Child of the Storm (31 page)

A fierce, hot Saturday, and Celeste was
seated on her little yard chair as she called it, her back to the house,
communing with her garden and the elements. It was uncommonly dry. Only the day
before, Celeste had told Gabrielle how they needed a good soaking rain for the
sake of the garden. Nothing from the spigot would do. The plants can taste the
difference.

So
there
Celeste sat with her garden; not planting or weeding
—
just sitting. Her broad brimmed straw
hat shaded her thin body almost completely. So she sat for much of the
afternoon and on toward evening, losing touch with time but keeping touch with
the air and the light. The heat of the day was at its peak, just as the sun was
edging down toward the rooftops when a lone cloud stole up from behind Celeste,
loping up from the
wet lands
to the south and the Gulf
beyond those. Its shadow was way off east, several streets away, so there was
no warning. Even so, Celeste removed her hat and a moment later, the rain came
down.
A nice soaking rain that went on for over a quarter of
an hour.

As quickly as it had started, the rain
stopped as if turned off. Celeste rose and returned to the house, only noticing
Gabrielle as she opened the door and found her waiting just inside with a
towel. She blinked the water out of her eyes, looking like a child more than a
woman of nearly ninety years.

“
Got caught in a shower,
”
Celeste explained as she took the
towel and began to pat herself dry.
“
Guess I should go
get
changed into something dry.
”

“
Probably so,
”
Gabrielle said.
“
But at least you got that rain you
wanted.
”

Celeste smiled at her.
“
Yes I did.
”

That night Celeste prepared dinner for
them, and said nothing of the rain. But Celeste could sense there
was
something working on the girl; something wanting to be
said but not allowed out. After all was cleaned away, Celeste suggested they
retire to the front porch. The air was only a little cooler with the sun down,
but even a little cooler was something, especially if there was a breeze, which
there was. Celeste rocked in her chair and Gabrielle waited for Celeste to
signal when it was time to talk.

Celeste spoke first.
“
I
’
ve always loved the
rain. Since I was a little girl living west of here outside a town smaller than
this neighborhood, I
’
ve loved watching the rain and being
out in it, provided there wasn
’
t lightning. That
’
s something I
’
ll watch from safe inside, but I do
love watching it and hearing the thunder. And the wind is a lovely thing too. A
breeze so gentle you can only feel it if you pay attention, or a good sturdy
wind that sways the trees. Do you know why it is I
’
m drawn to these things?
”

“
George told me you were born during a
hurricane.
”

“
Long ago, 1909, and the storm didn
’
t even have a name. That makes me an
old woman.
”
She smiled at Gabrielle.
“
You were born during a hurricane too.
Isn
’
t that what you told me?
”

“
I did.
”

“
Not a bad thing assuming it goes
alright. But it seems to me there
’
s something on your
mind.
”

Gabrielle shook her head slowly a few
times, drew in a deep breath and then laughed.
“
Yes, ma
’
am there is, and you
’
ll laugh at me after I tell you.
Probably means I
’
m in the middle of some inside joke.
The kind people play on someone from the outside.
”

“
Could be. Could be,
”
Celeste said, rocking gently in her
chair and watching the colors come into the evening sky.

“
When George
—
Mr. Bledsoe, talks about you it
’
s like you
’
re some sort of
…”

Celeste interrupted her with an
upraised hand.
“
Oh, this is about some notion of George
’
s is it? I know what George thinks. He
’
s like a little brother to me, but he
’
s an old man now, and maybe you know
about old men and maybe you don
’
t. Old men can be
marvelous to have around or they can be stiff and tiresome. Fortunately, George
is of the former sort, but even so, like many an old man, he can get some of
the most outlandish notions in his head. Mind you keep that grain of salt with
you when you listen to George. He
’
ll have you thinking
I
’
m some sort of magic lady, like a
Voodoo Queen who sends hurricanes dancing this way and that. But he
’
s a dear and means no harm. Don
’
t think he
’
s playing a joke on you. It
’
s just old man notions. Harmless enough
if you see them coming.
”

Gabrielle laughed softly; maybe at
herself, and let the matter rest for a while, but Celeste could sense her
thoughts circling back to it. She waited to see how it would show itself.

“
Do you believe in Voodoo?
”
Gabrielle asked.
“
It
’
s just that you
mentioned it and you could find it around Savannah. No one I knew, but always
wondered about it. Guess I
’
m curious about such
things.
”

“
Things like religion? Can
’
t really help you there, though I did
have a dear friend who was a Voodoo Queen. That
’
s true! Never learned
much about Voodoo and she never learned to bake a decent loaf of bread. She
helped me and I helped her. That
’
s how it was.
A simple thing of friendship, and I like things to be simple, but
not because I
’
m simple.
You went to school?
”

“
Yes, ma
’
am. Would like to go
to college too, but it may need to wait.
”

“
I missed out on formal schooling, but I
had a stern teacher just the same. I call her my Great Aunt, but turns out she
wasn
’
t kin at all. Odette just took an
interest in my family and saw that we learned to read. Guess once she started,
she couldn
’
t let go. She had us read a big wall of
books. George has them now. I
’
ll show you sometime
if you
’
d like.
”

“
I
’
d like that.
”

“
I read novels and poems. Some I liked
and others not. Some stuck and others didn
’
t. I was good at math
but some of that was doing the books for so many years. I can add in my head,
but don
’
t trust it until I see it written down.
Learned French because my father knew it from his mother. Island French. Comes
easier to me than what Odette called proper French, like they speak in Paris.
That
’
s where she learned it, so that
’
s what she taught me.
That and science.
You know about Darwin. I guess they teach
about him in school.
”

“
They do.
”

“
Smart man to figure out such a grand
but simple thing. All from connecting up what he saw.
”
She paused, savoring connections she
was feeling at that very moment.
“
Simple isn
’
t stupid and it isn
’
t so easy to find. Takes hard work to
find that simple thing at the heart of something, but you can
’
t stop short. Just think of us sitting
here now. There
’
s you, there
’
s me, and there
’
s whatever connects us
—
like George and bread and hurricanes.
Simple enough.
”

They watched the stars come out and
spin through a bit of the night until Celeste decided it was time for bed.

“
You can sit up as long as you like,
”
she said, as she always did.

Gabrielle answered as
she
always
did in return.
“
I won
’
t be up much longer.
I
’
ll be up early. Always something to do.
”

By the fall of
‘
98, Gabrielle was still living in Celeste
’
s home but the old bicycle spent most
of its days chained to the porch while Gabrielle drove her little blue car to
work. That was Celeste
’
s idea, and she helped make it
possible, arguing she might need to impose on her for a ride, and at her age,
she
’
d prefer not do that on the back of an
old bicycle. It wasn
’
t a glorious La Salle, but it would
serve its purpose, especially since La
Salles
weren
’
t around anymore.

They were almost to the end of
September when a storm entered the Gulf, passing over the islands after being
born out of the desert of Africa and nursed into strength across the Atlantic.
Hurricane Georges fed on the warmer waters of the Gulf, and having found them,
there could only be one end. A hurricane might come in through the neck of the
bottle, but it wouldn
’
t go back out that way. The older folks
in New Orleans would remember Betsy well enough. The question was whether
Georges would follow in her footsteps.
 
It was beginning to look that way, even if Georges lacked the strength
of a Betsy or Camille, but Celeste wasn
’
t inclined to take
chances.

“
They
’
re talking
evacuation,
”
Gabrielle told Celeste one evening
after work as Georges prowled the Gulf.
“
We closed up shop and
boarded things up, just in case the storm doesn
’
t go by us on one side
or the other. George was in the shop today, maybe because of the storm. He
asked if I
’
d be heading out of town or staying
with you. It struck me odd that he just assumed you
’
d stay and didn
’
t ask if I would take you inland.
”

“
George knows I don
’
t leave when the storms come, even
though I
’
d prefer it if others did.
”

Gabrielle nodded.
“
I pressed him on why he thought that
way and he said you couldn
’
t bring yourself to
leave because you felt responsible. Responsible for what?
”

“
What did he say to that?
”

“
He wouldn
’
t say anything else.
Just smiled and said he
’
d tell me another
time. What do you think he meant by it?
”

Celeste tapped herself on the temple
and smiled.
“
Just what I told you before. Old men
get notions, and they don
’
t have to be sensible
notions to keep them happy. Maybe this storm won
’
t be any more
sensible than he is. George and Georges. Maybe two of a kind, I hope.
Awkward but no big trouble.
We
’
ll see.
”

Later, while Gabrielle was inside,
Celeste sat on the front porch, dozing in her rocking chair, her face turned
slightly into the light wind. Soon, the bear joined her and placed her head
very close to Celeste
’
s right hand.

“
You
’
re weighing that
storm, aren
’
t you,
”
said the bear.
“
Seeing if you need to do something
about it.
”

“
He isn
’
t at all strong. Not
strong like he could be. Still
…”
Celeste fell silent,
considering.
“
Still
…
better to show him
the way around. Better to send him on his way. Liable to make a mess of things
otherwise.
”
Celeste tipped her head to the other
side as if listening.

The bear departed, leaving Celeste to
slip up out of her doze to find Gabrielle in the other chair.

“
I
’
m sorry, I didn
’
t mean to wake you,
”
Gabrielle said.

“
Oh, it was only a little nap after
dinner. You know, it would be fine if you wanted to leave town for a day or
two, what with the storm out there. I could ask around for someone with room to
put you up.
”

Gabrielle shook her head.
“
No, I
’
ll be fine right
here.
”

“
That
’
s for you too say.
”

“
We could keep each other company,
unless you think I
’
d be in the way.
”

“
Why would I think you were in the way?
”
Celeste tipped her chin up to catch
some meaningful movement of air.

“
Well,
”
Gabrielle began
hesitantly,
“
it
’
s just that when I
came out here just now, you were talking in your sleep, and talking about
sending someone around so there wouldn
’
t be a mess, or
something of the sort. I wasn
’
t trying to pry
…”

“
Can
’
t call it prying if
someone just talks aloud while you
’
re sitting beside
them. Easier for the one to close her mouth than for the other to close her
ears.
”
Celeste giggled at herself.

“
Just sounded like you might be talking
about the hurricane. Like you meant to wait on the storm and send it on around.
Taking care of the city.
”

“
If someone could do that, don
’
t you think that would be the thing to
do?
”

“
If
I
could do that, then I
would,
”
Gabrielle said.

Celeste nodded and turned her head
away. Gabrielle understood that was an end to it.

Celeste woke in the morning and rose to
look at her watercolor study of Georges, and thought how well it matched what
she and the bear had fashioned on the other side in convincing Hurricane
Georges to stay clear. She had her painting table set up beside her bed, not
wanting to stir up notions that might find their way back to George. It was
early still, and there was no sound of Gabrielle up and about. She felt rested,
and knew the challenge hadn
’
t been like that with
Camille. She rubbed her eyes and chuckled.
“
Anyone looking at
this would think I
’
d lost my senses. Wouldn
’
t look like anything at all to them.
But means a lot to me.
”

She went to the kitchen to make coffee
and it was only the clink of cups that finally roused Gabrielle.

“
Did I wake you?
”
Celeste
asked
as Gabrielle emerged, bleary eyed from her room.
“
I was trying to be
quiet.
”

“
I needed to get up. Any news on
Georges.
”

Celeste smiled and waved a hand toward
the east as if bidding someone a fond farewell.
“
Sailing off toward
the panhandle. Going to cry himself out along the beaches.
”
A dismissive tone.

“
So we
’
re out of the woods?
”

This struck Celeste as funny
somehow.
 
“
Out of the woods. I guess I
’
ve been out of the woods since I was
nine. But we
’
re safe from Georges, yes ma
’
am. And better still, no one should
have too much trouble with him.
”
She poured coffee
and sliced up a long loaf of bread for them to share.
“
Day old bread but it should still be
good, considering where it came from. Maybe
Dubois
’
will open up soon and get something coming out of the ovens.
”