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“Of course I’m not comfortable. I feel terrible. How can I feel comfortable?” Pierre snapped at Jean Charles. The younger man turned to look out of the train window and gripped the seat divider a little more firmly. He took a deep breath. His father softened his voice a bit and brushed Charles’ shoulder with his own. “I always enjoyed going back to la Nouvelle Orleans, but not this time. Not to go to the hospital, because I feel so misérable.” Jean Charles nodded. “Je comprends, Papa. Maybe we’ll get good news.” Pierre shook his head after his son turned to look at the Raceland refinery a distance from the tracks. I don’t think so. Not unless Monsieur le Docteur has a miracle up his sleeve. The old man closed his eyes and tried to forget the discomfort. Then he stirred, opened his eyes, and said, “Charles, it’s four years ago that the hurricane destroyed our home. What made me think of that? Have you forgotten? Did you remember?” “No, but you’re right. My God, what a horrible time that was for you. And everybody else who was still living down the bayou à Dulac.” Pierre was silent for a while, remembering. “If it wasn’t for the Peter Casano and other boats, we would have all drowned, the water came in so fast and so high. Merci le bon Dieu we had enough sense to board La Casanne before it got too bad. We had maybe 40…so many neighbors with the family aboard that boat, I thought we’d sink every time the wind gusted harder. ” Just like the Texas in the ocean storm. But this time, my family was in danger, too. “I know the Lodrigue family can’t do enough for us, even now,” Charles said. “They brought me a load of fresh produce when they came to town last week, even though I wasn’t with you and Albert during the storm.” “Pauvre Lodrigue. He was sure the house would be underwater before your brother could pole the boat into position for them to jump to the deck. Lodrigue was pale as a ghost when they came aboard. I thought his heart would give out.” Pierre’s voice got a little muffled. “The women all held tight to their rosaries, and I could hear them praying even over the howling wind.” CHAPTER 21 September 1913: Looking Back The French Market in New Orleans, 1900 KingRex’sRoyalChariotattheCanal StreetFerryatMardiGras,1890s. Milk cart, New Orleans c. 1900 201 Chapter 21 The train lurched with the tracks’ slight curve, and Pierre looked out at la prairie tremblante as they approached Des Allemands. A lot may have changed since I first rode this train in the opposite direction, but this landscape is still as I remember it when I saw it more than 50 years ago. Étrange. For some reason, that satisfies me. Maybe it’s because so much else has changed. The changes have been good ones, but it’s nice to see things as my young eyes saw them all those years ago. He caught his reflection in the window, and focused on the gray in his eyebrows and the squint lines around his eyes. The young eyes are long gone, too. “Papa?” Pierre realized Jean Charles had been trying to get his attention. “I was saying what a good thing it was that you had bought the Daspit property in town before the ’09 hurricane hit.” “Ah, oui. I was relieved that Victorine and the younger children were safe in Houma when I was tending the store that day in Dulac when the storm hit. I never minded going back and forth after we moved. I still had the sugar mill, cane lands, and store to keep me busy on the bayou. Near the oyster beds, too. Your Maman is so close to all of you and les petits enfants. She was even willing to move away from her brothers and sisters on Grand Caillou to be near all of you in town.” Pauvre Victorine. That day we went back to Bayou Salé after the water receded to see the damage to our house and land….She bit her lip when she found a little child-sized hoe, the tip of its handle poking out of the soggy dirt that had been the children’s vegetable garden. How many of the younger children had chopped away at the soil among rows of...

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