Child of the Storm (25 page)

Many
had left the city. Many more remained to ride it out
—
as if Betsy had wheels. When the light
went out, the darkness gave the storm even greater power over someone sitting
in the darkness. Her great voice seemed all the greater to anyone alone. They
would know she would go by. She would have to, because that was her way
;
a wandering and restless giant. Her life would be fierce
but short. She couldn
’
t remain there forever, but it felt
like she could. Seconds like hours.

When
the storm waded in, she didn
’
t come alone. She
brought the Gulf in with her, crowding in on the river and the bay, parading
clear up Mr. Go toward the city, washing little islands as she went, flooding
the canals and lapping over the levees.
 
Once inside, the waters raced through the streets, filling up the low
spots then filling a bit more until they reached inside homes and chased people
upstairs, if they had a second floor to flee to. And many didn
’
t.

Water
slapped Celeste
’
s cheek and she woke at once to a dark
room filled with the sounds of movement. Outside, the storm was passing but not
yet passed away. Inside, the
flood waters
had come in
through every crack and joint and sloshed in through the hole where the window
had been
—
where she had fed the ghost to the
wind. It was dark and dangerous now.
This room she knew so
well had been invaded by the storm and the flood
.

Celeste
woke cleanly and completely. Though it was dark, it was still her room and she
knew where everything was, unless it had floated off. She crossed to the other
side of the bed and stepped down into the dark water, hoping there were no fish
or snakes lost nearby. With her hands outstretched, she found the ladder still
nailed where she had left it, and she climbed it to the attic. The air was
heavy with the smell of salt water and filth.

It
was even darker in the attic, if that was possible, and though her eyes couldn
’
t see anything but phantoms, her mind
saw clearly where she had left the thing she needed most. With the flashlight
switched on, the phantoms fled and she was sitting above her bedroom among the
rafters. Boxes were stashed here and
there,
full of
everything she thought was valuable and small enough to haul up with the rope
and pulley set above the open hatch. Much of it was her artwork. All safe,
provided the flood waters stopped rising in time.

She
knew how long it would be until dawn, even without a clock. The wind was less
fierce than earlier when she was locked in her struggle with the ghost. She lay,
stretched her length along boards spanning some of the ceiling joists like the
boards of a pier, and she stared down into the water swirling and lapping
around the ladder below. The little white circle of light from her flashlight
floated on the surface of the water and she watched it for some time to see if
the water was rising.
 
In the time
while she lay watching, it claimed only one more rung before it stopped
climbing. She watched it a while more until she felt sure it was done, and she
pushed back from the edge, switched off the light and slept.

When
she woke again, there was a pale light coming up from the room below, and the
sound of water
clop-clopping
against the walls. It was
morning, and it was hot in the attic. The air was wet and rank. She was stiff
and got to her feet, crawling so as not to strike her head against the rafters.
She worked her way toward the front of the attic and found the latch bolts
holding the little door over the porch roof tightly closed against the storm.
She opened it, squinting in the soft early light of the morning, and wondered
if she might still be dreaming. She had seen the water rising in her room and
knew that meant a flood, but even so, what her eyes looked out on now was a
sight her mind couldn
’
t wrap itself around. Part of it had to
do with how tired she was. A little had to do with looking out from a window up
so high. The rest had to do with seeing her neighborhood all roofs and water.
Her house was an island, as were all the houses she could see, and apart from
their roofs and the top half of walls, there wasn
’
t much else. Directly
across from her stood the little house of her neighbor
;
the old woman gone to stay with Aurore. And thank goodness for that! The house
stood lower than Celeste
’
s own and was drowned
almost half way up its windows. Celeste thought about what the old woman might
have gone through had she stayed there
—
alone
in the dark with the water rising
…

She
gasped at the sound of someone crying out nearby. Someone she couldn
’
t see. Then there were other more
distant voices also calling or maybe answering. Without thinking of what it was
she meant to do, Celeste crawled out through her little hatch onto the roof of
her porch. She edged out enough to look around to her neighbor
’
s house to her right and saw the man
and his wife perched miserably on their roof. It was the woman who was calling
out; calling the name of the old woman across the street while her husband
tried to keep her from getting too near the edge. Her neighbor spotted her.

“
Oh, Miss Dubois!
”
she cried.
“
I just can
’
t see or hear anything from Old Miss
Dee! I
’
m afraid she
’
s drowned in her house! Look at how low
it sits in the water!
”

“
Calm yourself,
”
Celeste said.
“
I had her go away with a friend
elsewhere in the city before the storm hit. A house with a second floor so she
should be safer than you and me.
”

That
did calm the woman for a moment and her husband continued to urge her to join
him at the ridge of the roof. But now she was freed up to worry more about her
own situation.

“
What are we going to
do, Miss
Dubois!
I
’
ve never seen such a
flood before. Maybe it
’
s God
’
s judgment!
”

“
More likely it was
the hurricane
’
s doing,
”
Celeste said.
“
The water
’
s jumped the levees.
”

“
We
’
ve lost everything,
”
the woman moaned as she edged backward
up the slope.

“
It
’
s not as bad as that,
”
Celeste called to her retreating
neighbor.
“
Maybe if we
’
d been drowned in our sleep you
’
d have a point. But I think the water
’
s come as high as it will for now and
let
’
s hope the city can pump it all out
again. It
’
ll be one huge mess, no doubt about it,
and I don
’
t look forward to the smell of the
house until it dries out good and proper. But for now, I
’
m just glad to be alive in the daylight.
”

Celeste
moved slowly to the other end of her porch roof and looked far down the street
that was now a canal. Somewhere out there, others had not come through the
storm alive. Here and there other voices called or cried. There was hammering,
but whether it was someone trying to break out through their roof or not, she
couldn
’
t tell. She thought of her people at
the bakery and hoped they had all come through the night and were seeing
daylight. Had the storm flooded only her little part of the city or
was it all taken in by the Lake
?

A
gull landed on the roof across the water and it tipped its head to look at her;
wondering if she might be planning to toss away some scraps it could scoop up
while the local fishing was scattered and undependable. It reminded Celeste
that she had put away some tins of this and that, just in case. With luck she
had set an opener aside as well. But for now she wasn
’
t hungry and sat with her back propped
against the wall beneath the gable and thought how she should have bought a little
boat to keep stashed away.

As
the day wore on, some people who were desperate, curious or helpful came wading
along the flooded street. Some she knew and asked news of and received some
back, but it was very limited and local. No one knew anything for certain
though there were rumors.

“
The whole city
’
s underwater,
”
said one man.

“
It
’
s only us down here beyond the Canal!
”
called another man who was very angry.
“
I heard they blew up the levee on our
side to send the water our way and keep it out of the French Quarter!
”

Some
were making their way to find family. Others looked to be hunting around for
opportunities to pick up whatever they could find of value that was left
behind. Celeste watched those folk like a hawk and they moved on once they saw
her. Small, flat bottomed fishing boats started to appear; mostly people
getting away with what little they could save, while others made the rounds
checking in on the old and offering to take them somewhere safer. Celeste waved
off those who offered her a space in the boat since she didn
’
t want to leave just yet. Not until she
knew how things stood with her own little family from the bakery. They would
know she was here. So would Aurore, who had said she would come around after
the storm. But looking at the tops of a few cars just barely peaking out above
the water, she knew there was no way for her to make it. This would be an
evacuation by boat.

Late
in the afternoon, Nathan, one of the young men from the bakery, appeared in his
boat; sliding up next to the posts of the front porch like he was drawing up to
a high pier.

“
Sorry to be so long
getting here, Miss Dubois,
”
he said.
“
You
’
re sort of the last
stop for those at the bakery who live anywhere close by. I figured if anyone
came through the storm okay it would be you.
”
He sagged a bit
against the edge of the roof. She could almost feel the exhaustion pouring off
him.
“
Can
’
t believe this has
happened.
”

“
Can
’
t believe it either, Nathan. What
’
s the word on everyone else?
”

“
Okay I guess.
Everyone
’
s safe, but Annie
’
s in a bad way over her grandmother.
Doesn
’
t look like she made it, though no one
’
s found her yet and they know she didn
’
t leave.
”

“
I hate to hear that,
”
Celeste said and thought again of her
old neighbor across the way.
“
This sort of thing
’
s bound to be hardest on the old people
and the housebound sick.
”

“
Yes ma
’
am. Just can
’
t believe it. Never happened before,
has it?
”

“
Not that I know of.
”

“
You want me to make
my way over to the bridge and see if I can get across to George? I can do that,
only I
’
m not sure I
’
d have a boat to come back to, if you
see what I mean.
”

“
I do. No, we
’
ll just wait to hear and hope someone
comes to get us soon. You have water and food that won
’
t go bad?
”
she asked.

“
Yes, ma
’
am, but what about you?
”

“
I
’
m fine here for a few days if that
’
s what it takes. But if you go out
paddling around tomorrow or the next day, you might drop by just to check in.
”