Page 47 of The House on Prytania
There were murmurs of appreciation from the group and a bobbing nod from Melanie. I could hear the faint melody of “SOS” coming from her earbuds. I slid a glance toward Sarah, noticing her tightly clenched hands, and her lips that were now almost white from being pressed together.
I nudged her. “You okay?” I whispered.
She nodded without looking at me, her gaze focusing on the wall of tombs.
Mary continued. “Sometimes, like in the great yellow fever epidemics of 1878 and 1905, there were too many members of the same family dying, so they had to resort to temporary tombs until the year and a day had passed, and then the remains would be interred in the family vault.”
“People bled from their eyes.” Sarah’s voice rang out clearly. “And vomited blood. Some of them weren’t dead yet when they were put in the tombs.”
Everyone turned to look at Sarah. Mary’s smile slipped. “That’s right. You’ve been studying your New Orleans history! More than forty-one thousand people died of yellow fever during the great epidemics between 1817 and 1905. Entire families were wiped out. You can imagine the rush the city was in to inter victims. At that time, the going belief was that the bodies of the infected could continue to spread disease, so time was of the essence.” She smiled uncomfortably at Sarah. “So, yes, sometimes mistakes were made.” On a cheerier note she added, “And from that comes another familiar saying, ‘saved by the bell.’ People were so fearful of being accidentally buried alive that there began a new practice where people would be buried with bells that they could ring for attention if they woke up inside a tomb.”
Everyone, except for Sarah, smiled and nodded. Melanie noticed and unclenched Sarah’s hands and placed one of them in her own. Melanie popped out one of her earbuds. “We can leave now. Or I can let you use one of these. It’s up to you.”
Sarah shook her head, her chin jutting forward stubbornly, just as I’d noticed our dad doing during an argument. I did the same thing,as had been pointed out once or twice. “I’m fine.” She indicated the group, which had moved on. “Let’s catch up.” She dropped Melanie’s hand and walked forward to join the group.
We continued to follow Mary, listening to the interesting histories of the tombs and the families who resided within them, as well as stories about the larger monuments of the fraternal and military societies within the city. We were standing near one of these, a monument for firefighters with an old-fashioned fire truck carved into the front, when I realized that Sarah wasn’t with us.
I poked Jolene in the arm, and when she shook her head after I’d asked if she’d seen where Sarah had gone, I told her to stay with Melanie and said that I would go find my sister. When Mary wasn’t looking, I ducked behind a tomb and began walking, calling Sarah’s name while looking in the spaces between structures.
I found her standing outside the freshly painted iron gate of a well-tended family tomb, the two large urns standing guard at the sealed door filled with fresh flowers. A large stone lion, its mouth open in mid-growl, perched at the ready atop the mausoleum, the muscles and sinews of his legs and chest taut and primed, ready to pounce on an intruder.
Sensing my presence, Sarah spoke without looking at me. “I guess this family doesn’t believe in angels for protection.”
I started to laugh, relieved that Sarah was acting normal, but then I saw the family name etched into the marble.broussard.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“She brought me here.”
“Adele?”
Sarah shook her head. “No. The little girl. She took my hand and brought me.”
“What little girl?” I asked, looking around.
Sarah gave me a half grin. “Not the kind you can see.”
I nodded, feeling for the second time that day the small flash of unwanted and unexpected jealousy. “Who is she? Or was, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been looking at all these names on the front,trying to figure it out. There are lots of family members here, including extended members, like in-laws, I’m guessing, because of the different last names. I think there are over thirty names here, but I can’t get close enough to read them.”
I pulled out my phone to take pictures, but the battery, which had been fully charged when I’d entered the cemetery, was now dead. “Here,” Sarah said, handing me her phone. Moving quickly before the battery drained, I snapped pictures of the tomb, including all the names, the flowers, and the menacing lion perched on top, its stone eyes narrowed as it appeared to focus on us.
“Do you recognize any of the names?” Sarah asked.
“Some. Jeanne Broussard was the woman who was murdered in my house by her own father, Antoine. And I see her uncle Frank is interred here, too. The fact that they’ve all ended up together would be enough of a reason for Jeanne to be haunting the cemetery, I guess.”
Sarah shook her head. “Maybe, but it would be weird for her to appear to me as a little girl.”
“Sarah! Nola!”
We both turned to see Melanie tottering in her high heels toward us over the dirt and gravel of the cemetery street. Her appearance surprised me, as I’d assumed she was too absorbed in her personal ABBA concert to notice that we were missing.
She came to stand next to us and looked up at the tomb for less than three seconds. “We’ve got to go. We shouldn’t be here.” Melanie grabbed an arm of each of us and began dragging us away. I wanted to stop and ask why, but when I noticed the matching expressions she and Sarah wore, I closed my mouth.
Mary sent us a disapproving glance as we rejoined the group. “Remember, everyone, that we need to stay in a group. This is for your own safety.” She continued the tour, but of the four of us, only Jolene appeared to be listening.
When we were finally outside the cemetery gates, Melanie took hold of Sarah’s hands and began chafing them between her own.“They’re ice-cold, Sarah.” She took out a pair of warm leather gloves from her purse. “Here, put these on.”
