Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

She immediately signaled the driver to stop and left Hyslop without another word. Tears filled her eyes as she hurried home through the park in the rainy mist. She rearranged her hair as best she could and glanced around to see if any of the picnickers or people strolling with their dogs had witnessed her hasty exit from the carriage; but no one seemed to have noticed. While her confidence in her entire life and her very being were changed forever, ordinary life went on without cease.

Lucille opened the front door, took one look at Hattie, and knew immediately what had happened. “Oh honey! He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Hattie shook her head, but tears filled her eyes as Lucille embraced her gently.

“Please don’t tell Mother,” Hattie whispered. “I’m only shaken up.” After she fell ill, Lucille had to tell Mrs. Abbott, and Hattie admitted Mr. Hyslop’s crime.

The door latch seemed stuck, or maybe she misunderstood how this one worked. There were so many different sorts of door latches at the school, and now here — press down, lift up, twist left, twist right. Indigo put her face close to the glass door and peered inside. At first the objects she saw made no sense to her; then she noticed identical red clay pots with strange skeletons and dried remains of plants all lined up in rows on the floor. She could not see clearly, but there were vines of green leaves and hanging pods of white flowers that formed a canopy above everything in the glass house.

She wasted no more effort on the door latch because all the slanting windows were open, just wide enough that if Indigo lay on her back and made herself as flat as possible, she could get in. As she rolled in, she noticed the warmth and dampness with the wonderful odor of rich earth; there was an odd animal smell as well. The light inside surprised her with its brightness despite the canopy of vines. The smooth gray branches snaked across and enclosed the ceiling entirely and had begun to push outside through the open vent windows in the ceiling. She saw a flash of motion out of the corner of her eye and turned; it was the little hairy man, jumping from side to side of a big cage. The polished brass cage filled the entire east end of the glass house; near the cage, draped with long wisteria blossoms, Indigo noticed a bench carved out of white stone.

“Hello,” she said softly as she approached the cage. “I know you want to get out.” She recognized the latch on the cage door was a close relative of the brass latches on the school’s closets. Out he came, chattering his gratitude. He wrapped his long curling tail around the bars of the cage to steady himself as they studied each other closely. He had shining golden eyes and he seemed to understand the language of the Sand Lizard people when she spoke to him.

“I’m hungry. Is there anything to eat?”

The monkey blinked its eyes and rubbed its hand on its thigh; it looked down inside the cage and Indigo saw the crockery bowls, one full of water, the other with the remains of chopped vegetables and fruit sprinkled with shelled nuts. The monkey looked over its shoulder at Indigo eating from his bowl, then gleefully bounded up the outside of the cage and disappeared into the wisteria. While she ate, she listened to the rustle of the branches and leaves overhead; then a twig of blossoms dropped on the stone floor next to her. She glanced up but saw nothing. Behind her another twig of pendulous blossoms fell, then another and another; as Indigo reached down to pick up a twig, she felt something thud against her back. This time when she looked up she saw bright eyes in the leaves and she laughed. Her mouth and face felt odd; the sounds she made seemed strange because she had not laughed out loud for a long time. Her laughter delighted the little monkey, who raced through the vine canopy throwing down the fragrant blossoms until the gray stone floor was nearly covered.

They played hide-and-seek among the long rows of benches — most were empty, but a number of them were lined with clay pots of shriveled stalks and leaves. They took turns; the monkey hid first. After she found him, she ran as fast as she could and crawled under one of the wicker chairs by the table, where she lay motionless until she felt his little hands pat her on the back. She got up and sat on the wicker settee to rest; the monkey climbed up and sat beside her. She looked around at the glass house and wished Sister Salt could be here to see it for herself; otherwise she might not believe it when Indigo told her.

Indigo laid her head against the arm of the settee and the monkey laid his head against the other arm of the settee. She knew she had to find a place to hide before she fell asleep. Just then the monkey jumped up and stood on the back of the wicker settee; he looked at the door and rubbed his hands together anxiously. Indigo jumped to her feet and ran to the farthest end of the glass house and looked around desperately for cover. She heard the footsteps and then the sound of the door latch, and she had no choice but to crawl over the dead plants in their clay pots and lie facedown as flat as she could make herself so the rows of clay pots and shade might conceal her.

Hattie was unpacking a box of books in her study when she heard Edward call her name. She hurried to the stairs, where Edward met her with a perplexed expression. Had she fastened the latch on the monkey’s cage yesterday? Hattie was irritated that Edward thought she had not properly secured the cage door, but she knew the monkey meant a great deal to him.

He had been out there just now and found the monkey loose in the wisteria, scattering leaves and vines inside the greenhouse. Edward held an empty crockery bowl; the monkey was out of water.

“Oh no!” Hattie put her hand to her cheek. “That can’t be! I filled the bowl with water myself!” She hurried down the stairs and out to the conservatory.

Wilting wisteria blossoms and leaves were strewn all over the floor, and over the benches and old clay pots as well. No harm; the wisteria thrived on severe pruning, and the monkey had only done a bit of thinning. The monkey sat on the top of the cage with his head in the wisteria leaves and refused to come down. Hattie stepped inside the cage and was surprised to see no bits of fruit or vegetable peelings on the cage bottom, where the monkey fastidiously tossed all refuse.

Edward brought a handful of peanuts and waved it invitingly at the monkey, but the little creature refused to come to him.

“Linnaeus! Come down! Come! Linnaeus!” Edward stood on a rattan chair to reach the handful of peanuts higher but the monkey scampered away into the thick green canopy.

“This isn’t like him at all!” Edward continued. “I don’t understand it.” Hattie turned to Edward.

“I know what it might be,” she said, and she began to walk slowly and look under the benches. “Linnaeus has found a new friend.” Edward smiled and nodded his head. Of course, he should have guessed from the start; the little Indian had opened the cage to take the monkey’s food and water.

Edward did not want to crawl under the benches among the clay pots to reach the Indian child. He left Hattie to watch that the Indian child did not escape while he sent the cook in the buggy to alert the boarding school superintendent. Although the child had remained motionless since Hattie first spotted her, Hattie could hear the child’s fast shallow breathing.

“Please don’t be afraid,” Hattie said softly. “Nobody will harm you. Please come out. I won’t let them hurt you.” The monkey climbed down the bars of the cage and crept along under the benches until he was next to the child. Hattie smiled.