Child of the Storm Read Free

    She
lived among giants.
    Tended
by giants who were her family and washed by the giants of the sky, sent her way
by the Gulf. Of the giant, New Orleans, she knew only what her brother told
her, and that he knew of second hand from one who lived there, bringing word of
it and worlds beyond. She was Odette and a Great Aunt, according to Augustin.
The only one of her kind, and Celeste enjoyed her visits in much the same way
she enjoyed a fierce thunderstorm.  

Odette
    Odette
was coming all the way from New Orleans by hired carriage. She was coming
because she chose to, but she might be grim and uncomfortable when she arrived.
Celeste was five years old and knew she ’ d changed because it
was marked on the wall, showing how she ’ d grown, but never
enough to catch up to Augustin.
                Since
Odette ’ s last visit, Celeste had taken to
drawing after seeing her father sketch out a thought for a shape in iron; a
sinuous notion inspired by something he ’ d read. An image
brought to mind from a book left by Odette. An inspiring book, an inspired
sketch and Celeste was now an artist — drawing
a bird from memory.
    When
the carriage drew up outside, Celeste could hear it through the gap under the
door. There was a knock, sharp and brief. Marie called out that it was
unlocked, and Odette entered, bearing books. She was a head shorter than Marie
and might have been called petite by a stranger, but she filled a room when she
entered it. Filled it with an intensity that seemed to beam from her eyes.
Odette dressed well and reeked of the city and some amount of wealth, even though
when traveling to St. Marie Parish, she dressed for the road.
    “ How are you Marie, ” she asked. The meaning was clear.
    “ Doing fine today. ” Marie smiled, but it wasn ’ t her mother ’ s fullest smile since the Sadness had
only moved on the day before. Celeste had learned to read her mother as she ’ d learned to read the sky. Six years old and reading almost everything around her, except books
from Odette.
    Marie
set her sewing aside, greeting Odette without getting up. “ I finished the book. ”
    “ And what did you
think, ” Odette asked
    “ It was difficult. Harder than the last one. There were times when I wasn ’ t sure I could make it through. ”
    “ Life ’ s that way for most of us. A book ’ s a journey. ” She smiled as Marie held out the old
book to be taken away. “ Glad to see it gone,
are you? ”
    Marie
nodded. “ But I appreciate it, as always.
Appreciate what you do for us. ”
    Odette
took the book and handed it off to Celeste to hold as she fished inside the
satchel. “ I ’ m not done yet. ”   She straightened again, holding two books as she glanced around the
room. “ And what about Bernard. How ’ d he manage? ”
    Marie
looked proud and grew before Celeste ’ s eyes, reclaiming
just a bit more of what the Sadness had taken on its last visitation. “ Managed fine. Finished his book days
ago. ” She pointed to the table across the
room and Celeste took the cue and leapt after it.
    “ Good man. A book ’ s like an opportunity. It doesn ’ t do you any good unless you pick it up
and accept what it has to offer. ” She handed one book
to Marie and set another on the table next to Celeste ’ s drawing. “ And what of Augustin? ” she asked.
    “ Still reading too.
Picks up whatever Bernard reads. Does it when his papa ’ s not reading, so you may need to bring
him his own book next time. ”
    Odette
turned her attention on Celeste and her drawing. Her eyebrow ticked up. “ You have a good eye, ” she admitted before turning back to
Marie. “ She and Augustin are still close? ”
    “ Almost inseparable.
Like they were twins, but born so many years apart. Like she was held back
until that storm brought her. ” She smiled at Odette
who was giving her that look she had for things she thought frivolous. “ Twins do run in the family, ” Marie added.
    “ They do, but they