Read Online Cat People by Gary Brandner - Free Book Online
Authors: Gary Brandner
Tags: Horror
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it.
"May I set the table?" she asked.
"'Course not. You don't eat in here, child." Femolly jerked a thumb toward the door leading to the dining room. "You eat out there."
"But this is so much more cheerful."
"You eat out there," Femolly said with finality. "You're not help, you're family. Go 'long now, and I'll bring your breakfast out when it's ready."
Irena sighed and walked out to the dining room. She flicked up the wall switch, but even the lights from the ornate chandelier over the table could not brighten the room's dark woodwork and somber wallpaper. It had been gloomy enough the night before, but today it was even more depressing in comparison with the cheery kitchen.
Irena sat down at the place that had been set for her with Wedgewood china and old polished silver. A crisp linen napkin was folded neatly beside the plate. Hers was the only place set at the table.
Femolly came out of the kitchen carrying the percolator. She poured fragrant chicory coffee into Irena's cup.
"Eggs be ready in a minute."
"Isn't Paul here?" Irena asked.
"Nope."
"I looked into his room. His bed looked as though it hadn't been slept in."
"That so?"
Femolly retreated through the swinging door to the kitchen without further comment. Irena decided that asking direct questions was not the way to get information around here.
The tall woman came back in with a platter of fluffy scrambled eggs and strips of lean bacon. She served a generous portion onto Irena's plate.
"It looks like a pretty day outside," Irena remarked.
"Mm-hmm."
"I was hoping Paul could show me around the city today."
"Shoot, child, you want to see New Orleans, you don't need your brother to drag you around. Every corner got somebody selling a guidebook to the tourists. Down in the Quarter you can't step off the curb without a sightseeing bus running over you. You want to see Uptown, our own St. Charles streetcar as good a way as any."
"I thought Paul might be able to show me some out-of-the-way places."
"Maybe, but if you're willing to spend a few dollars, any taxi driver will take you places even the mayor don't know about. There's hot toast coming."
Femolly barged out through the swinging door again and returned a moment later with a covered plate of toasted sourdough bread and a dish of creamy butter.
"I guess that's what I'll do, then," Irena said, "ride down to the French Quarter and take a sightseeing bus from there."
Femolly's tone softened. "You'll have a good time. People in New Orleans are friendly and always ready to help you out if you got a question."
"Yes, I'm sure I'll find my way around," Irena said. "I'm a little disappointed, that's all."
"Don't let your brother's comin's and goin's bother you, child. His preacher work is a lot like doctorin'. Sometimes he gets a call in the middle of the night and he's got to go rushin' off someplace or other. People call up a doctor to heal the body, and somebody like your brother to heal the soul."
Femolly relaxed into a smile. "Only thing is, you have to look a long time today before you find a doctor who come out in the middle of the night to see you."
"I hope he doesn't have to stay away too long," Irena said. "We haven't really had a chance to talk yet, and there's so much to say."
"You never can tell how long he's gonna be gone," Femolly said. "Sometimes it's two, three days. Other times he's back in a couple hours."
"I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it," Irena said.
"That's the smartest thing to do. You want some more coffee?"
"Not yet, thanks."
"You just holler when you do. I always keep it hot on the stove."
Femolly walked back through the door to the kitchen. Irena admired the woman's regal bearing, her shoulders squared, legs straight and strong under the long skirt. I would like to sketch her, Irena thought.
The idea of sketching cheered her up. She ate the bacon and eggs with more appetite than she believed possible, and drank two more cups of Femolly's coffee.
When
"May I set the table?" she asked.
"'Course not. You don't eat in here, child." Femolly jerked a thumb toward the door leading to the dining room. "You eat out there."
"But this is so much more cheerful."
"You eat out there," Femolly said with finality. "You're not help, you're family. Go 'long now, and I'll bring your breakfast out when it's ready."
Irena sighed and walked out to the dining room. She flicked up the wall switch, but even the lights from the ornate chandelier over the table could not brighten the room's dark woodwork and somber wallpaper. It had been gloomy enough the night before, but today it was even more depressing in comparison with the cheery kitchen.
Irena sat down at the place that had been set for her with Wedgewood china and old polished silver. A crisp linen napkin was folded neatly beside the plate. Hers was the only place set at the table.
Femolly came out of the kitchen carrying the percolator. She poured fragrant chicory coffee into Irena's cup.
"Eggs be ready in a minute."
"Isn't Paul here?" Irena asked.
"Nope."
"I looked into his room. His bed looked as though it hadn't been slept in."
"That so?"
Femolly retreated through the swinging door to the kitchen without further comment. Irena decided that asking direct questions was not the way to get information around here.
The tall woman came back in with a platter of fluffy scrambled eggs and strips of lean bacon. She served a generous portion onto Irena's plate.
"It looks like a pretty day outside," Irena remarked.
"Mm-hmm."
"I was hoping Paul could show me around the city today."
"Shoot, child, you want to see New Orleans, you don't need your brother to drag you around. Every corner got somebody selling a guidebook to the tourists. Down in the Quarter you can't step off the curb without a sightseeing bus running over you. You want to see Uptown, our own St. Charles streetcar as good a way as any."
"I thought Paul might be able to show me some out-of-the-way places."
"Maybe, but if you're willing to spend a few dollars, any taxi driver will take you places even the mayor don't know about. There's hot toast coming."
Femolly barged out through the swinging door again and returned a moment later with a covered plate of toasted sourdough bread and a dish of creamy butter.
"I guess that's what I'll do, then," Irena said, "ride down to the French Quarter and take a sightseeing bus from there."
Femolly's tone softened. "You'll have a good time. People in New Orleans are friendly and always ready to help you out if you got a question."
"Yes, I'm sure I'll find my way around," Irena said. "I'm a little disappointed, that's all."
"Don't let your brother's comin's and goin's bother you, child. His preacher work is a lot like doctorin'. Sometimes he gets a call in the middle of the night and he's got to go rushin' off someplace or other. People call up a doctor to heal the body, and somebody like your brother to heal the soul."
Femolly relaxed into a smile. "Only thing is, you have to look a long time today before you find a doctor who come out in the middle of the night to see you."
"I hope he doesn't have to stay away too long," Irena said. "We haven't really had a chance to talk yet, and there's so much to say."
"You never can tell how long he's gonna be gone," Femolly said. "Sometimes it's two, three days. Other times he's back in a couple hours."
"I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it," Irena said.
"That's the smartest thing to do. You want some more coffee?"
"Not yet, thanks."
"You just holler when you do. I always keep it hot on the stove."
Femolly walked back through the door to the kitchen. Irena admired the woman's regal bearing, her shoulders squared, legs straight and strong under the long skirt. I would like to sketch her, Irena thought.
The idea of sketching cheered her up. She ate the bacon and eggs with more appetite than she believed possible, and drank two more cups of Femolly's coffee.
When
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