stone
’
s passing, before word could make it
here.
”

“
So glad I saw him
that last time, thanks to you.
”

“
Some day, I think we
should swap callings,
”
Aurore said. But Celeste just shook
her head at that.

From
her porch Celeste had seen the distant darkness that was Audrey, then stood out
back as the
far flung
bands of light rain drifted
through New Orleans
—
the wet fingertips of the hurricane.
The wind was fresh but not strong enough to pull the leaves from trees, much
less the roofs from houses. Not in New Orleans.

Later,
she felt anxious but couldn
’
t put her finger on
why that was until Aurore phoned and made it clear.

“
You remember my
family we visited years back?
”
said the voice of
Aurore.

“
Your niece and the
little twins,
”
Celeste said.

“
Everyone is accounted
for but them. There
’
s been no word.
”
There was a silence that Celeste would
not interrupt.
“
You said Audrey would come in early. I
remember you saying it and I didn
’
t do anything about
it.
”

“
What could you have
done?
”

“
Maybe nothing. But I
need to do something now. I need to go out there and see if I can find them. I
need you to come with me, if you will.
”

“
You know I will.
Likely to be bad out that way and the roads in a mess.
If I
go, I
’
ll want to take George and his truck.
”

“
That would ease my
mind, Celeste. You think George will come.
”

“
He will. I know
George. We
’
ll be around as soon as I can pull him
together. So be ready.
”

They
rolled out of New Orleans early, splitting the dark with high beams, the three
of them packed into the cab of George
’
s old but reliable
truck. He had grabbed up what day-old bread he could from the bakery and
stashed it in the back in case they found folk needing something to eat
—
or if they needed it themselves should
the truck give out in an untimely way and some unfortunate place.

By
the time the sun was pushing up toward the horizon, there was enough light to
see evidence of the storm. Leaves littered the road and there was the
occasional pine tree toppled over. Celeste knew they were bad about that,
because their wood was weaker and their roots more shallow than an oak
’
s. In soft soil or sand, a lone pine
left to face heavy rain and a heavy blow was easy prey for a storm. You could
see them even this far from landfall, toppled to the ground with half of their
desperate roots clawing at the air like dead and helpless fingers.

They
tried road after road only to find them blocked by trees or broken by sections
washed clean away. Some small bridges were gone or so feeble looking that they
dared not cross. All of this pushed them north of the path they had wanted to
take; the path to find Aurore
’
s missing family.

Each
time they came to a fork in the road, Aurore would ask Celeste which way to go
and each time, Celeste had an opinion. Aurore never challenged it, nor did
George.

Audrey
had been fast and savage. In broad areas, the landscape was like a nightmare;
stretches of it leveled and coated in a monotonous grit. The scale of it was
hard to grasp.
A world turned inside out and head over heels.
The human side of life made to look small and feeble.

They
came upon a family standing in a silent group outside their smashed house as
the mother ran frantically this way and that, into the house and back out again
as she desperately searched for Billy and called his name, over and over again.
The roof of the house was askew, and in one place there appeared to be a sheet
hanging half in and half out of the house
—
between
the roof and the walls, where it had been pinned when the roof lifted up and
the sheet was sucked out through the gap.

George
went to help the woman look, but something about the scene looked wrong to
Celeste. She and Aurore went over to the silent family members who looked
exhausted, unable or unwilling to help in the search for Billy. They watched
George and they watched Billy
’
s mother as she ran
here and there, heedless of his offers to help.

“
Nothing you can do
here,
”
a man said to Celeste before she could
say a word. He didn
’
t even look at her.
“
Her son Billy
’
s been dead for two years, but she won
’
t listen. Guess this storm made
something snap.
”

Aurore
left it to Celeste to decide what to do, but Celeste agreed there was nothing
much they
could
do. They collected George and left the family a little
bread before setting off again.

There
were other such encounters, but likewise, little to be done, since it was just
the three of them with nothing more than a little bread to offer. They even
found a horse standing in the road, with a goat lying beneath it in the shade
of the horse
’
s broad belly. No injuries they could
see except for evidence of a shock to the mind of each and a need for peace to
sort it all out. There was grass and water in the ditch so they went around.

At
the westernmost reach of their journey they came to a sight that Celeste
recognized all too well, and a deep chill ran through her in spite of the heat
of the day. The road was impassable, buried under stacked tree trunks and
splintered branches, as if giants wielding scythes had mowed it. To left and
right, the carved path of the tornado stretched as far as they could see, and
if anything or anyone lay beneath that tangled deadfall of wood, there would be
no telling. It was absolutely still and silent
—
like
some awful snapshot.
No sign of life apart from the three of
them looking through the windshield.
Celeste considered a while before
sending them back toward a turn south, farther back the way they
’
d just come, saying how she
’
d been mistaken bringing them this way,
and apologizing.

In
the end, they came to a crossing in the road, to a town called Elysium though
it hardly seemed to warrant a name, small as it was. But there it was, spelled
out on a tilted sign by the road. A few buildings loitered around the
intersection itself; none of them very close to each other since this was the
countryside. Set at an angle to the roads so that it had a bit of yard for
parking was a combination General Store, Gas Station and Post Office, its front
end compromised by the storm in a most indirect and curious way.

“
Well what do you make
of that?
”
Aurore asked as they came to a slow
stop across from the ruined store.

The
trees around the area, some of them large, looked as if they had come through
the storm well enough, but the same couldn
’
t be said for the
other prominent building near the crossroads, just back of the store. The
church had been cleanly topped, its steeple blown off and the steep roof of it
lay crumpled like a dunce
’
s cap in the field across
the road. The rest of the steeple, the parts where the bell and the bats lived,
had gone to ground through the roof of the store, and the bell itself had torn
clean through the store like round shot, ripping a ragged hole through the
flimsy doors and windows. It now lay at the edge of the cracked pavement like a
plow at day
’
s end.

“
I think it would have
been something to see,
”
Celeste said.
“
Assuming you weren
’
t standing in the wrong spot.
”
She laid a hand on George
’
s as he went to change gears and
turn
. Stopped him from setting off west, which is how she
’
d been inclined to take them next. Now,
she wasn
’
t so sure.

The
sight of the store and the church and the bell was so captivating they hadn
’
t at once notice the old man beside the
road, just outside Aurore
’
s window; a man so
dusty that he blended with his surroundings like a chameleon.

“
Morning ma
’
am,
”
he croaked.
“
Or is it afternoon?
”
He shielded his eyes and looked to the
sky.

“
Morning, I think,
”
George replied.
“
What happened here?
”

“
Judgment,
”
said the old man.
“
Judgment pure and simple.
”
He leveled a gnarled finger at the
store.
“
I stopped in there on the evening
before the storm came through. Asked for any old bit of food or drink they
might have for a poor and wandering soul, and was shown the door. Didn
’
t dare push on that night, knowing what
was coming and all. Weathered the wind and the pouring rain under that great
magnolia over yonder. Couldn
’
t see what happened
but the sound of it told well
enough.
When I woke the
next morning there it was as you see, only there was all these tins of food
scattered out in the road and beyond.
”
He reached inside
his coat pocket.
“
And this was just lying in the mud like
a sign.
”
He produced a can opener.
“
Now I
’
m a man of simple
means and simpler needs, so I only picked up those tins of things that looked
dented, and only as many as would set quietly in my pockets. As for the rest,
the shop keeper gathered those up himself.
”

“
But that
’
s been two nights ago,
”
Aurore said.
“
You
’
ve just been sitting
here since then?
”

“
No ma
’
am. I get up and stretch my legs from
time to time and do what
’
s called for, but the
road can be short on entertainment, so I
’
m parked here a while
to enjoy the show.
”

“
I can
’
t see how there could be much of a
show,
”
George said.

“
Power
’
s out all through these parts since the
storm dropped the lines,
”
said the old man.
“
It goes dark at night, except for the
old lanterns. No one got hurt in the storm and most of the houses are standing,
at least the way I came.
”

“
And which way was
that?
”
Aurore asked.

He
pointed down the road coming up from the south.
“
But you
’
ll not get through that way, if you
’
re thinking of trying. Only way in or
out is on foot until the crews go in with saws.
”