Under the Sassafras (22 page)

Joelette felt like her life had already been hit by a hurricane. And MaeMae was right. She sure wasn’t going to forget him. With all her might she wished he was here.

“Hurry,” MaeMae called as the wind picked up. “Before you are hit by debris.”

Joelette tore herself away from the eerie sight and joined the others in the hallway. This was her first real hurricane. They had been skirted by a couple of storms in northern Louisiana that caused a lot of wind and rain, but none had hit this close.

“I can't get over how dark it is and how loud the wind is getting.” Joelette sat on the floor next to Possum. T-Boy tried to teach Ozamae how to play chess.

Possum caught her look and motioned her to lean closer and whispered in her ears. “This is the beginning. Stay close to the boys. They'll be scared.”

Joelette looked at Possum and found his eyes full of concern. Were they in real danger? “T-Boy, why don't you put your chess set away and look at your books,” she said.

The louder the storm became, the quieter the group of people that gathered in the hallway became. It looked as if half of the
Bon Amie
was here and the Mouton sisters said that a large group was held up in Babette’s house and the other group at the LeBlanc place.

The wind roared. The ripping of the tin roof sounded as if the fingers of the storm tore it off sheet by sheet. Large objects hit the boards on the windows and the families huddled together.

Talk became silence.

Silence became prayers.

Joelette held T-Boy to her and MaeMae held onto Ozamae. No voice could be heard over the deafening sound of the storm. Possum huddled beside them, hat in hand.

Where are you Mansir? Are you thinking of us? Joelette thought if his strong arms were around her small family, they would all be safe.

For what seemed like hours the stormed vented its anger on the old strong house and its inhabitants. Then the noise stopped. All was quiet.

“It's over. We're all right. Thank God it's over,” Joelette told the boys.

“No
Cher
, that was just the front of the storm. We are in the eye. We must go quickly to the restroom and get something to eat or drink. The worst might be yet to come,” MaeMae said, as she led them to the bathroom.

“Mom, I'm hungry.” Ozamae said as both boys looked at their mom for direction.

“Why don't you grab a sandwich? I also saw some of those great cookies that you both love on the table. But hurry, okay?” Ozamae ran off toward the dining room. Joelette looked at the worried look on T-Boy's face. She bent down on one knee. “I won't let anything happen. Be brave, little man. We've made it through tougher times in our family.”

His lip began to tremble and she gathered him in her arms. “You know what, forget what I said about being brave, T-Boy. I've never known a braver man than you are. Tonight, I'll be brave for both of us. You just be my little boy. You stay and I’ll get you a sandwich.”

Everyone returned to the hallway. The roaring wind returned with sheets of rain. A large crack caused gasps from the group huddled together. The circle grew tighter as the storm grew louder.

The front door shook against its hinges. Four men jumped up from their spots and shoved a large hall tree in front of the door, backed by large pieces of furniture. Water blew under the door and began to seep toward the group. They grabbed blankets and what pieces of clothing they could spare, and built a dam to protect from the water.

They were as one now, working together for self-preservation, everyone the same.

Sleep overtook some of the children, the long night ended. The wind subsided in the early morning. The rain remained, but not as hard. The worst was over. One by one, the families hugged each other. Some cried the tears they were too scared to cry before. Each one thankful for surviving the storm's terror and to Mrs. Broussard for sharing a safe haven.

It took six men to move the furniture back from blocking the front door. Laughter returned as women and children mopped up the water inside the front hall. At last, the path cleared, they opened the door and stepped out onto what was left of the front porch now laden with debris.

Joelette stared in wonderment at the grand old white mansion with part of it's front porch missing and the paint peeled off of just about every inch of the house. Some huge trees lay as kindling on the lawn, others, like chosen ones, held every leaf in place.

Joelette knew each family feared the worst for their own home. If the storm could do this much damage to this strong house, what had it done to theirs? What would she find left of her home? For the first time since she came to live in MaeMae's house, she considered it her home. Was she too late? Would there be enough of the house left to call home?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The look on Sara’s face told William that something was wrong. “What's wrong, Sara?”

“I've tried to get in touch with you all afternoon. Why didn't you take your cell phone?”

“I was at the cemetery and visiting with Marion’s parents I didn't want to be disturbed. Tell me what’s happened.”

“I saw footage of Hurricane Carrie. It looks horrible. William, they said the brunt of the storm center hit the outskirts of New Orleans, then traveled inland and hit the Atchafalaya Basin, floodwaters are everywhere trees are down. A lot of people lost their homes.”

William searched for his phone, trying not to panic. Not Joelette’s house, please. He pleaded.

He found the phone on the coffee table he dialed Joelette without hesitation. A recording proclaimed that all circuits were busy and that no calls could go through at this time. 

He tossed the phone on the sofa in frustration. Why couldn’t he get through? He had to know if they were alright.

“Sara, did they say any lives were lost?” His hands fisted.

“No, they didn't know. They will have an update on the six o'clock news. Red Cross is there and so is FEMA. They're fine, William, I just know it.”

He dialed the number again and received the same response. He set the phone on automatic dial, and started to pack. He moved to his closet. Tailor-made suits hung in abundance with custom-made shirts in many colors. One shirt stood out; one of the ones Joelette had made. He took it off the hanger and caught a whiff of the sweet smell. The soft denim felt good.

The phone rang. His heart stopped. “Your call can be completed now,” the operator said as he picked up the receiver.

“Hello.” Joelette's voice melted over him.

He had to swallow before he could speak. “Joelette, this is Mansir. I'm so glad to hear your voice. I just heard about the hurricane. Are you okay? Is everyone all right?”

“We're fine,” she assured him, then added stiffly,  “How are you?”

William could hear the hurt still in her voice. He could close his eyes and see her pushing her hair away from her face. “Do you need anything? How's the house? I have so many questions.” Taking a deep breath, he sighed. “How can I help?”

“We're okay. We have lots of trees down and the front porch’s roof is gone, Possum and I just walked in so I don't know how bad everything is.”

William could hear her breathing. He started to say something but in a low voice she asked. “Why did you call?”

He sighed. “I needed to know you were alright, that you were safe.”

“Don’t worry about us,” she said. Then she hung up the phone.

He held the dead phone. “She hung up.”

“William, how did she sound?” Sara took the phone from him and set down the receiver.

“Sad, scared, tired. There is much that needs said, but the phone isn’t the way. She needs me, even if she doesn’t know she does. I’m going back.”

“Try to leave without me. I'll make the flight arrangements.” Sara kissed her brother on the forehead then opened the laptop and searched for flights.

“The closest airport, that’s operational, is Houston, about two hundred miles from Lafayette,” Sara said when he came back from packing. ”We have a flight at ten in the morning. Do you want me to rent a car?”

Pacing, he snapped his fingers. “No, I have a better idea. Do you have Brad's phone number? Doesn’t he still live in Houston with Aunt Brenda?”

“I can get it. What's up?” Sara replied.

“Have him go to a dealer and buy me a loaded truck. Red, it has to be red. Have him have someone from the dealership meet us at the airport with papers for me to sign. Tell him I'll wire him the money in two hours. With a little extra for his trouble.” As he finished gathering last minute items, he could hear Sara talking to their cousin. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

I'm coming, m'lady. Don't you give up on me.

“He wants to know how much for his trouble.” Sara rolled her eyes and put her hand over the receiver. “He also wants to know what kind of truck.”

“Tell him he'll earn a couple of thousand for his trouble. And get one of those big ones, with the dual cab.”

“I like the new you, big brother.” Sara assured cousin Brad the money would be forthcoming and they would meet him tomorrow at baggage.

“What else?” Sara asked. “Oh, I’ve made reservations at the Hilton near the airport for tonight.”

“Nothing else.” William grabbed his bags and called for the driver. “I know this sounds strange, Sara, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm going home.”

###

“Was that the phone I heard ringing?” Possum asked as he walked into her house.

“Yes, it's working,” Joelette said as she hung up the receiver.

“They got them working pretty fast.” He looked around. “Doesn’t look too bad in here. Put your rubber boots on and let's look at the rest of your place.”

Joelette walked into her bedroom to get her boots and saw the bed was untouched as were the curtains starched and ironed hanging at the windows. No water damage. The inside of the house was as they left it but the outside was littered with debris. My home is stronger than I thought. She remembered the sound of his voice on the phone, so full of concern and pity. She hated the idea of him off in California, worrying about her.

“You alright?” Possum stood in her bedroom doorway.

She nodded. “My boots are in that closet.” A few minutes later they walked out the front door.

Trees turned over as if a giant hand had pulled them from the earth like a weed from a garden. Over the porch the tin was rolled up like a giant tube, leaving the rafters showing in spots. A few inches more and they would have had a house full of rain. They stepped off the porch into the yard. It was littered with broken limbs, leaves, moss, and trash. A small alligator sunned himself on an overturned washtub.

“What a mess. I'm glad we didn't bring the boys with us.” Joelette shook her head and looked around. “But you know it could have been so much worse.”

Joelette shaded her eyes from the sun. The sky blue as a fresh spring day showed no signs of what havoc it brought just
a night ago. Something was missing. “Possum, where are the birds? It’s so quiet.”

“Removing his hat he scratched his head. “Probably deeper inland, but they’ll be back, and so will I, if you don’t mind. I need to check on my boat.” He turned around. “Will you be ok?”

“Of course, I’m going to check on Ozamae’s birds.”

She walked out into the yard surveying the rest of th
e damage; the porch off the quiet room was gone as was the roof. MaeMae’s room had not fared as well as the main house.

One Eyed Blanc came flapping over begging for a handout. “Well hello, guy. Nice to see you made it.” Possum said the others would return too, she hoped so.

She could hear Possum whistling as he walked back down the road. “We were both lucky, Joelette. My houseboat is still there with hardly any damage, my shrimp boat needs some work though.”

She glanced back up at the roof. “All of this can be fixed
but I’m not sure about the quiet room. There’s a lot of work to be done.”

“I’ll help you,” Possum said.

“You are a dear, dear man.” If only Mansir was here, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t hold her in his strong arms and tell her where to start. “I promise home cooked meals for as long as you like. Mrs. Broussard offered to let my boys and MaeMae stay with her while I get the house back in a livable condition. MaeMae is going to be sad.”

“You might have trouble with the creatures for a while.” Possum smiled, nodding the direction of the gator. “Don't reach in any dark corners or lift any thing in the yard without a long stick to probe first. I have my pistol if we need it.”

“Let me get a tablet and make of list of what we will need. We can purchase until my money runs out.” Joelette ran into her home. This was her home and she was going to use her money.

They walked around the house, Joelette with pencil and paper, jotting down tin, lumber, nails, and items Possum suggested. The light of day was fading by the time they’d finished surveying the damage.

They drove back to Mrs. Broussard's for the night and returned the next morning.

“I want to check my field. It won't take me long,” Joelette said.

She started down the path to the field and froze in mid step when Possum yelled.

Expecting to see him surrounded by gators, she ran toward him, and came to a halt at the sight coming down her driveway. Three trucks. The first loaded with tin, lumber and things under a giant tarp, the second loaded with large machinery, the third carried men, lots of men wearing work clothes.

“How much money did you have saved?” Possum held his hat in his hand and scratched his head.

“I didn’t do this.” But she felt sure she knew who did. With the damage done all over the basin, it would cost a fortune to hire a work crew so soon after the storm. She didn’t want his pity. She walked up to the man stepping out of the lead truck “Who ordered this?” The men wearing work clothes were neighbors, and some from town and they were busy unloading supplies. “Stop. This does not belong to me.”

“Sorry ma’am.” The man pushed his hat back and took papers out of his back pocket. “He said you would respond this way.” “My orders are to unload the supplies anyway. These men are being paid very well for a day's work and to be honest with you, they need the money to fix their own homes. So if you want to tell them ‘never mind’, go ahead. But they don't get paid if they leave before the work is finished today.”

Joelette stood with one hand on her hip in the other she held the stick she’d picked up on the way to the field. What could she do? No way would she keep these men, most of whom she knew, from earning much-needed money. Finally, she gritted her teeth and nodded to the men.

“He did this, didn't he?” Possum grinned from ear to ear. “He is one fine man, Joelette. I wish I could shake his hand.”

“Keep on grinning, and I’ll send you to California to meet him.” She dug her stick into the mud. “If he thinks he can just waltz into a woman's life and take over, he’s got another thought coming,” she mumbled.

Possum chuckled as he helped the men unload supplies.

The men started removing the debris, and pieces of tin. Everywhere she looked she saw men. “Now, I'm really going to check out my field.”

The more she walked the more she knew she couldn’t be upset with Mansir, he is a good man. And his motive didn’t matter. He was helping people, not just her, but the people in
Bon Amie
. That mattered more than her foolish pride.

Standing water and moss littered the field. But the old sassafras tree stood. She smiled. She and Mansir had shared lunch beneath its shady branches many times.

She’d wait until the water receded to see if any of the seedlings survived. If not, she hoped she had enough money to plant again.

The sound of hammering and men laughing filled the air. She walked back to the house determined to do her part, to rebuild her home.

Before entering the house, she watched the men cut limbs and stack the wood in a large pile. Other men were already rebuilding the front porch roof. They were doing in one day what it would have taken she and Possum months to do.

“Possum, I'll be inside to see if I can find something to cook for this crew. Call if you need me.” Joelette put her hands on her hips. “And for the last time, wipe that silly grin off your face.” She turned around so he couldn’t see the smile covering her own face.

She found a pot of Gumbo, a bag of rice and a pan of Jambalaya in their deep freezer. She silently thanked MaeMae for her habit of freezing dishes in case they had unexpected guests. These men certainly counted as unexpected guests.

By day's end, the repairs on the house appeared almost complete. The debris was cleaned out of the yard and stacked on the empty truck for removal. The roof on the front porch wa
s done and the porch on the quiet room rebuilt. The men said their good-byes with pride in their eyes for a good day's work.

“Joelette, I need to go to my houseboat. The water has gone down a little and I need to go home before too much of the water recedes and my houseboat becomes a mudboat,” Possum said.

“Of course. Wait and I'll drive you.” Joelette wiped her hands on the apron and turned to fetch the keys.

“I don’t need a ride to my house. It’s a stones throw away. Besides it’ll be dark soon.”

“Possum, I’m staying the night. The phone is working, and MaeMae called and they will be here first thing tomorrow.”

“What about all the critters? The snakes are everywhere,” Possum said.

“With all the shooting there can’t be one snake left in the whole state much less in my yard,” Joelette said. 

Possum chuckled. “You holler real loud if you get scared and I'll come running, alright?”

“I sure owe you. Thanks for being such a good friend. Some woman is going to be very lucky some day.” Joelette bent down from the porch and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“You could’ve been that lucky lady, but I know your heart is with another. I just hope I'm not too old and feeble to enjoy that woman.” Possum turned and walked down the drive. “You can count on me for supper every night for the next six months.” She heard his laughter way after he turned the corner.