I just couldn't take the questions, the worry and yet another interrogation about my stupid brother. Who, it seemed, had disappeared right from the face of the earth. He, at least, hadn't been hidden in Treme'. Sylv, I bet, had gone on back to Mama's shop, running orders and cash with Uncle Aron like the world was not rattling and spinning to an end around him.
I could stand a little rattling myself but it seemed the only dang thing in my future was yet another round of dominoes with Bobby and more readings from the Psalms to ease Mrs. Matthew's worry over her own end coming. And the storm, that had blown in with a vengeance.
Bobby's voice was monotone and thin as she read the Scriptures, like a bristle of dandelions in a storm, but I did my best to keep from judging her. She was, after all, reading to her dying grandmother.
"For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked leads to destruction."
Even in that low, even tone, the verse was a nice thought. The wicked would be punished, so the Lord promised. Men who lied and hurt, like Ripper. Men and women, like Dempsey's parents, who struck out in hatred to reign in their own child with violence. People like Joe Andres who thought the world and those in it were here for their own sick needs. All, according to Scripture, would be handed a dose of justice. They and their destruction would not be looked over. They would not be protected in the end.
Would we?
My mama was making hooch and selling it to drunks and whores. She did make some to heal and help, but was that enough? Sylv snuck into Lily's room when her house was settled and dark so he could kiss her and touch her like it was just something to do because he'd got the notion to do it. Did that make my mother and brother wicked? Did the bad they did get cancelled for the times they were good?
It was a thought that came heavy on my mind as I listened from the front porch of the Matthews' small house as Bobby kept on with the Psalms, reading louder now to be heard over the storm. I wasn't thinking of much but how we'd all be dealt with when our time came. I wasn't even worrying over the wind and rain that fell onto the street around that small cottage in buckets and sheets.
Then, out of nowhere, there came a chill with that wind and something dark and listless fell over me. A feeling took root inside my belly and stayed there as Bobby's voice went on with no movement in the sound at all. That feeling kept my eyes unfocused and the chill on my skin the lower Bobby's voice sounded and the heavier the whip of wind and rain came down around me. The feeling that something was going to happen. Something bad.
I blinked, trying to bring myself from the sadness that took over. That's why I didn't notice the hunched form darting toward the house, rail thin but tall. His slacks were slicked snuggly around his thighs and the umbrella he held was broken on one side.
"Sookie!" my brother shouted, giving up on the umbrella and throwing it to the ground when he reached the Matthews' porch. He waved quickly, his long, slim fingers like the flaps of a flag. "Come on here, come now!"
Sylv tore off his wet jacket, holding over both our heads when I met him in the street, huddled close and already dripping as he led me away from the Matthews' cottage, down toward the front side of Treme'.
"Uncle Aron got one of those fast and loose ladies from the brothel to give us a ride out of the city." He pulled me closer toward him when a thick band of rain and wind sloshed against us. "Mama wants to head on to Atlanta. The storm is getting too bad, folks say the levies won't hold and it's gonna drown us all."
"She's a little late," I said nodding toward the line of cars and trucks already backed up, horns blaring with stragglers hanging off the back cabs and bumpers like rats on a sinking ship. "The traffic will be stupid."
"Well, at least we'll be headed in the right direction."
We passed another line of cars, these with damn fools not giving a single care to the corners of the streets where the police huddled together watching the crowd weaving out of the city.
I didn't like the look of one of them policemen especially. He had pock marks all over his face and a mean little frown bunched under the sparse mustache he wore. Him I'd seen more than once sniffing around when Uncle Aron and Sylv walked ahead of me, to clear the path from busybodies that might be curious about what I carried in my basket.
"What about Bastie?"
"She caught a ride from cousin Ethel. They're head out toward their kin in Virginia." When I didn't say anything, Sylv glanced down at me, putting his arm around my shoulder. "She's snug as a bug." I snorted out a laugh and my brother stopped walking, moving his chin down. "What is it? You look vexed."