Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

The coach had hardly stopped in the driveway when Indigo scrambled out; the instant her feet touched the flagstone driveway, she was off to see Linnaeus, the handle of the parrot cage in one hand, the bunch of bananas clutched in the other. The twilight was bright in the glass house as she entered; Linnaeus was angry and pretended he didn’t remember her. He ignored the fragrant gift of bananas she offered, and sat on his rope swing near the top of his cage and watched the cat climb to the top of the wisteria. Indigo didn’t blame him — locked in the cage the whole time they were gone. The cage door was padlocked so she left the bananas on the floor, pushed against the cage bars, where he could reach them while she went for the key. On the steps outside the glass house, in his travel cage, Rainbow heard her voice and began to squawk. As soon as she unlocked the cage Linnaeus would forgive her!

Edward greeted the household staff and the gardener; the cook had their dinner prepared, and though the table was set, he went immediately to unpack the orchids the coachman carried upstairs to his study. Later he would examine each plant and make note cards with numbers corresponding to numbers on small brass tags tied to each plant. In the morning the glass house must be swept and wood chips and light soil prepared for potting the orchids.

After dinner, Hattie went from room to room to open windows to rid the house of the odor of furniture polish and wax. The dark oak floors and oak paneling all around felt too close after the pale plaster walls and tile of Italy; even the stone walls of Aunt Bronwyn’s old cloister were more welcoming. Dark oak made her think of coffins. The lamps and cabinets were spotless, each in its place just as they had been when Mrs. Palmer was alive. She opened her valise on the bed to unpack the books and papers but could not bring herself to touch her manuscript notes.

Why bother to unpack at all? As soon as she’d obtained the information and the permission to return with Indigo to Arizona, they would be off again. In any case she did not wish to remain in the Palmer house any longer than necessary. She was relieved Edward’s attention was fixed upon the orchids; he slept in the small guest bedroom on the third floor to be closer to his laboratory and the orchids.

Indigo was delighted the next morning when Edward brought her Linnaeus to watch while the gardener and helpers dismantled the monkey cage and moved it out of the glass house to a shady corner at the end of the long arcade. Edward did not want to risk damage to the orchids in the event the clever monkey managed an escape. It took all day for the cage to be moved and reassembled, so Linnaeus ran freely from garden to garden, chased by the kitten.

That night Hattie told Indigo Edward was not inclined to let them take Linnaeus along. Arizona would be difficult enough for a woman with a child and a parrot in tow. Indigo could tell just by the way she said it, Hattie wanted her to have Linnaeus. Indigo wiped a fist across her eyes and swallowed back the hurt; she pretended to accept the decision even as she was making a plan. She brought Linnaeus upstairs to her room and let him crawl under the bedcovers and play with his cat in the trunk and valises that she’d begun to pack.

Those last weeks in Riverside, Indigo kept Linnaeus with her constantly; Hattie even allowed her to keep him in the bedroom, where he slept curled next to her under the covers all night. If Edward noticed, he said nothing despite complaints from the cook about fleas and disease. Linnaeus rode on her right hip, his arms around her waist while Rainbow perched high on her left shoulder out of the little monkey’s reach. As their departure day neared, she told herself, Don’t be afraid, you know what you can do. All day she held Linnaeus and let him play with her fingers and nibble the edges and lobes of her ears. Rainbow was terribly jealous and inflicted the first attack, driven by jealousy, after the monkey’s long tail snaked around behind the bird and startled him. Indigo cried when she saw the blood, and held Linnaeus close the rest of the afternoon while Rainbow sulked in his cage.

The last few weeks before their departure were filled with tension. Edward did not understand why they could not travel to Arizona together; the meteor crater was only three days’ travel by coach from the Colorado River Indian reservation. He saw no reason for the haste, and could easily accompany them if only they’d delay the departure until he had the new orchids securely established. They’d scarcely been home a week, and now Hattie wanted to be off again.

Hattie refused to discuss her plans — why should she, when Edward never bothered to consult her? What was she to say to him anyway — their marriage was a mistake. If it was money Edward wanted for the mine venture, then she would arrange a letter of credit for him. In any case, she vowed never to set eyes on the Australian doctor again. But Edward continued to press her — he wanted to show her the mine site at the meteor crater. Finally she had to confront Edward again about the doctor’s lewd conduct during her illness.

Edward listened and nodded his head, but Hattie could tell by the expression in his eyes, he thought Hattie must have dreamed or hallucinated. He refused to believe the doctor behaved improperly; again he tried to suggest it was the nature of her illness that caused her to mistake the doctor’s medical examination for an assault. This time she slammed the bedroom door in his face as he followed behind her attempting to explain.

The longer she cried, the better she felt — the numb misery washed away in the tears; it was as if her old self molted away as she cried, and with it went the disappointment. She slept soundly until dawn, when a shaft of light came between the curtain and the window and illuminated the wall above the bed. She lay back on the pillow to watch the dust specks glitter, rising and falling in the light. How beautiful and perfect it was — there was no need for anything more, certainly not her attachments to the past. She was up and dressed in no time; she didn’t bother about her hair. She shut the valise without giving the manuscript another look. She wanted to get outside before the others were up. The air was fragrant and cool; the wrens and sparrows chirped, still roosting in the tree. She took a spade from the gardener’s shed and walked toward the sun, past the last rows of lemon trees at the edge of tall weeds and the sand of the desert. A few inches down, the sand was dark and sweet with moisture and she was able to easily dig a resting place for the valise.

As the day of their departure approached, Edward went out of his way to be kind to her and the child; he gave Indigo four hearty specimens of Brassalova nodosa with signs of developing buds despite their long journey. Edward did not press her to wait and travel with him, but he talked about where they should meet: Flagstaff, he thought, because it was halfway between the meteor crater and the Indian reservation on the river. Then one evening over dinner, Edward surprised them with the announcement that he had reconsidered his earlier decision: Indigo should have Linnaeus after all. Further he decided the gardner could tend the orchids without him; his bags were packed. He asked if he might go with them. His change of heart moved Hattie to relent: yes, he might travel with her and the child but only as far as Needles.

As the packing and last-minute arrangements fell into place, Hattie felt a flicker of anticipation and excitement at setting out for Indigo’s homeland in parts unknown. It was just the change she needed.