Southern Ruby

by Belinda Alexandra

  ‘Oh, no!’ I said, horrified at the thought. ‘Thanks. I’ll make some calls.’

  He indicated the garage with a nod of his head. ‘Go fill the car now. This city is full of people who wait until the last minute before leaving. You don’t want to be left short.’

  He returned to his task of putting away anything that could become a projectile. It wasn’t the right time to talk about fixing the porch. As I turned back to the house, I glanced at the neighbours’ gardens. Basketball hoops, kiddie pools and garden ornaments were out in full view. If anybody else was worried about a potential hurricane, they weren’t showing it.

  I thought of something and called back to Oliver. ‘What’s its name?’

  He put down the flower pot he was lifting and looked at me. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You said the storm has been given a name?’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, nodding to show he understood. ‘Katrina. Tropical Storm Katrina.’

  Lorena had already left for the day, but had posted a note on the refrigerator to say that Elliot had called. My stomach sank. I’d promised the previous night to call him first thing in the morning, but in all the excitement with the trunk I’d forgotten. He’d think I was a flake.

  I dialled his number, but when he recognised my voice he sounded as cheerful as ever. ‘Hey, Amandine! I tried your cell too but you didn’t answer.’

  ‘I was at Terence’s,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call —’

  ‘You don’t have to explain,’ he said easily. ‘I was wondering if you would like to come out tonight? I could take you to Snug Harbor.’

  I would have liked nothing more than to go out with Elliot, but with all that had happened with the trunk I wanted to stay with Grandma Ruby.

  ‘My grandmother’s unwell,’ I told him, then almost kicked myself. He’d think I was trying to blow him off for sure now. ‘Would you like to come here?’ I quickly added. ‘I can make dinner.’

  ‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘Your grandmother sounded nice on the phone the other day. I’d like to meet her.’

  We agreed on six-thirty for Elliot to come over, then I went into a mild panic when I remembered his tiny but well-equipped kitchen. He was probably an excellent cook. What was I going to make to impress him given all Grandma Ruby’s dietary restrictions? Did we even have any food in the fridge?

  I opened it to see that it was well-stocked with condiments and fruit and vegetables. ‘Thank you, Lorena!’ That emergency over, I started thinking about my hair, which was sticking out in all directions from the humidity.

  I put the pamphlet Oliver had given me on the hall table. Elliot hadn’t mentioned anything about a dangerous storm. Perhaps Oliver was one of those people who became alarmed by anything.

  Elliot arrived with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of red tulips for Grandma Ruby and one of blue delphiniums and hydrangeas for me.

  ‘How did you know blue was my favourite colour?’ I asked, leading him to the kitchen and filling two vases with water.

  ‘Well, every time I’ve seen you so far you’ve been wearing something blue,’ he said, his eyes travelling from my navy sandals to my retro strapless turquoise dress.

  It made me smile to think Elliot was a man who noticed details. He was nicely decked out himself, in a spotted grey short-sleeved shirt and buff-coloured pants. But we were both outshone when Grandma Ruby sashayed into the kitchen in a billowy tropical tunic top teamed with white capri pants and a pair of strappy wedges. She was like a magnetic force field and Elliot couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  I held up the vase with the red tulips in it. ‘Elliot brought you these.’

  ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ exclaimed Grandma Ruby, taking the vase and admiring the flowers. She patted Elliot on the shoulder. ‘You are as cute in person as you are on the telephone. If only I was thirty years younger, you’d be my type.’

  With her eyelashes fluttering, she caught Elliot in the beam of her Southern belle charm. Another girl might be annoyed at her grandmother flirting with her boyfriend, but I was grateful. The previous night and this morning had been emotional for both of us and I knew she was putting on a brave face for our guest.

  Flambeau came strutting inside to check out Elliot too.

  ‘You have a pet rooster?’ Elliot said, crouching down to pat him. ‘That’s so cool.’

  ‘Elliot has a squirrel named Duke,’ I told Grandma Ruby.

  ‘After Duke Ellington, of course. Is he as debonair as the man?’ she asked.

  ‘He tries,’ replied Elliot, pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at Grandma Ruby. ‘He likes grooming himself and likes to charm the ladies, but he’s a noisy eater.’

  Grandma Ruby laughed. It pleased me to see her and Elliot get along so well.

  ‘Why don’t you two sit down and have a chat,’ I told them. ‘Dinner is almost ready.’

  While I warmed the soup, Grandma Ruby and Elliot went to the parlour. I tried to listen to what they were saying, but the sizzle of the onion I was frying for a risotto drowned them out. Flambeau stayed in the kitchen with me, watching my every move with curiosity. I gave him a strawberry and he pecked at it with relish, looking up every so often to make googly eyes at me.

  ‘Well, it’s only fair,’ I said, nodding towards the parlour. ‘Grandma Ruby steals my boyfriend, so I’ll steal hers.’

  ‘What are you two talking about in here?’ asked Grandma Ruby, coming into the kitchen. She rubbed Flambeau’s neck. ‘I see Amandine is winning you over with treats.’

  I’d intended for us to sit in the kitchen, but when Grandma Ruby saw that I’d laid out the placemats there, she shook her head. ‘We are dressed up and it’s a lovely evening; let’s eat in the dining room. I’ll light the candles.’

  I thought of the dining room as her sacred place. If she was inviting Elliot in there, she must think he was pretty special.

  When the soup was ready, I ladled it into Limoges bowls from the buffet cupboard in the dining room. When Elliot came in with Grandma Ruby, he noticed the extra place settings but didn’t say anything. I felt like I was introducing him to my family. Then he impressed me again with his gentlemanly manners by pulling out the chairs for me and Grandma Ruby, and pouring the Chardonnay.

  ‘Amandine, what delight have you made for us here?’ asked Grandma Ruby, peering into the bowl I’d placed before her.

  ‘That’s sweet potato soup, and for the main we have sun-dried tomato risotto, and for dessert I’ve poached some pears,’ I replied, feeling proud of myself for having produced a reasonable dinner from what was available in the kitchen.

  Grandma Ruby and Elliot both murmured their enthusiastic appreciation. This is how I want to live, I thought. With love, elegance and good company.

  Elliot’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he looked at me. ‘How are your lessons with Terence going?’

  I stiffened. ‘Oh, I haven’t told Grandma Ruby about those yet. I was going to surprise her when I’d mastered the pieces a bit better.’

  ‘Well, you’ve surprised me,’ she said brightly. ‘Who is Terence?’

  I didn’t want it to come out that he lived in the Lower Ninth Ward so I quickly answered, ‘He’s a jazz enthusiast who knew Dad.’

  Dad! My mouth clamped shut as soon as I realised what I’d said. I’d never referred to my father as intimately as that before. He’d always been a stranger. I looked around the room where the whole Lalande family used to take their meals. For most of my life I hadn’t even known some of them existed and now I felt that I belonged to them.

  ‘Terence?’ asked Grandma Ruby, as if trying to recall something. ‘What’s his last name?’

  It occurred to me that I didn’t know. I looked to Elliot.

  ‘Bartholomew,’ he said helpfully.

  ‘Terence Bartholomew?’ Grandma Ruby shook her head. ‘I don’t recall Dale mentioning anyone by that name. But my son knew so many people in this town — I couldn’t keep up with them all.’

  I was worr
ied she was going to ask me more questions about Terence that would reveal where he lived. I wanted her to meet him first, so she would be assured that he would take care of me when I went to see him. I tried to change the subject by offering to play the pieces that I’d been learning after dinner, although I didn’t feel I had them up to scratch.

  ‘That would be delightful,’ said Grandma Ruby.

  When dinner was over, and I’d served port at Grandma Ruby’s insistence, we moved to the music room. Elliot and Grandma Ruby sat down to hear me play and I realised as I opened the lid of the piano that I hadn’t performed for anyone since my final examination in high school.

  I played a chord progression to warm up, then stared at the keys: the same keys my virtuoso father had made sing with his music. I didn’t feel ready to play those pieces for Grandma Ruby, and then I remembered that she’d called me a perfectionist. Was that what had always stood in my way? A desire to be perfect to make up for never quite feeling whole?

  I wondered what my father would have done in the same situation. Then I recalled his words in the radio interview I had listened to with Elliot: What I’m passionate about is music and being able to share it with others. My father would have had a good time and been grateful that he could share his talent.

  The tension drained out of my arms. I played the first piece that Terence had taught me, the one with a powerful swing pattern. I performed it much better than I’d expected and with feeling.

  When I’d finished, Grandma Ruby stood up and applauded. ‘What a granddaughter I have!’ she cried. ‘She’s full of wonderful surprises. She’s lovely, she can cook and she can play the piano!’ Then she turned to Elliot, who was beaming with pride at my achievement. ‘I really have to meet this Terence,’ she told him. ‘He’s obviously a good teacher.’

  Elliot glanced at me and saw my concern that more questions were about to be asked, so he jumped up and offered to play some pieces himself. He had a nice touch at the piano and a broad repertoire. He played ‘You Go to My Head’, ‘Stormy Weather’, ‘Take the “A” Train’, and other jazz favourites; and his version of ‘Manteca’ got Grandma Ruby up and dancing a sexy salsa. When he slowed down and started playing ‘Summertime’, I couldn’t resist joining in and singing the lyrics. It was a sultry sensual tune, so perfect for a hot evening in New Orleans.

  Elliot turned around and looked at me. ‘I didn’t know you could sing! What a voice, Amandine!’

  ‘She’s a natural,’ said Grandma Ruby, clasping her hands together. ‘She’s so like her father, I can’t believe it!’

  I felt a wave of tenderness for them both. I was becoming a different person in New Orleans: more outgoing, more vibrant. Maybe all I’d needed was some encouragement.

  After playing ‘In a Sentimental Mood’, Elliot glanced at his watch and apologised that he’d have to leave as he had a summer class to teach in the morning. Grandma Ruby yawned and excused herself to go to bed, but I knew she was only pretending she was tired so Elliot and I could be alone together.

  We walked out to the entrance hall and Elliot’s eyes fell to the escape route pamphlet I’d left on the table there.

  ‘Oliver, the gardener, gave it to me,’ I told him. ‘My aunt and uncle are out of town so I’m not sure what to do. He told me I should book some hotels in case the tropical storm that’s brewing in the Bahamas comes this way.’

  Elliot touched my arm. ‘I watched it on the news before I came. It’s still out over the Atlantic. We’ve got some time before we’ll know for certain where it will make landfall. Don’t worry, if there is any danger, I’ll come and drive you and your grandmother out of town. My sister has a big rambling house in Baton Rouge and loves guests. You’d both be welcome to stay a few days.’

  Before stepping out the door, he kissed me so tenderly my toes curled with pleasure.

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile, stock up on bottled water, batteries and packaged food. Sometimes even when a storm bypasses us it puts the utilities out for a while.’

  I waved as Elliot backed the car down the driveway to the street. My knight in shining armour, I thought. I’d never had one of those before.

  I locked the door and walked up the stairs, revelling in the good feelings of the evening. Terence had told me that if I wanted to, I could be an architect and a musician. It seemed a world of rich possibilities was opening up before me.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Amanda

  When I awoke the next morning, I lay in bed and stared out the window. It was a beautiful sunny day with a shimmering blue sky. Not the sort of day that signalled impending doom.

  I sang ‘Summertime’ as I showered, recalling the fun of the previous evening, then dressed in a navy tulip skirt and a white top with a keyhole neckline. ‘Looking good, Amandine,’ I said, winking at my glowing reflection.

  I dabbed moisturiser on my face but no make-up. I no longer felt I needed it. Optimism hummed through my veins. Blaine’s Wiccan friend Zeline had said I was a young woman on the verge of a breakthrough. Was this it?

  Lorena was vacuuming the hall carpet when I came out of my room. ‘Your grandmother is downstairs,’ she told me, turning off the vacuum cleaner. ‘I don’t think she’s well. Perhaps you should take her to the doctor?’

  My good mood drained away like water down a plughole. I rushed into the sitting room to find Grandma Ruby lying on the sofa with her hand pressed to her forehead and her eyes closed.

  ‘Grandma Ruby?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’

  She let her hand slip to her side and opened her eyes. They were sunken with dark circles under them. She shook her head weakly.

  I’d seen that look before when I was a volunteer for fun runs. The dry lips and pinched skin were signs of dehydration.

  I went to the kitchen and poured a tall glass of water then added a slice of lemon to it.

  While Grandma Ruby sipped the water, I dialled Aunt Louise’s mobile number but it went straight to her message bank. I tried Uncle Jonathan’s and the same thing happened. Surely when Aunt Louise had said they’d be out of communication until Monday, she hadn’t really meant it? Who disappeared from civilisation these days? I’d try again later.

  Even after a second glass of water, in which I’d dissolved a little salt and honey, Grandma Ruby wasn’t looking any better.

  ‘I’ll take you to your doctor,’ I told her. ‘I’ll call now and tell them we’re coming.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not that bad, Amandine. As I get older the heat agrees with me less, that’s all.’

  The house was comfortably cool so I doubted the weather was the real culprit. I called directories and got them to connect me to Galafate Antiques.

  When Blaine answered, my words came out in a rush. ‘Grandma Ruby’s sick. I think she needs to go to her doctor but she says she doesn’t want to.’

  ‘I’ll be over right away,’ he said.

  When Blaine arrived, he took one look at Grandma Ruby and said, ‘Madame Ruby, we are not going to argue about this. I’ve already called Doctor Wilson and he is expecting us in an hour.’

  ‘All right, I’ll go,’ she said, sitting up and smoothing her hair. ‘But only because I’ll have the two of you at me in stereo if I don’t.’

  ‘I suggest we go in Louise’s Prius,’ said Blaine, helping Grandma Ruby to her feet. ‘We’ve got some time on our hands and Amandine should learn to drive American-style while she’s here.’

  It was a good idea. If there was an emergency and I couldn’t reach him or Elliot, I needed to be able to take Grandma Ruby to the hospital myself.

  The first thing I did after opening the garage door and helping Grandma Ruby into the back seat of the Prius was to get in the right side of the car when the steering wheel was on the left. I stepped out again and, with a sheepish grin, let Blaine sit there while I got into the driver’s seat. Thank God it’s an automatic, I thought, putting the key in the ignition. I didn’t know how I would go shift
ing gears with my right hand.

  I reversed down the driveway looking over my left shoulder when I should have been looking over my right.

  ‘Now,’ said Blaine, when I stopped at the gate, ‘we are going to drive s-l-o-w-l-y around the block a few times before we head Uptown. Whenever I have to rent a car in England, I take a few moments to visualise how things are going to be different so I don’t freak out when I get on the motorway from the airport. In your case, you need to be aware of three things: the oncoming traffic is going to be on the left; you have to go into the far lane when doing a left-hand turn; and at roundabouts you go counter-clockwise. Got it?’

  I nodded, although I felt less confident than I had done when I was learning to drive a car. I’d been sixteen then and a know-it-all. I drove up Prytania Street so slowly that a kid on a skateboard overtook us and at the first intersection I stopped and looked in all directions twice over although I had the right of way. But as we continued on through the backstreets and I didn’t run over anyone or cause a head-on collision, I gained confidence and started to drive like someone who’d actually had their licence for seven years.

  ‘You know, Blaine, I would never have guessed it, but you’re as cool as a cucumber in a crisis,’ I told him.

  He moved his hands over his mint shirt and cream trousers. ‘A man who dresses right in the morning can handle anything life throws at him.’

  Although I’d managed the road well, I was befuddled when we arrived at Doctor Wilson’s office and I tried to do a reverse parallel park.

  ‘I’ll park the car,’ said Blaine. ‘You and Madame Ruby go up for the appointment. I’ve got some calls to make — I’ll wait for you here.’

  Doctor Wilson was a softly spoken man with a balding head and grey beard. Although his office had the ubiquitous cream-coloured walls and black leather furniture of a doctor’s rooms, he seemed to have a fascination with horses. On his desk was a pair of prancing stallion bookends and a lamp with a bronze horse’s head as the base. On the wall behind him, surrounded by his framed medical degrees, was an oil painting of a thoroughbred in a stable.