CHAPTER FIVE
Irene and Ruby listened to Grover’s story and wept for the young man. They knew it happened. It seemed the more he spoke, the more he remembered.
They knew what he was describing happened here in New Orleans. But to hear it from someone who experienced it was something different.
Slavery all over the world was an atrocity. The period of time that Grover lived was one of the worst in the world’s history.
Franklin was born here and became part of the Robicheaux family early on in his life. He was never mistreated, beaten, whipped, or without food and clothing. He had his own small cabin and free rein of the property, serving as Martha’s right-hand man. What happened to Grover was something they were struggling with.
“If he cuts down that tree, I fear that I will cease to exist,” said Grover.
“He ain’t cuttin’ down that tree,” said Irene.
“Irene, if he gets the permits we may not be able to stop him. I don’t want it gone either. Them trees have been there for more than two centuries. It ain’t right, but I’m not sure we can make him stop.”
“I’m gonna find a way,” said Irene, frowning as she stared down at Grover. He was seated cross-legged in front of her and Ruby on the ground. Of course, the ground didn’t bother him much. He felt nothing at this point. She gave him a sad smile.
“Your poor mama and daddy. They must have been worried sick for you,” she said.
“I’ve thought of nothing but them since all this happened. Almost two hundred and forty years of nothing but time to think about them and grieve for them. I should have listened to my mother and stayed in Saint Lucia.”
“You can’t think like that,” said Ruby. “Trust me, second guessin’ yourself ain’t no good.”
“Why is it that the two of you can see me and hear me? Speak to me?”
“I wish we knew,” smirked Ruby. “Irene and me, we’ve been friends for more than seventy years. We knew the moment we laid eyes on one another that we were kindred spirits.”
“You are spirits?” Grover asked innocently.
“No, baby,” chuckled Ruby. “I just meant we were similar in ways that most folks would never understand.”
“Are you Creole?” he asked.
“I guess I’m a bit of everything,” she nodded. “I’m Creole, African, French, Spanish, English, and all me. I think I represent the world and especially New Orleans.”
“It’s taken two hundred years for me to forget the pain,” he whispered with a sad expression. Irene wanted to reach for him, to hug him, but knew that the rest of the world would see her as a crazy old woman hugging empty space.
“Don’t forget that pain, honey,” said Ruby. “It’ll make you stronger, help you to get to where you’re supposed to be.”
“Where is that? I don’t know where I belong any longer. I thought I was going to go to Europe and start my own business. I was going to send money home for my sister’s wedding,” he smiled. Looking toward the river, he stared at the levee.
“None of that was here when I got here. We got off that boat and walked straight toward the old church. This big onewasn’t here then, but there was a church, and I saw that church and just knew it would be okay.”
“Oh, baby,” said Irene, reaching for his hand. Ruby gripped her arm, and Irene looked up at her, seeing her shake her head.
“We got company.”
Irene watched as the man from the previous day walked toward them with three other men.
“Obviously, she’s insane, boys,” laughed the man.
“Boy, you best watch your tone,” growled Ruby. “I’d hate for your penis to fall off.”
The man opened his mouth to speak, but for some strange reason, no sound came out. Ruby just grinned at him. Finally, he backed up and sucked in a deep breath.
“Witches. You’re both witches,” he sneered.
“If I were a witch, you’d be a frog right now,” said Irene. “You don’t deserve to hold public office. You don’t care about this park or this city. I can smell the evil on you.”
