by B D Grant
Mom walks to the front door and looks out the glass to the busy street. I sit back down in my chair sensing that I might actually hear something informative. This should be good.
“He probably told you that to protect me. Darrell and I went into hiding. We found another couple with a child that had done the same thing and kind of formed an extended family. It was easier being with other Seraphim. We were doing so good until it all blew up, yesterday.” Clairabelle puts her hand on her shoulder. Mom turns back to her, “I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch with you but we agreed to cut all ties for everyone’s safety.”
“I understand. You know I’ll do whatever I can for you.”
Mom takes her hand from her shoulder and holds it with a look of love and appreciation. I begin to feel like I’m intruding, like maybe I should leave the room, but I keep watching.
“They took Darrell,” she whispers. “It was a normal day and then, he was gone. They took the other couple too and their son. Taylor saw it all happen.” Mom steps back, letting go of Clairabelle’s hand, looking at me with sad eyes.
Clairabelle gives me a sympathetic smile. “You are both welcome to stay with Miles and I until you figure out your next step.”
Mom puts her hands in her front pockets, “That’s not why I came to you. I need you to watch Taylor for me. Just for a little while.”
Clairabelle gets the identical suspicious look her son had as he was watching us. “What about you?”
“Will is meeting me at the cemetery in an hour,” she looks at her watch.
Clairabelle looks as if she was expecting just about any answer except that one. “You really asked him to come back?”
Mom’s hurt by the question. Clairabelle puts her hands up in front of her defensively seeing Mom’s hurt expression saying, “I know he loves you but do you think he can handle being here?”
Mom looks at the ground like she’s mulling over what she just asked her.
She finally looks back at Clairabelle, “It will definitely prove how much he does if he shows up and quite frankly I had no choice. He’s the only person that can help us that I trust.”
“What about the council or your old friends that took jobs at the Southern Academy?”
Mom looks at Clairabelle like she just said a bad joke, “The Academy is long gone. Everyone took their kids out when the kidnappings started.”
Clairabelle thinks for a moment then glides back behind the tall desk and starts fiddling through the drawers. “You and William left a long time ago,” she says. “You weren’t the only one who kept in contact with me after I got you out of here.” She gets frustrated with the drawer and grabs a stack of papers out and dumps them on the top of the desk. “Anyway,” she says continuing to rifle between papers, “William has kept me updated enough to know that they’ve built a new school. This time in a safer location so parents would be willing to bring their kids back. Ah, here it is.”
She sets a paper on desk for Mom. She picks up the paper and I crane my neck trying to pear around her shoulder to see what it is. The half of the paper I can see is a drawing of a large building. It looks like a fancy private school out of a magazine.
“Is this for real?” She asks Clairabelle, looking surprised.
Clairabelle nods, “Thanks to your brother’s persistence to move forward. They rebuilt and started accepting new students a couple years ago. It’s still not anywhere close to what it used to be but it’s something.”
“I had no idea,” Mom says.
“What did you expect being in hiding? Everyone involved is trying to play it safe. They couldn’t send out emails. He couldn’t tell me where it is in fear that the location would somehow get in the wrong hands. Rogues are still a threat…I guess you know that. I drew that picture from the little bit he told me about it when we met in Shreveport a couple years ago.”
“It looks even better than the old school. He’s done a lot.” She stares at the paper then looks at Clairabelle again, “I have to go. I want to check the area out just to be safe.”
She hands the paper with the picture on it back to Clairabelle.
“Don’t worry about Taylor. She’ll be safe with me,” she says taking the paper and putting it back in the stack.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Mom. I can take care of myself,” I say walking up to her.
I get in arms length and she pulls me into a tight hug, “I know you’re very capable, Sweetheart but your dad is too and look at how easily they got to him.”
“That was different,” I say.
He was ambushed and they attacked Jake, I want to tell her.
“It doesn’t matter I need you here. Got it?” She says firmly.
“Yes ma’am.” I say reluctantly as she walks to the door.
“Hold on,” Clairabelle says taking something else out of the drawer. “Take this with you.” She tosses a cell phone to mom. “It’s Miles’s. He must’ve forgot it when we shooed him out. If anything happens call me even if it goes as planned.”
“Okay,” she puts it in her pocket and walks out the front door.
“I’m under ‘Mom’ in his contacts!” Clairabelle says to the closing door.
Clairabelle walks to the desk and picks up the phone, “I have to call my clients and reschedule. Do you want something to drink while you wait?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
She sits down behind the desk and dials a number. I sit back down in the comfy chair next to the front door.
I start daydreaming about what’s happening with Mom. The scenes in my head turn dark fast. I start thinking about what would happen if I never saw her again. I have to get out of here and make sure she’s okay. Clairabelle would stop me before I could get even half way out the door though.
I’m thinking about ways to distract her so I can make a run for it when the front door opens. It surprises me enough I jump in the seat.
“Is it all clear?” Miles asks me, walking in the lobby smelling like cigarettes.
“Yeah, Clairabelle’s on the phone.”
“What’s she doing?” Miles asks looking at Clairabelle.
“Calling people to reschedule.”
“Why?” He walks up to her looking over her shoulder.
“I don’t know. I guess so she can spend some time with us while we’re here.”
I don’t know this guy so I’m not going to fill him in on what he missed. I’m also not going to have two people babysitting me either.
Miles straightens up and smiles shaking his head, “She’s calling Mrs. Dumesnil.” Clairabelle looks at him and puts her pointer finger to her lips telling him to shush. He walks around the desk and leans on it.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Dumesnil, this is Clairabelle,” she says into the phone.
Miles looks at me, “That lady can talk like no ones business.”
Clairabelle gives him a mean look but he can’t see it because his back is to her. She puts her finger in her other ear.
“No, this is Clairabelle Dubose,” she says to the phone speaking louder.
“I bet you twenty bucks she will keep her on the phone for thirty minutes.”
“She can probably hear you through the phone talking about her.”
“Ha, fat chance. She can’t hear.”
“Not Mr. Dell, Clairabelle! Put the phone to your other ear Mrs. Dumesnil!” Clairabelle’s tone turns from sweet to harsh. She stands up and begins pacing behind the desk.
“Told ya,” he says grinning at me.
He walks to the now empty desk and picks up all the papers Clairabelle had taken out and puts them in a drawer. The drawer clunks closed and Clairabelle looks at him annoyed.
“What?” He whispers to her.
She gives him her back. “Yes, from Spa New Orleans. I need to reschedule your appointment. No, you’re not late. I am calling to reschedule!”
She is basically yelling in the phone by the last word. She walks out the lobby using the back door she came in through. “No
I’m not sick! I just had family come into town unexpectedly!”
We can still hear her on the phone after the door closes. “So where did your mom go?” Miles asks sitting behind the desk. From where I’m sitting I can just make out the top of his hair.
“How do you know she is my mom?”
“Cuz you look like her clone with lighter hair.”
Good point.
“She ran an errand while your mom cleared her day.”
I think he nods his head but I’m not positive. My mom needs someone watching out for her on her “errand”. It would be rude to simply walk out. It would be suspicious too. I don’t want him to tell his mom I’ve left either.
I stand up. “So is that sandwich place any good a few shops down?” I’m standing up enough so that I can see his face a little to judge if he’s on to me.
“It’s good. They’re known more for their soups than sandwiches. The potato soup is hands down the best.” He says. He doesn’t seem to notice anything off.
“That sounds delicious. You want me to get you something? I’m going to grab a bite since there isn’t much to do.”
“No thanks, I’m good. You better get there soon if you want to miss the lunch crowd.”
“I’m not in a huge rush anyways since I have thirty minutes to kill, right?” I smile at him but the joke was weak. I put my hand on the doorknob trying not to look nervous. We can still hear Clairabelle carrying on a conversation somewhere behind the back door.
“At least that.” He says smiling back at me.
I walk out of the Spa still really nervous Miles’s on to me. I keep a slow, no hurry, pace walking toward the sandwich shop. I steal a few glances behind me making sure neither Miles nor Clairabelle are coming after me. It looks all clear when I get to the front of the sandwich shop so I pick up the pace and walk past it.
I make it to the intersection with the cemetery catty-corner to me in no time. I don’t see Mom around but I expected for her to be inside already checking things out. If I walk in there’s a chance she’ll see me. I don’t want her to make me go back. I decide to keep some distance from the big iron gates surrounding the cemetery, staying on the other side of the street.
I walk down the sidewalk acting like a tourist enjoying the sights of the tombs and street performers. I can see a woman placing flowers on a really old looking tomb and an old guy pulling weeds a little farther down but that is it. The tombs sit so high above the ground in most places I can’t see more then two rows into the cemetery. From looking down the length of it I know it’s about the size of two blocks so there’s a lot I can’t see. I need to get higher so I can see what’s going on. Going in and climbing on top of a tall tomb without being seen is out of the question. I see a security guard going through the cemetery.
I keep walking down the sidewalk looking for anything to help me. There are two tall guys walking slow toward me. It looks like the smaller one is supporting the other one. I wonder how weird it would be to ask to get on their shoulders. They get about ten feet from me when the biggest one falls to his knees and starts blowing chunks. His buddy talks a step away from him and proceeds to take pictures of him on his cell phone while laughing at him. It’s like eleven o’clock in the morning and this guy is already wasted to the point of puking. Has New Orleans always been this sad? I, like everyone else on the sidewalk, give them plenty of space going around them. The smell of alcohol and sweat is so strong as I go around them I use my shirt to cover my nose; so much for that idea.
A door slams shut ahead of me between two shops, down an alley. There is a middle-aged couple carrying boxes out the alley. They load the boxes in the back of a car parked next to the sidewalk. I watch while they drive away. This is going nowhere fast. I look down the quiet alley. It opens to the street on the other side of the buildings. Most of the doors going down the alley don’t have knobs making it so that you can walk out but not back in. There’s a large dumpster against the building next to me that takes up most of the width of the alley.
I’m about to turn around and keep walking when I see it, a metal staircase running down the side of one of the buildings. It gets my attention. It must have been built the same time as the building because it’s rusted to the point of falling apart. It is the perfect look out to the cemetery.
I hurry to the dumpster. It must be my lucky day because the dumpster has two lids and the one closest to the staircase is closed. I climb on top of the dumpster thinking about how that guy’s puke smelled like roses compared to this monster of a stench. I turn to the staircase and balance myself on one foot reaching out as far as I can to grab the lowest stair. A stranger passing the alley from the street stops and snaps a picture of me while I throw the rest of myself on the staircase.
“Some help would’ve been nice,” I say to the jerk.
He ignores me like I’m not talking to him and continues on his way.
Standing on the first landing makes it easier to see the cemetery, but only the tops of all the tombs and statues. I go up to the next landing carefully. Some of the stairs are rusted to the point of disintegrating. The window that opens to the second landing is completely boarded up. I look out with satisfaction now. I can see more of the people walking around. There are more people in the cemetery than I originally thought. The guard is walking the perimeter looking at a young couple making out next to a statue of a small child playing. There’s a tour starting at the entrance. Farther to the back there’s a much smaller tour stopped at a tomb covered in graffiti. Most of them are taking pictures next to it. The only woman not wearing a fanny pack or backpack places a flower next to it. The guide directs the group to the next row where there is a statue of an old man. The group moves on with a couple of stragglers still taking pictures. Eventually they all walk away except for the woman that placed the flower. She has silver hair but she’s wearing clothes of someone who is about to workout so she’s not elderly. I haven’t seen her face so I can’t be sure. I scan the individuals walking around looking for Mom. It boils down to three women that could be her. Two have caps on, one yellow and one black, and the third walked behind a tomb before I could get a good look at her.
Then the black cap walking in the middle of the cemetery turns and I see a white spot on it. I gave Mom a black New Orleans Saints hat one year for Mother’s Day. She wore it until she got paint on it remodeling the kitchen. She’s walking to the statue of the child playing. The couple are still kissing when she sees them next to the statue. She looks at them and says something causing them to stop kissing for minute and look at her. She leaves them staring walking past the statue deeper into the cemetery. She weaves through the forest of cement looking between each tomb she passes. I really want to know what she said to the couple because when I look back at the child statue they are gone. I see them exiting the cemetery. Mom is back on one of the paths going toward the back when I catch sight of her again. She slows when she gets close to the graffiti tomb. She sees the silver haired lady picking up the trash around the grave and keeps walking.
After a few steps she stops abruptly and turns back to the woman. The woman is still looking at the tomb. I can see mom say something to the woman. The woman turns to face her. Mom told me she was meeting her brother not a woman. I should’ve been paying more attention. I could’ve seen her profile when she was cleaning the tomb but I was watching Mom. Her back is to me now so I can’t see her face but it is for sure a woman. I don’t even think it could be my uncle dressed as a woman. Mom looks around like she’s expecting more people to pop up.
This can’t be good. She could be with the people that took Dad and I’m just going to watch, again. Mom walks closer to her talking with her hands out, palms facing the woman. The same gesture she made when she would walk in on me watching T.V. instead of doing my homework. The woman straightens her back taking a small step closer to my mom. Mom looks mad. I have to get down there. If that woman is a Rogue and more are waiting to ambush her she won’t stand a chance by h
erself. I won’t be any good to her up here. I should’ve been down there the entire time.
I run down the stairs ignoring the loud creaks of the old metal. I make it to the first landing when something gives. I hear a snap as the landing comes loose. I grab the handrail as the entire frame scraps down the side of the building. The rust from the rail digs into my hand, the hand still bandaged is spared as I slide down the rail despite my efforts. My feet are no longer any help, dangling in the air. The frame stops moving for a second thanks to the parts of it that are still attached to the building.
I’m hanging off the dangling metal frame with both of my hands on fire gripping the rail for dear life. My bandaged hand feels warm from the blood that’s escaping the wound. The harder I squeeze the rail holding on the more the cut opens up. The moment of panic passes and I look down. I was only on the second floor of the building when the landing came loose. When I look down I’m maybe six feet from the ground. I swing my leg trying to reach the edge of the dumpster next to me but it is too far. I take a deep breath and let go. I hit the ground, fall on my side, and roll on my back. I get up, dust off, and take off to the cemetery with a small limp.
I continue running in the cemetery past people who stop and look at me. They don’t seem caught off guard seeing a random dirty person running around. However they might be thrown off when they see no cops are chasing me. I pass the child statue and see the guard is walking toward the back where my mom and the lady are.
He jumps to the side of the path and grabs for something at his side when I come running up. What’s he going to do hit me with, his flashlight? I keep running. He stays in the stance watching me while I run by.
He has a gun on his hip. What kind of cemetery is this for a guard to be packing? I pause when I get near the back of the cemetery. I don’t hear fighting or screams for help, just arguing. I look around to see the same gray haired lady and my mom. They have moved out of direct sight, standing between the graffiti tomb and the one next to it.