Free Child of the Storm by R. B. Stewart Page B

put her mama there? She didn ’ t ask. Didn ’ t want to know such a thing just yet.
    The
train trimmed off more speed and crawled down the line to where Celeste knew it
had to stop soon or get too pinched in by the buildings crowding up around it.
This had to be New Orleans, she told herself, but wouldn ’ t ask Odette. Another porch waited for
the train to slip up alongside it, and they stopped with a soft jolt.
    Other
passengers climbed off before Odette would let Celeste leave her seat. Their
train was not the only one at the station, and even as they came to the end of
their journey, another train started its own, heading off slowly back the way
they had come. As they walked the long porch to the station, Celeste sniffed at
the different air. There was a weight to it, laid on
by the sweat and breathe of the trains. Then, through some doors, they passed
into a room so large, Celeste simply stopped. The store where Augustin had
worked was a nice big place, and the dreaded schoolhouse was large as well, but
not so large that the teacher ’ s hate couldn ’ t fill it up to the high ceiling. But
you could have dropped that whole schoolhouse and all its old ghosts inside
this grand space and it would have been shamed off into just one corner. People
of all types and dress swept past her as she stared up at the ceiling and
across the polished stone floors, washed in the bright afternoon glow from a
window that brought the Climbing Oak to mind. Its top was high and rounded like
a tree ’ s canopy and at its feet the people
came and went. That window shone the brightest, but there was one to right and
left as well. She stood in the middle of this grove of windows and something
Sandrine told her once came to mind. Something about grand
and pearly gates leading into heaven.
    She
heard her name called and saw that Odette was waving for her to catch up. They
passed under that blazing window and for a moment Celeste ’ s eyes were too dazzled to see. A young
messenger boy walked past them and looked squarely at Celeste before striding
away. He wore a sort of uniform with a flat cap, and she wondered if everyone
had to wear a uniform in New Orleans. Her eyes adjusted, and she saw a broad
street stretching from right to left, and another broad space lay out ahead of
them, all lined with tall buildings.
    Odette
stood beside her, giving orders that something was to be brought along, and
quickly. She spoke in hushed but urgent words to three men, impressing them
with her authority and demanding nods that they understood. People,
wagons, automobiles like she ’ d never seen before moved with a brisk
purpose. Celeste ’ s heart raced.
    Odette
sent the men away to do as they were bidden and turned back to Celeste. She
swept her arm from right to left , gesturing to the
street that ran across their path, its far side like a distant shore. “ Canal Street, ” she said, then pointed across the way, toward that other street that plowed right into the
first. “ Basin Street. ”
    Celeste
knew she ’ d need to sort it all out later. Maybe
sort it in her dreams. She looked up at Odette, reached up to tug her sleeve. “ Is this heaven? ” A church question,
but maybe safe enough to ask now.
    Odette
looked at her and considered before answering. Sensible pride won out. “ I like to think so. ”
    Celeste
turned aside all the troubling and complicated notions this answer suggested.
Set them aside for another day when she was less tired and less hungry. “ I ’ m hungry, ” she said.
    “ We ’ re going home, ” Odette said. A nice carriage pulled up
before them.
    “ Where ’ s home? ”
    “ My home, ” Odette said as she set Celeste in the
carriage without straining. “ Your home too. At
least for now. ”
    “ Till Papa comes home.
When will he be home? ”
    “ When he can. When it ’ s over and he ’ s free to come home. I ’ ve sent word to him. ” The carriage set off and its wheels
made a different sound rolling on