Dark Water Rising (18 page)

Josiah backed away. “Sorry, miss, but I needs to wash up good ’fore I hep.”

She looked at him, eyes soft and knowing, and he quickly lowered his eyes.

“I’ll send Andy out with some strong soap and a basin of water for you, Josiah. Clean clothes, too,” she said. “Seth and Henry will help get this to the kitchen, and as soon as you’re finished washing, you come up and eat. Seth’s mama has something good waiting for you in the oven.”

He slowly raised his head, but not enough to look her in the eye. “Yes’m, Miss Covington. Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled, and disappeared behind the house.

I stared at Ella Rose, watching her gather tins of sardines and salmon into her apron. Her gentle words to Josiah fluttered inside me, sweet, like the jasmine-scented breeze that swept through my window before the storm.

She smiled at me, and my heart was a sudden maze I couldn’t navigate.

21

Ezra’s eyes had glittered with relief when he saw his grandson. And when I looked at Josiah, it was easy to see that, for him, home had never been the house out back. It had always been his grandfather.

As we walked Henry back downstairs to say good-bye, I wondered if I’d misjudged him those first few days at work. Either that, or the storm had changed his thoughtless ways. Not only had he brought our ration of food to us, but he’d picked up a copy of the Galveston
Daily News
as well, a smaller-than-usual edition printed on a hand press. It provided a long list of the dead, and surprisingly, a short list of the “Not Dead” who had been wrongly reported the day before. Aunt Julia had searched the names intently while we talked, then folded the paper and stuffed it in her apron pocket.

I liked seeing this generous side of Henry, and I guess Aunt Julia was impressed with him, too. Once outside, she smiled her gratitude and invited him to
fetch his four-year-old brother and stay with us, but he refused.

“But Henry,” Ella Rose argued, “you get on so well with Seth, and Spence would have Kate to play with. Won’t you just think about it awhile before you say no?”

He shook his head. “I have a debt to pay, Ella Rose. The Dobsons pulled me and Spence through a window during the storm when I thought we’d drown for sure. Now they need my help to rebuild their house.”

She glanced up at him, and though I could see she’d finally accepted his decision, Henry wasn’t through. He reached for her hand. “Why don’t you come back with me?”

My heart clenched tight at the awful prospect of being without her. I held my breath and waited while she grew still, thinking about his offer.

Finally, she shook her head. “It’s the same for me,” she said. “The Braedens have been good to me, and I don’t want to leave the children.”

He nodded. “Then you should stay.”

“But you
will
come visit as often as you can, won’t you, Henry? And bring Spence?” She wrapped her arms around him. “I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t.”

“I will, I promise.”

He slid from her embrace, grabbed the handle on the empty wagon, and glanced back at me. “Can you walk a ways with me, Seth?”

I nodded, curious about the look he’d tossed me. He gave Ella Rose a last wave, and when we were out of earshot, he told me about finding Mr. Farrell tangled in a tree Sunday morning, drowned, about five blocks away from his home.

“If it hadn’t been for the gap between his front teeth,” Henry said, “I’m not sure I could’ve recognized him.”

I shook my head. It was a great loss. “Mr. Farrell was a good man and a fair boss, and I would’ve liked working for him again one day.”

Henry nodded.

“What about Zach and the rest of the Judsons? Any word of them?”

“They’re gone, Seth. Ever’ last one of them, along with their house.”

The news sank inside me, and for a moment, I felt surprise that Zach’s passing had hit me so hard. I didn’t really know him. Or his family. But thinking back on it, I knew I’d seen something uncommon in this quiet man from the beginning, something that pulled me in, made me care what happened to him. During those few days of working with him, Zach had probably taught me more about myself and what I wanted in life than anyone. Even Papa. If the Good Lord had a reason for bringing this man into my life, that had to be why.

“You knew about the order to barge the bodies out yesterday and bury them at sea, right?” Henry asked.

“Yeah, they made Josiah go.”

“Well, they took them eighteen miles out all right, but even with the weights, hundreds of those bodies washed up on the beach this morning.” He glanced up at me. “They’re still washing in.”

I stopped and stared at him, remembering the fires I’d seen from the rooftop. “They’re burning them now, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “Workers dug trenches at first, but now they’re burning them where they find them, just piling the wreckage on top of them and torching it. It’s a terrible sight, Seth, terrible. But with this heat, the bodies are coming apart and there’s worry about disease, so what else can they do? With your uncle and cousin still missing, I just thought you’d like to know so you can find a way to tell the women.”

Henry looked as sick as I felt. It didn’t sit well with either of us knowing that our missing family would most likely help feed those fires. And telling Aunt Julia was something I didn’t want to think about, but I nodded all the same. “Thanks, Henry. If there’s anything I can do . . .”

He shook his head and shrugged. “There’s nothing much any of us can do.”

I thanked him again for the food, wished him well, and left him to make his way back to the Dobsons.

After Ezra and Josiah ate and rested a bit, they began work on the veranda while I finished up the roof over Ben’s room. Ezra had been told about the fires, but I still didn’t know how to tell Aunt Julia what I’d learned. More plumes of smoke dotted the city, and I worried that she might’ve already seen them from the upstairs windows and figured it out.

I fixed the last shingle to the roof, climbed down the ladder, and went to the kitchen. I found Mama working on Papa’s food basket, and in a hushed voice, I asked where Aunt Julia was.

“In the parlor, scraping mud.”

I nodded and pulled a chair from the table. “Can you sit for a minute? I’ve got something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” She wiped her hands and sat down.

“The bodies Josiah helped bury at sea began washing onto the beach this morning.”

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“They had to start burning them, Mama. I saw the fires from the roof. Henry said they didn’t have a choice.” She stared at me till I had to look away. “We might not have to tell the boys yet, but Aunt Julia needs to know.”

For a long moment, she said nothing, then she leaned across the table and put her hand on mine. “We’ll do it together, right after supper,” she whispered.

I nodded and glanced at the basket. “Are you almost through with Papa’s meals?”

“Almost. Why?”

“Matt needs to be told, too, before he heads off to the railroad bridge.”

Her face crumpled in pain. Like me, she no doubt wished she could protect him from what he’d see, but it was unavoidable. Unless . . .

“Mama,” I said, “let
me
take the basket to Papa tonight.”

She looked up at me, hopeful, but quickly shook her head. “You’re needed here. Matt’s old enough to understand, but Seth, please tell him not to speak of it to the rest of the children, won’t you? Not yet.”

“Yes, ma’am. Just send him to find me before he leaves. I’ll be out front, working on the veranda.”

I headed for the door and felt Mama’s hand on my shoulder. I turned, and she wrapped her arms tight around me.

Aunt Julia’s eyes glistened with tears when Mama and I told her what was taking place all over the city, but she quickly gained her composure and dried her eyes. Ezra had been right in his assessment of her. She refused to share her grief, choosing to keep it locked up tight, as if some precious part of Ben and Uncle Nate might fly away if she opened her heart.

When she went upstairs to bed, I crept off to the roof, too full of misery to stay in the house any longer. From thirty feet in the air I saw at least a dozen fires set at intervals along the beach and throughout the city. The sky blazed, and stars disappeared behind an increasingly sick-sweet smoke.

Before long, I heard the ladder rattle against the eaves. Without a word, Josiah joined me on the dark roof, where we sat like ghosts, watching Galveston burn its dead.

22

Mama found Sarah Louise’s name carved on the board wedged in the magnolia tree. I knew it was bound to happen, but I hadn’t wanted to speak of her, hadn’t wanted to tell anyone that we’d been forced to leave her in that awful place. Something in Mama’s eyes seemed to unlock the words, and like an overturned glass, the story spilled out of me. Later, I found one of Mama’s white paper flowers tacked to the carved board.

Days blurred one into another, filled with repair work and heat from dawn to dusk and marked only by the
Daily News
that Ezra had begun to pick up for us every morning. Aunt Julia and Ella Rose always sat together at the table, head to head, poring over the dead list. Occasionally I’d hear them call out names they knew, or breathe a sigh of relief that a friend they’d searched for wasn’t there. Ben and Uncle Nate would never be on the list. None of us could bring
ourselves to report them dead. Seeing Aunt Julia’s face when she read their names would be more than any of us could bear.

With so little fresh water available, Mama and Aunt Julia had a difficult time clearing the mud away, and tub baths and laundry had become a luxury we couldn’t afford. But by Wednesday evening, we heard that the city mains had been opened. Cheers rang throughout the house, even though we knew it might take a few days for clean water to reach Thirty-fifth Street.

To our amazement, Archer, Uncle Nate’s horse, ambled into the yard that evening, too. A frayed rope dangled from his neck, and Ezra said that he’d likely been found by the militia and used to pull dead wagons. Archer dropped his nose to the ground, snuffling along the salt-crusty mud, searching for something green. We’d have to see about getting a ration of grain and hay tomorrow.