Serafina's Promise Read online

  like a lost and hungry kitten,

  but Gogo stays quiet

  as the moon.

  I bury my head in Papa’s

  wide, sturdy shoulders

  and cry.

  You’re safe. Bondye bon,

  Papa says and hugs us all

  for a long time.

  We can build another home.

  The important thing

  is that we’re together.

  You’re safe.

  We follow a swampy

  new path out of the city.

  Water remains thick

  around Papa’s ankles,

  but already the sun

  has baked our clothes dry.

  Every few minutes

  Manman squeaks softly.

  Papa reaches for her hand.

  Mwen regrèt, he says.

  Why is Papa sorry?

  It’s not his fault

  the rains came.

  Walking close together,

  we climb a mountain

  I have never seen before.

  The path is long and steep

  and far from home.

  Tiny, pretty colored shacks

  dot the hillside,

  but there are no pink flowers

  or wild thyme.

  We climb and climb

  until we find a wide-open space

  far away from other houses.

  That night we sleep

  on leaf-covered stones.

  We wait for the earth to dry

  and try to ignore

  the grumble in our stomachs.

  I wonder about my friends.

  Did Nadia find her mother?

  Where is Julie Marie?

  What happened to Banza?

  I listen to the crickets

  and tree frogs,

  and to Papa’s broken voice

  comforting Manman.

  Look, he whispers,

  the stars still shine.

  Gogo squeezes my hand.

  I have a surprise, she says.

  In the silvery hilltop darkness,

  she hands me my doctor bell.

  It twinkles

  like a misplaced star.

  The next day, Gogo explores.

  Manman and I sift

  through roots and rocks

  to clear a space for our new house.

  While we work,

  I worry about my friends.

  Where are they?

  I worry about Banza

  and Baby Pierre.

  Who will visit his little grave

  and talk to him?

  Manman tries to cheer me.

  Did you know my papa liked

  to sing? she asks. Just like your papa!

  Together we would shake dry gourds

  and march through our garden,

  waking up the sleeping seeds

  with our silly songs.

  Manman touches my face.

  Her fingers smell of dirt and roots.

  Life is hard, Serafina, but we always

  work and hope for something better.

  She reaches into her pocket,

  then wraps my fingers

  around the small heart-shaped rock

  that I gave her on Flag Day.

  I love you, Serafina,

  and nothing is stronger than love.

  No matter what happens,

  we beat the drum and we dance again.

  After work, Papa lugs home

  a striped bedsheet

  filled with slabs of wood,

  crumpled tin,

  and scraps from other people’s

  deserted houses.

  It takes Papa longer

  to walk to the city now,

  but he doesn’t complain.

  There’s more space here, he says.

  He smiles at Manman.

  We’ll build a new house,

  a stronger house.

  Then he looks at Gogo and me.

  He empties his pocket

  and shows us tiny packages

  of paper-wrapped seeds.

  We even have room for a garden, he says.

  We’ll plant basil and thyme,

  horsemint, hot peppers,

  amaranth, and tomatoes.

  He gives Gogo the seeds,

  reaches for my hand,

  and twirls me through the grass.

  For the first time in two days,

  I feel a smile on my face.

  Oh, how I love my papa!

  First we need to clear a spot,

  Gogo says the very next morning.

  After I gather water and wood,

  I help Gogo remove rocks,

  twigs, and broken branches

  from a sunny space

  beside the place

  where Papa will build our house.

  Gogo shows me how to plant seeds.

  Not too close, not too deep.

  Give your seeds space to sleep.

  Clearing the land is hard work,

  but I’ve never seen Gogo so happy.

  We’ll need extra water for our seeds,

  she says.

  As I carry my bucket

  down the long, winding gully

  that leads to the ravine,

  I wonder again

  where my friends were

  when the rains came.

  Where are Julie Marie and Nadia now?

  What happened to Nadia’s mother?

  Who’ll take care of Nadia

  if her mother is gone?

  Who would take care of me

  if something happened to Manman?

  Papa could lift me above the flood,

  and Gogo could tell me stories,

  but who would make sure I ate enough,

  and remind me to wash my hands

  after I played with Banza?

  Who would clean my clothes

  and let me listen to her broken heart?

  Even an empty bucket feels heavy

  when I think of losing Manman.

  I try to cheer myself

  with thoughts of tiny seeds

  snuggled in the ground,

  waiting to grow.

  But all my thoughts

  lead back to my lost friends.

  Church is just three days away.

  I hope when Sunday comes,

  we’ll all be together again.

  My other hopes—

  of going to school

  and becoming a doctor

  with Julie Marie—

  feel like faraway dreams

  belonging to somebody else.

  On Saturday, Manman and Gogo

  walk with Papa into the city.

  Papa has given them a few coins

  to buy new clothes

  from the used clothes

  piled on every corner.

  Manman asks me

  to come along.

  I have never passed up

  a trip to the city,

  but now the walk is long.

  My heart and bones

  are heavy as cinder blocks.

  I shake my head.

  Manman studies me,

  worry in her eyes.

  Ser—

  I’m okay, I tell her. Just tired.

  Manman strokes my cheek.

  We won’t be too long.

  I promise.

  As I pull the tiny weeds

  that popped up overnight,

  my friends drift into my mind.

  Why didn’t I wave to Nadia

  at the parade?

  What would Julie Marie say

  if she knew

  my dream of becoming a doctor

  had floated away?

  What about Banza?

  Where is he?

  In my mind, I see him

  wandering alone and hungry,

  with no one to sneak him food

  or pull the prickles from his paws.

  Will I ever see any of the
m again?

  Before I know it,

  the burrs and brambles

  that twist around my heart

  break apart,

  and I choke on a flood of tears.

  For a long time,

  I sit in the garden

  and let myself cry.

  It feels strange

  to be so alone,

  with no one

  to cheer me

  with riddles or songs,

  or sloppy dog kisses.

  Every time I think I’m empty,

  the tears swell and burst again.

  I rub my eyes and my nose,

  take a deep breath,

  and stand up.

  Manman and Gogo

  will be home soon.

  There’s work to do.

  The water bucket

  is propped against our stack of wood.

  Papa says it will be weeks

  before he has enough boards

  to begin to build our house.

  I miss the comfort of walls

  and a roof,

  the cozy shelter

  of being inside.

  When I get to the ravine,

  I dip the bucket

  deep, deep down

  and watch the water

  bubble and flow.

  My thoughts are so far away

  that I don’t even greet the girl

  kneeling by the water’s edge,

  scrubbing clothes.

  A seabird flies overhead.

  The girl looks up.

  Tiny braids spiral down

  her forehead.

  Her dark eyes are as shiny

  as the seeds of the sapote fruit.

  Julie Marie?!

  I shout.

  She drops the shirt she’s washing.

  Serafina?!

  I drop my bucket.

  We race into each other’s arms,

  hugging and squeezing

  so tight we can’t breathe.

  Finally questions tumble out:

  Did your house get washed away too?

  What happened to Nadia?

  The roof blew off and the walls caved in!

  I saw her mother disappear—

  We’re all safe—

  My family too.

  Julie Marie looks at the clothes

  at her feet.

  These are all we have left.

  But we’re safe! She says.

  And we found each other!

  Small shirts, large shirts,

  small shorts, large shorts,

  flowered skirts,

  and brightly colored dresses.

  I help Julie Marie pound and rub,

  dip and rinse, until our fingers

  are tiny wrinkled twigs.

  Suddenly I love doing chores!

  Uncle Bouki, Uncle Bouki,

  Julie Marie sings.

  We hang wet clothes

  on spiny bushes and scrubby trees.

  For the first time

  since the rains came,

  I sing too.

  Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?

  After all the clothes are hung,

  Julie Marie and I talk.

  I tell her how Manman

  doesn’t want me to go to school.

  How I should be happy

  with what I have.

  I think Manman is right.

  I should just stay home

  and help her and Gogo.

  Julie Marie’s eyes widen

  in disbelief.

  I look down at my bare feet.

  The flood washed away

  my courage,

  I say quietly.

  But, Serafina, the flood is over.

  Don’t let it destroy our dream.

  Without dreams the world

  is only dirt and dust.

  I study Julie Marie’s bright face.

  How can she have so much faith

  when her family struggles every day,

  when she might never

  have enough money

  for books and a uniform?

  Her hope wakes mine

  from its sleep.

  I’ll think about it, I say.

  Julie Marie smiles.

  Bon! Thinking leads to dreaming!

  We head home.

  Julie Marie walks one way.

  I walk the other.

  When I see Manman and Gogo

  climbing the hill,

  I race to meet them.

  Words tumble

  out of my mouth.

  I found Julie Marie!

  Her family settled not far from us.

  I was getting water

  and she was washing clothes!

  Just like at home!

  Bondye bon! Gogo says.

  Manman puts down

  her silver tub.

  She hugs me,

  smoothes the hair

  from my face,

  and kisses me.

  I’m so happy for you, Serafina!

  I’m so happy for you both.

  Now come with me.

  I have a surprise for you.

  Together we walk

  back to the ravine.

  Manman spreads new clothes

  on a large rock.

  For Papa,

  two shirts and a pair of shorts.

  For Manman,

  a bright blue blouse and a skirt

  decorated with small yellow stars.

  For Gogo,

  a brown dress large enough

  to make two dresses.

  Finally Manman unrolls

  a shiny green dress.

  Tiny pink stitches

  stretch across the top.

  Tiny pink flowers

  dance along the bottom.

  For me? I ask.

  Manman smiles and nods.

  I take the dress in my arms and twirl.

  We soak the clothes in watery vinegar

  and pound them with a heavy stick.

  To banish bad spirits, Manman says.

  How could bad spirits

  hide in such a beautiful dress?

  In the morning,

  I put on my new dress

  and we parade to church.

  I link arms with Julie Marie.

  Behind us, the grown-ups

  talk quietly.

  I hope we see Nadia, I say.

  Then I remember the parade,

  and sagging regret spoils

  my new-dress feeling.

  When we finally reach the church,

  my legs are as weak and floppy

  as a papaya stem.

  The priest kisses the altar

  and sings, Bondye bon!

  Bondye bon! we all sing.

  We raise our arms

  and clap our hands.

  Bondye bon! God is good!

  God is good,

  but still people disappeared

  in the flood.

  Still people died.

  The priest reads off a

  list of names.

  He tells us about each one.

  An old man who carved birds

  from pieces of wood.

  A woman who took care

  of orphaned children.

  Nadia’s mother.

  Julie Marie squeezes my hand.

  I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

  Other people have relocated,

  the priest says.

  We are not sure where.

  On the way home,

  we talk quietly

  like grown-ups.

  I wonder if we’ll ever

  see Nadia again,

  Julie Marie says.

  I hope so, I say

  and wish I had waved

  when I had the chance.

  Papa brings home more seeds—

  beans, sweet potatoes,

  spinach, and peppermint.

  Gogo and I clear more land.

  Now I gather water
>
  four times a day.

  Twice for Manman

  and twice for our garden.

  At night, Gogo tells me

  about each plant.

  If you burn two basil leaves

  on a piece of charcoal,

  she says,

  you’ll know if you’ll have

  a happy marriage.

  Leaves that sputter and snap

  mean trouble.

  Leaves that burn quietly

  promise happiness.

  Did you burn basil leaves

  when you met Granpè?

  I ask.

  Gogo’s voice is sad.

  The leaves burned slowly,

  but not long enough.

  In one corner of the garden

  there’s a patch of rocky soil.

  Gogo says nothing will grow there.

  Let me try, I beg.

  Gogo smiles and hands me

  peppermint seeds to plant.

  I water them

  and say a little prayer.

  I weed around them

  and make a little promise.

  If you grow leaves, little seeds,

  we’ll dress you in ribbons

  and bring you to the city!

  Gogo laughs, but in time,

  I know my happy little seeds

  will grow!

  After work,

  every day for weeks

  and weeks and weeks,

  we clear away

  fallen branches

  and small rocks.

  June melts into July

  and July into August.

  Papa drags up

  more slats

  of rotting wood

  and more sheets

  of discarded tin.

  He brings home

  more bent nails

  and rusty bolts.

  Manman’s belly is wider

  than a watermelon,

  but still she helps us

  measure and hold,

  lift and hammer.

  Julie Marie’s papa helps too.

  When at last

  our new house is done,

  Manman washes

  the striped sheet

  and hangs it up,

  changing one room

  into two.

  Straw on the floor

  for Gogo and me.

  Straw on the floor

  for Papa, Manman,

  and the new baby

  when it comes.

  Gogo says babies

  are a blessing from God.

  Every night I pray

  this baby will live

  and bless my family.

  The day after the house

  is finished,

  Manman is too tired

  to go with Gogo to the city

  to sell our basil and mint.

  I wish I could go instead,

  but Gogo says I must stay

  and finish my chores.

  Tim tim, Julie Marie calls

  from outside our door.

  She carefully balances