Finding Someplace (6 page)

“We'll make meat pies,” Miss Martine told her. “That way, if the power goes out, we'll have something we can eat cold.”

They proceeded to chop onions and garlic and bell peppers. Miss Martine directed Reesie to drawers and cabinets stocked with dishes, bowls, and fancy serving platters. Each one had a story, and Miss Martine told them all. Reesie found herself laughing even more and asking questions, forgetting the tight place in the pit of her stomach. She felt as if Ma Maw were with her again.

The aroma of the frying crust and spicy meat began to fill the house as the rain lashed hard against the windows. Reesie counted one, then two dozen of the golden half-moons spread on paper-towel-covered trays—and Miss Martine was still scooping more pies out of the hot oil.

“You know, I ran into a fellow once who was selling videotapes of Micheaux movies. I don't know where he found the film, but they're the real deal! I bought one or two of them. We can watch one if you set up the video machine. I never can figure that thing out.”

“No way!” Reesie turned to see Miss Martine's eyes twinkling. “Black-and-white?”

“Course!” She nodded toward the other room. “Look through that armoire in front of the couch.”

Reesie stared at the huge piece of furniture, and when she went to pull at its double doors, she found a bulky old TV set sitting on top of a VCR. Not even a DVD player. She smiled to herself. But then, the boxes stacked neatly beside the TV were all videotapes. She scanned the titles until she saw the name
Micheaux
written in spidery script on the spine of one box. The tape inside only had a plain label on it that read
SWING, 1938
.

“This is soooo old!” Reesie murmured. She slid the tape in, rewound it, and it was ready to go. “It's in, Miss Martine,” she called out, pressing play.

“I'll be right there.”

Just as Reesie settled onto the sofa, the lights flickered. Then the TV picture turned to static, and the power went completely out.

“Hey!” Reesie shouted.

“Good gracious! It's only the lights,” Miss Martine said.

But Reesie jumped up, banged her knee, and sent something thudding to the floor.

“Don't move,” Miss Martine ordered. “You'll hurt yourself. Let me get my searchlight.”

“O-okay,” Reesie answered. She wouldn't dare move. It was pitch-black. The wind was actually whistling, the way it did in horror movies, and trees were scratching at the windows. For a minute she imagined that she felt the whole house move, but then it seemed still.

“That's freaking crazy,” she mumbled out loud.

“Say what?” A strong beam of light suddenly shone from the kitchen. Reesie could see Miss Martine's face in the shadows.

“N-nothing.” Reesie was still trembling. And all at once, she was super-hungry. It was ridiculous. How could she be totally scared, and starving too?

Reesie blinked. Miss Martine was smiling, motioning in her direction.

“We might as well eat a little something,” she said. “Seems to me, people always eat when their nerves are bad. Watch where you step, now.”

Miss Martine plunked her flashlight on a counter and rifled through a kitchen drawer. She produced a tall candle, lit it, and set it in the center of the table.

“What kind of New Orleans girl are you, afraid of a little wind?” she asked.

Reesie shrugged. “One time during a storm, when I was little, Ma Maw took Junior and me into the middle bedroom while the house shook like crazy! I mean, we were okay and everything, but—I just don't like any of it.”

“I've been blessed since I bought this house,” Miss Martine said. “I never suffered more than a few inches of water and some missing shingles.”

“But aren't you—weren't you scared to be in here by yourself?” Reesie asked.

Miss Martine smiled. “I know it's odd for you young people to be alone, but we old people get used to it.”

Reesie did think it was weird, but she didn't say that. She nervously chewed on a meat pie, listening to the wind rumble. The rain was pounding now, and a clap of thunder almost knocked her off the stool she was sitting on. The searchlight was dancing along the counter by itself. The house was really shaking. The walls were straining and creaking.

“Miss M, do you think … do you think Katrina is the ‘big one,' like everybody's saying?”

Before Miss Martine could answer, an explosive burst of wind blew the candle out and rocked the building from its brick foundation up. Glass rattled and windows popped, tinkling as their shards flew everywhere. Reesie jumped off the stool and crawled under the table. Miss Martine eased to her knees and grabbed one of Reesie's hands. Reesie squeezed the old lady's soft arm.

“Just keep still,” Miss Martine whispered.

The searchlight finally clattered to the floor and went out, spinning underneath the table alongside them. Then a thunderous crash hit the side of the house.

“Wh-what was that?” Reesie's eyes were wide in the dark.

“I think it was the roof over my bedroom,” Miss Martine said. A moment later they heard a sound like a giant shower running at full force.

Katrina raged and stomped across New Orleans.

Reesie and Miss Martine clung to each other under the table. The hurricane kept rolling. Reesie closed her eyes tight, telling herself that it couldn't possibly be
her
house that the trees were falling on. It couldn't be her house that the wind had just flattened with another
boom.

“Now, I'm just thinking,” Miss Martine said calmly during a lull in the wind. “How silly an old woman am I to stay here for a bunch of books and souvenirs from two lifetimes ago?” She shifted her weight away from Reesie and clicked her tongue, fussing at herself.

Distracted from her fear, Reesie opened her eyes.

“That's not silly. It's like you said. These are your precious things!”

“Things seem to be all I have left,” Miss Martine said.

“I think there are some things that are special,” Reesie said.

“Like what?” Miss Martine asked as trees crackled and cracked outside.

Reesie described the antique clock Mama's uncle had brought back from his time in World War II, and the Kenyan stool her parents had gotten when they went to Africa before she was born. She told Miss Martine about Junior's basketball trophies and her own stacks of sketchbooks.…

“And then there's Ma Maw's old sewing machine,” she said.

“She's the one who taught you?”

Reesie nodded.

“I should have known. Your grandmother always had an eye for fashion. I made her a pie every now and then, and she'd hem a dress for me in return.”

“That's so cool,” Reesie said, thinking how crazy it was that she never knew any of that.

Rain whipped against the windows, pounding on the roof. For a moment the roar outside magnified the small noises inside: boxes bumped and shifted; windows rattled all around. It was like intense music, overwhelming with its sound and hypnotic rhythm. Reesie tapped her toe to the strange beat, and tried to imagine that she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

*   *   *

Orlando was kissing her in Audubon Park, one of the most beautiful places in New Orleans. She was wearing a brilliant blue sundress that she'd designed.… But they were wrenched away from each other by some force she couldn't see. Next she was at the Audubon Zoo, sailing around on the carousel and looking frantically for the brown speck that would be Orlando, but she couldn't find him as the ride spun faster and faster.

“Hey! Open up! Open up! Let me in! Anybody in there?” Orlando was yelling.… How in the world could she let him
in
to the carousel? How loud could that boy get?

“Open
up
!”

Reesie jumped. She'd been asleep.

“Teresa!” Miss Martine was shaking her shoulder. “Wake up, child, there's somebody at the door, and I'm too stiff to get up.”

Reesie blinked awake. The wind had stopped.

Her back ached; her shoulders and legs ached. The door chimes were making her head ache. But before she moved, she looked at Miss Martine.

“What happened? Is the hurricane over?” Reesie knew that there was a calm spot in the middle of every hurricane, and as the storm passed over land, that eye in the center could fool you.

The doorbell chimes had been joined by furious banging.

“It's over,” Miss Martine said. “Go on, now. See who it is!”

“We're in here!” Reesie shouted. “I'm coming!” Maybe it was her father, she thought. She moved a little faster, clumsily unbolting all Miss Martine's security locks and throwing the door open.

Standing there like a giant wet puppy with dreadlocks was Orlando's missing brother, Andr
é
.

 

Chapter Ten

A
UGUST 29, 5:30 AM

Reesie was so shocked and angry that she barely noticed her feet squishing into the carpet. “Where have
you
been?” Reesie frowned at him.

“Well, Reesie Boone,” he drawled, “this ain't your house! What're you doin' here? And anyway, can't a brother come in and get hisself dry?”

Before Reesie could answer, Miss Martine spoke out.

“You watch that attitude, Andr
é
Knight! This is
my
house!”

Dr
é
's shoulders immediately shot from slumped to straight.

“Oh! Sorry 'bout that, Miss M. I just came by to check on you.…” Dr
é
stepped in, and a girl appeared behind him.

She was tall and skinny, wearing crazy high platform heels and a tight white dress splashed with creamy flowers. She wore a scarf wrapped around her head like a turban, which Reesie thought was actually kind of cute, and glitter sparkled along with the water drops on her long fake eyelashes.

The pair slipped in the door quickly, but not before Reesie caught a glimpse outdoors. It was still raining, and all she could see was the top of a big tree that the wind must have blown down, and the wires of a split telephone pole snaking across the yard.

“Teresa, can you get those blinds open over there?” Miss Martine called to her.

Reesie knelt on the couch and let more of the weak light in. Then she pulled out her phone and tried her mother's number.

She was stunned when her mother picked up on the first ring.

“Mama!” Every muscle in Reesie's body relaxed.

“Reesie! Are you okay? Happy birthday, baby!”

Reesie swallowed hard. She was thirteen! She'd waited so long, expecting to feel special on this birthday. And now?

“Everything … all right … Miss Simon?” Her mother's words were drowned out by loud static.

“Yes, but—”

“Moved patients … Your father knows where you are.… Love you—” The signal was gone. Reesie took a deep breath and turned on Dr
é
.

“Orlando was going crazy looking for you! Uncle Jimmy evacuated to Houston.”

“I figured.” Dr
é
shrugged. “We went to the house yesterday, and they were all gone. I know Jimmy wasn't wastin' time lookin' for me.”

“That's not true…,” Reesie began.

Dr
é
waved her quiet. “I know my uncle, Reesie Boone. You don't!”

“Why is that any of her business?” the girl snapped. She shifted her body closer to Dr
é
's. Reesie wanted to yell back that it wasn't
her
business either—but she pressed her lips shut tight.

“S'alright, boo,” Dr
é
said. “I've been knowin' Reesie Boone since she and my baby brother were crumb snatchers. We can tell her and Miss M.” He grinned in the dim light.

“Tell us what?” Reesie asked.

“Me and Tree—Eritrea—we went and got married Friday. We've been celebrating for three days!”

“Married,” Miss Martine repeated slowly.

“Married?” Reesie squealed. “But you're only nineteen, same as Junior! That's—that's—you're—”

“Yeah,
married
.” Eritrea wiggled her long fingers in Reesie's direction. “See?” A slim silver band reflected the light from the window blinds.

“How could you do something like that without even telling your own brother?” Reesie demanded. “I wouldn't ever forgive Junior if he pulled a stunt like this!”

“I feel bad about it, 'cause Orlando's my boy. But Jimmy don't have no love for me. Nothin' I ever do is right for him!”

“We're the only family we need, right, baby?” Eritrea pulled Dr
é
close and gave Reesie a look that dared her to say something.

“Andr
é
!” Miss Martine spoke sharply, flicking on her flashlight. “That storm blew in part of the roof. Come on with me and look at it.”

“Right, Miss M!” Dr
é
quickly separated himself from Eritrea.

Reesie had always thought of Dr
é
as funny and a little goofy. Junior had called him flaky when he dropped out of high school. But Orlando said Dr
é
had gotten his GED and a steady job.

“You can't believe Dr
é
has a wife, can you?” Eritrea whispered.

Reesie rolled her eyes. “I'm not even thinking about it,” she lied, easing past Eritrea toward the short hall that led to the bedrooms.

“Well, I'll be! My poor house!” Miss Martine was saying. Reesie stopped so suddenly that Eritrea bumped into her.

“Watch out for the glass,” Dr
é
warned.

A tree limb had crashed through the roof and ceiling. Light rain was pattering through the leaves. Part of the tree had taken out the window near Miss Martine's bed, and landed on her chifforobe. The window glass had exploded into dozens of tiny fragments that were sprinkled over everything in the small room. Reesie's sneakers crunched on the floor.