Child of the Storm (22 page)

“
What
’
s it like down that road to the west?
”
George asked.

“
Can
’
t speak to that way,
”
he confessed.
“
Doesn
’
t look too bad,
except for the church and that wrathful steeple. But there
’
s two yonder that could tell you,
assuming you can speak to ghosts.
”
He jerked his head
toward the field beyond, out toward the tall magnolia tree.
“
They drifted through yesterday late and
looked like ones who
’
d been through hell. Most likely had
been and trying to find a way back. Ghosts always try to get back. Well, every
door in town was closed against them, as you might expect. So I cleared out
from where I
’
d taken shelter the night before. I
moved out and they moved in. Spent my night under the stars. Funny how bright
the stars can be on the heels of a storm like that.
”

“
Did you speak to
them?
”
Celeste asked, as she climbed down
from the truck, leaving her shoes behind and almost shoving Aurore out, as if
there was
an urgency
.

“
No point in talking
to a ghost. But that
’
s just me.
”
He spoke to Celeste as she wandered
out into moist dirt of the road and studied the field.

“
Soft ground,
”
they heard her say.
“
Too soft for the truck I guess.
”
It was like she was speaking to
herself. Her toes worked the mud. Fresh blooms were sprinkled among the dark
leaves of the magnolia.
Like familiar stars in a night sky.
“
I love the smell of magnolia blooms. So
comforting.
”

“
It
’
s the smell of those blooms that draws
a ghost in,
”
old man said.
“
A heavenly smell, magnolia is.
Just heavenly.
Suppose that what draws them. You suppose?
”

“
Maybe so
”
, Celeste said, still gazing at the
bloom covered and scented tree out across the muddy field. Her eyes tracked
along a faint line, little more than parallel smudges across the sagging grass.
Right to where Celeste stood. She was looking straight down now
;
between her own bare feet where the ghost of a depression
held a thin film of standing water.
A footprint between her
feet and pointing out to the magnolia tree.

This is no time to go drifting off into
some less than useful frame of mind, she told herself. Only half the day gone
but it feels like a week at hard labor. We
’
re
here for a reason and not to entertain an old character of the open road, or
gawk at tumbled bells like some tourist in the Quarter, or dwell too long on
the lovely smell of blooms. We
’
re
here for a purpose. We
’
re
here to find Aurore
’
s
missing family. Here to collect those poor twins and take them somewhere safe.

She
sensed Aurore at her side.

“
What is it Celeste?
”

“
I can
’
t seem to move from the spot. Think I
’
m fine, but I need you to go out to
that tree.
”

Aurore
set off without question, across the field and disappeared among the branches
of the magnolia and time passed under the climbing sun before she pushed back
through again leading two young women. Identical twins. No one else followed
them.

The
old man removed his hat to let the breeze flow over his bare scalp.
“
Well that
’
s something. Almost like
the Lord and Lazarus.
”

The
twins weighed on Aurore
’
s arm until George
could reach them to help. They settled the girls into the back of the truck,
where they seem to drop back into sleep, though a sleep that could as well have
been death, as still and tormented as they lay there. Celeste emerged from her
state of mind and followed.

“
I swear to every myst
è
re I could name, it
’
s a wonder to me how you knew to bring
us here. Knew it or felt it,
”
Aurore whispered to
Celeste as George sought out a blanket of sorts he had stuffed into the truck
cab.
“
These girls lost both their parents in
a flash flood, and it
’
s a miracle they survived at all.
Wouldn
’
t have for long, if you hadn
’
t led us here. We need to get them back
to New Orleans as quick as we can. I
’
ll figure out what to
do by the time we get there.
”

“
You sure you can get
us back home?
”
George asked Celeste.
“
I can
’
t be sure that I
could.
”
He spread the blanket over the girls.

“
I can get us home,
”
Celeste said. George climbed in and
Aurore went round to the back to be with the twins. The old man stood outside
Celeste
’
s open window, holding his loaf of
day-old bread.

“
Hop in the back,
”
George called from his side.
“
We can take you as far as New Orleans
if you want.
”

“
Thank you, no,
”
he said.
“
I
’
ll stay here a while
longer now the storm is gone. Someone
’
s got to haunt this
town now you
’
re taking away its ghosts.
”

Celeste
did bring them back out again, never missing a turn, guided by landmarks large
and small, and by the angle of the sun.
“
Navigating like a
bee,
”
George later said of it to
others.
 

When
she wasn
’
t needed for navigating or the rare
call for conversation from George, who seemed to have all he could manage
driving and sorting through all that they
’
d seen that day,
Celeste drifted away into thoughts of how she might be able to take the twins
in, give them her father
’
s empty room and
bring them along at the bakery
—
give
them a new life and a living.

But
that wouldn
’
t be.
“
New Orleans will be too
much for them,
”
Aurore explained at a stop half way
home.
“
They have family in Hattiesburg, a
smaller town where they can heal and get their feet under them again. You
understand, don
’
t you? It needs to be this way.
”
She was a sensitive woman like
Celeste. Had to be to do what she did.

Celeste
did understand, and she let it go.

“
What will you do with
the time you spend keeping me company after I pass on?
”
Odette asked as she held out a book
she wanted read to her.

Celeste
took it and moved her chair right up close so she could rub Odette
’
s arthritic hand while managing the
book with her other.
“
If I was one to gamble, I would put my
money on you being the last one standing. I thought that was your job.
”

“
Not my job, child. I
think I
’
ve done about all the work there is in
me to do.
”

“
You love New Orleans
too much to leave it.
”
Celeste left the book lying unopened,
sensing there was a need for talk first.

“
She has fed me all my
life. Filled me up and carried me forward. That is true. But I can
’
t give her back as much as I used to. I
can
’
t get out there and keep up with all
she
’
s doing either. At some point I
’
ll just step aside and make room for
others who can. I
’
ll just take my memories and go. You
could take my place here and spread out a bit. Think of all these walls filling
up with your art.
”

“
My house suits me.
”

“
I know about
attachment,
”
Odette said.
“
Not a bad thing, but not always for the
best either. You know I didn
’
t agree with your
father
’
s choice of where to build that house.
”

“
You didn
’
t like that he built on the other side
of the Canal.
”

“
I didn
’
t like that, no. But mostly I didn
’
t like that he built on land that was
low, even in a low lying city.
”

“
Flossy didn
’
t do too much out my way,
”
Celeste said, but not to shut the
subject up. Odette might be old, but she still had a sharp mind.
Sharp from sound use.

“
Nor here either, but
I
’
m on high ground the river made. Any
water that falls here flows to the lower ground and makes its way to the canals
for pumping out. Flossy passed to the east far enough to slosh water in and do
a little damage. Audrey was worse, but kept well off to the west. What if
another falls in between, like it did in 1915?
”

Celeste
never mentioned her trip out into the aftermath of Audrey and wouldn
’
t confess it now.
“
That was a bad one. You told me, but
not until I was older. I guess you didn
’
t want to scare me
then.
”

“
And that
’
s not what I want to do now, but it was
the worst in my lifetime. Blew down buildings, tore things up, killed people,
and it shoved lake water right up the canals after the pumps went out.
Flooded parts of Mid City.
Winds are bad, but the waters are
worse. Especially for those who live in the low parts, and you have a lot of
company there.
”

“
That
’
s true. So should I leave because it
’
s not safe? Maybe sell it to someone
else
—
so they won
’
t be safe there?
”
She stroked Odette
’
s hand.
“
I know you
’
re still trying to look after me, like
you always have.
”

“
Well, don
’
t be surprised if I bring it up again.
That
’
s the way I am, and I know a bit about
how things work
—
where there
’
s money to be made. People have ideas,
and sometimes those are good ideas and sometimes they
’
re only good for the ones who have
them. The wisest men can
’
t always tell the
difference between the two, and can find themselves led down a bad road. Snake
oil salesmen come in all sizes. The bigger they are the more harm is done from
taking the tonic.
”

“
Sounds like you have
a tonic in mind,
”
Celeste said.
“
Maybe one I should know about?
”

“
There is another
Ditch
being dug.
A big ditch to tie in to the last one.
This
one will be longer. I
’
ve seen a map.
”

“
I
’
ve heard,
”
Celeste said.
“
Dredging through the wetlands for
ships.
”

“
I just don
’
t like ditches that big. They can bring
in more than ships.
”
She closed her eyes as Celeste
continued to stroke the ache from her hand. Like she
’
d done for her father.

Celeste
stroked Odette
’
s long
life line
.
A deep line crossed by many smaller ones.

“
You
’
ve never told me your story,
”
she said to her aunt.

“
That
’
s because it
’
s all written down. The only way I
could be sure the story stayed straight and wouldn
’
t wander in the telling.
”

“
Are you going to let
me read it?
”

“
Not till after I
’
m gone.
”
She tipped her head
toward the bookshelves.
“
It
’
s up there with all the other books I
own, but I can
’
t recall exactly where. If you
’
re interested, you can find it when the
time comes
—
assuming you
’
re still interested.
”
Her attention lingered on the books
—
on
her
Book.
“
Your mother called you her child of the
storm.
”

“
Yes she did.
”

“
Since a child of the
storm you are, and a child so often in their path, how much do you truly
know
about hurricanes?
”

“
About what most
people know, I guess,
”
Celeste said, being modest.

Odette
huffed.
“
That
’
s precious little.
”

“
I suppose so.
”

“
Do you still accept
me as one of your teachers?
”

“
Always have and
always will.
”

“
That
’
s good, because I have someone I want
you to meet.
Someone who can broaden your understanding of
hurricanes.
He knows who you are, though I doubt you would know him in
return.
A customer of yours and an acquaintance of mine.
A climatologist. Nice white gentleman.
”

“
So I
’
ll finally get some white schooling.
”
 
She teased Odette, but thought of the ghost.

“
Insights from a nice,
knowledgeable man, on your own turf. He
’
ll come to Dubois
’
since he knows where it is. Pay him
for his time with something he likes.
 
He
’
s a loyal customer. But learn what you
can.
”

Celeste
arrived early at Dubois
’
, slipping in through
the back before the front door was opened. George was there early too and
annoyingly curious about why she wanted to meet the man he already knew but
didn
’
t realize
she
knew. Celeste kept him in the dark, calling on her prerogative.

“
He
’
s a climatologist,
”
George said to her as she eyed the
racks of loaves.

“
Hmm,
”
she said.

“
He knows about
hurricanes.
”

“
Is that so?
”
She moved on to observe one of the younger
employees stock the shelves.

“
He showed me how to
track hurricanes from the coordinates.
”

“
Then I guess it
’
s a good thing I call you when there
’
s one about.
”

One
of the staff waved to George, calling him over.
“
I
’
ll let you know when I see him come in,
”
he said and left her.

Celeste
sized him up; a relaxed and pleasant enough looking middle aged gentleman, thin
at the top and a bit thicker around the middle. A good customer indeed, and he
recognized her.

“
Miss Dubois? I
’
m Mr. Cooper. Have I come at a bad
time? Odette said you were an early riser too.

“
Always have been,
”
she said, and invited him to head back
outside where the small caf
é
table sat.
“
It will be quieter out here.
”

“
So, what would you
like to know about hurricanes, Miss Dubois? Do you want the whole dry and
technical truth, or just the big picture
—
my
nickel tour for laymen?
”

“
I don
’
t want to impose too much on your time,
Mr. Cooper, but mostly, I
’
d like a better
understanding about what shapes them. What makes them behave as they do.
”

           
“
You want to know what you
’
re up against.
”

“
Something
like
that. Living here, you think you know, but mostly you don
’
t. So why not start where you think
best.
”

Old
Mr. Douglas was back in the bakery for decent bread and Celeste intercepted him
on his way out; invited him to join her at the little caf
é
table. Mr. Douglas accepted because
there was shade and Celeste sweetened the offer with lemonade.

She
laid out a small map of the city she
’
d been augmenting
with strokes of watercolor. Green brush-strokes ran along the river, the lake
and around the Canal. A broader red line stretched east from the middle of the
Canal toward Lake
Borgne
then southeast toward the
Gulf.

“
I had a nice long
conversation with a man who studies hurricanes, Mr. Douglas. Learned a good bit
about what makes them tick and the sort of mischief they could work on us here.
Some time back you said there were levees you didn
’
t feel good about. Now I may not have
all these levees right, but I think I have most of them colored in, at least on
this side of town. Just curious if you could show me some of those you liked
less than others. Ones your feet told you weren
’
t all they ought to
be.
”

Mr.
Douglas rolled the cool glass between his hands and eyed the map, especially
the long red line. He eyed it for a good while before replying.
“
I
’
ve seen a lot of
things in life, Miss Dubois, but you want to know the worst thing I ever saw?
”