Child of the Storm (26 page)

“
I
’
ll do that.
”
He left her and paddled his small boat
back the way he had come.

As
the sun climbed higher, Celeste went back inside her attic and found it was
bearable as long as her little window remained open. Cooler, damp air flowed up
through the hatch in the ceiling. She edged down the ladder but the water would
have been up above her waist inside her room so she went down to the rung where
her she was ankle deep in the water and she went no further. Clinging to the
ladder, she could see her room completely but the water was greenish brown and
murky. Her bed and dresser were somewhere down there, maybe with a fish or two
for all she knew. With care and a good stretch, she could lean across to the
open transom of her bedroom door and see much of the main room. But there was
little to be seen but water.

The
tree between the houses had gashed open the side of her bedroom, mostly where
the window was, but it didn
’
t look as bad in the
daylight as it had the night before
—
when
she had battled with the ghost. She half expected to see some scrap of the old
teacher
’
s tattered dress hanging in the
branches that lay in a tangle outside.

“
That
’
ll be a mess to clear away before I can
have the window fixed,
”
she said to herself.
“
But for now at least it should keep
anyone or anything prowling about from getting inside.
”

Fresh
air was coming through freely enough, rippling the surface of the water in her
room. As the fresh air pressed in, some rose up through the hatch and out
through her attic window, like a chimney.
“
Maybe it won
’
t be too stifling to sleep tonight,
”
she said.

As
the sun dropped, she went back out to her porch roof and learned what she could
of how people had fared and heard what fresh rumors were spreading of
conditions in the wider city. For every report that said one thing, there was
often another that said the exact opposite, so she settled on believing only
what the person had seen for themselves. Somewhere not far off, someone was
crying pitifully, but the water did strange things to sound and Celeste couldn
’
t be sure where the person was or how
close. She saw more and more people wading down the street, going to find a dry
shelter, and suggesting she do the same. But she waved them on, thanking them
for their thoughts and wishing them well. If it came to launching out to find
help, she would do that at first light instead of late in the day. The thought
of being out in the flooded streets at nightfall made her shudder.

She
ate a cold meal from a tin and drank just enough of her store of water to wash
it down before the night came on. And a darker night she couldn
’
t remember, reaching back to her
childhood before they had the magic of electricity and had only the older magic
of fire. But now she made do without either, and more stars than she remembered
ever shining now shone over her drowned neighborhood. Betsy had taken her
clouds inland and left the sky clear.
  

With
her back to the wall, she noted the stillness once darkness settled, but that
wouldn
’
t hold for long. Anger and fear pulsed
out from islands, still inhabited
—
some
by the ghosts of the recently dead. The press of that all around worked on her,
when she could offer no help. Made her withdraw. For distraction, she studied
the stars to see what patterns she might find, just as she liked to do with
clouds, or the grain of wood, or the brown baked crust on bread. With so many
new stars to see, there were more pictures to see. There were stars so fine and
so near one another that they almost couldn
’
t be seen for
themselves as individual points; not if you looked straight at them. They were
like shimmering fabric or a fine wash of pearliness against the black of the
void. And when they truly began to flow across the sky as if guided by an
artist
’
s brush, then Celeste knew she had let
herself flow off into a dream state.

“
What does it mean?
”
asked the bear.

“
I can
’
t be sure, but I think it means I
’
ve got work to do if I want to keep
this from happening again.
 
Aurore
was right. I wasn
’
t ready to do what I
’
d hoped to do. I learned some things,
listening to Betsy and being there to feel her pass. Things I couldn
’
t have seen or felt watching from far
off. Not that I mean to repeat the experience.
”

“
And you
’
ve thrown off the ghost,
”
the bear offered.

“
Maybe I have,
”
Celeste said.
“
A long time coming, but more than
welcome. I feel up to almost anything now.
”

In
the morning, she was pulled out of sleep by familiar voices calling her name.

“
Miss Dubois, are you
in there?
”
A man
’
s
voice.

“
Celeste!
”
called a woman.
“
I
’
ve been through
enough without having to wade in there to bring you out! Wake up and show
yourself!
”

Celeste
woke with difficulty and fumbled over to the closed hatch in the half-light of
the attic. It was already uncomfortably hot and she couldn
’
t remember having closed the window
behind herself. So when she threw open the hatch, the light was dazzling and
the hot air poured out. She squinted and shielded her eyes from the brightness
as she climbed out onto the roof of her porch. She found George and Aurore in
one boat and Nathan in another.

“
I told you she was
alright,
”
Nathan was saying.

Celeste
sat at the edge of the roof and smoothed out her wrinkled dress. She yawned
enormously and wiped the last of the sleep from her eyes.

“
Here the world is all
but drowned and you
’
re sleeping late,
”
Aurore said.

“
We
’
ve come to take you out of here,
”
George explained in a tone that
suggested there would be no arguments.

But
Celeste
was
arguing.
“
What about everyone
else? Are they finding a way out?
”

“
It
’
s no use waiting for the water to go
down,
”
George said.
“
Might be days more or even a week I
hear. People are making their way out, or at least to dry shelters. You and
Nathan are the last ones from the bakery still here, and he
’
s leaving too, once you leave with us.
I
’
m taking you back with me to your aunt
’
s house. She
’
s been worried stiff.
”

“
That
’
s something I
’
d want to see with my own eyes,
”
Celeste replied.

“
Then you
’
ll need to get a move on, friend,
”
Aurore said.
“
You
’
ve been the good
captain but it
’
s time to leave the sinking ship.
Collect what you need to bring along but mind the size of this boat. We can
’
t handle much.
”

Something
passed overhead, churning the air with its great rotor, drifting over the
rooftops like a loud and bloated dragonfly.
Loud and drab,
but a hopeful sight none-the-less.
Nathan was pointing to the helicopter
and yelling to be heard over it.

“
The army or the
Guard,
”
he shouted.
“
Maybe hauling folks out or hauling food
in.
”

“
So there
’
s help coming?
”
Celeste called.

“
I would hope so,
”
Aurore said.

Celeste
crouched at the bow and watched the water, an unhealthy looking soup full of
the filth from a city and the churned up muck from lake and canal. The thought
of wading through it made her stomach turn, but there were plenty out there
doing just that. Mostly, they had no choice. And she thought too how this same
water was even now standing in her own house. The cleaning up would drag on and
on. Best not to think about that until it was time.

Celeste
watched as a rainbow colored slick of oil drifted by. Later, there was the body
of a cat, stiff and swollen, and for one frightening instant she thought she
glimpsed a face below the water, a pale, pained face that brought the ghost to
mind, but then it was gone; whatever it might have been. Though she had slept
long and deeply during the night, she felt tired, and the sunlight reflecting
on the water hurt her eyes. But she kept her watch until they reached the landing.

Betsy
left her mark in many ways; almost as many ways as there were people she
touched. People died in the storm and the flood, some moved away after it was
over. They
’
d had enough or had nothing left to
keep them there. New Orleans took her licks and picked herself back up again.
She was good at that. She had to be.

The
bakery was mostly untouched and that made it easier for Celeste to concentrate
on her own house, which was a mess. The pumps took the water back out within a
few days on her street, but the flood left a calling card that was hard to
throw out. Mud and all manner of filth coated the inside of her home, leaving a
foul waterline that resisted cleaning, like a bad memory resists forgetting.
Much was discarded, and what was left required washing and sweeping and days
and days worth of drying air, flowing in from the windows and out through the
attic hatch.
Slow, slow work that drained her of vitality and
cheer.

She
was at low ebb when she spilled a bucket of soapy water accidentally and that
one simple thing set her temper loose. She flew about the room, flinging
whatever came to hand. Hurricane Celeste raged. The language was skillful and
blistering. Nothing of the sort had burst out of her since she was a child, and
she wielded her mop like a broadsword, slaying innocent dishware on the table
and at least one guilty fly on the wall before flinging the mop away to strike
a wet thud against the front door, slamming it closed. She followed it there,
snatching the door back open again and striding out onto her porch where she
meant to scream out the most vile words she could conjure up from memory if not
from usage
—
and they would have been brilliantly
vile.

She
caught herself when she saw her neighbor, Miss Dee, seated on her own porch across
the street. But she was sitting all wrong. There was a slump that wasn
’
t rest. Not the rest of sleep or even a
nap. Celeste ran to her.

“
The house will never
be the same,
”
she had told Celeste only the day
before. Neighbors had joined in to help her clean since she had no family left
and too little money to get help or to move out.
“
It
’
s like all the memories were washed
away and only the stink of the flood is left.
”
So she had spent as
much of her days as she could out on her porch, only going inside when she had
to.

More
neighbors came over after Celeste arrived. Someone called for an ambulance to
claim the body, but as they waited, no one talked of moving Miss Dee back
indoors, knowing she
’
d chosen to be on the porch, whether or
not she figured she would pass away there.

Celeste
returned home after the ambulance pulled away. She walked straight through the
house to sit on the back stoop and cry like she wouldn
’
t allow herself to do while waiting
with Miss Dee.
Just more of all that bottled up stuff inside
her.
Rage and now sorrow. The flood had been one bad thing, now here was
another with the loss of her old neighbor.

“
Bad things come in
threes,
”
as Odette sometimes said.

Celeste
sighed at the end of so many tears. It was best for her damp house that she had
shed them out back. She went inside to make amends with her mop and count her
dinnerware.