Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

Whenever Hattie felt about to lose heart over the travel preparations, she turned her thoughts to the gardens they would see. She talked to Indigo about the English gardens and the Italian gardens and all the new flowers and shrubs they would see. Indigo was not convinced; she took Hattie by the hand and walked with her to the red garden to point out that they already had plenty of flowers and shrubs. Hattie had to agree, but added that in England the climate was much different and so the trees, plants, and shrubs also grew much differently there than here. Indigo was going to see all of this for herself, Hattie reminded her. In the last weeks before departure, the child had become quiet and withdrawn, preferring to play with the monkey in the greenhouse. It was plain that the child did not want to part with the monkey; she had asked Hattie three times if the monkey might go along with them.

Each time Hattie had smiled and shook her head gently; she reassured the child that the monkey would be there when they returned.

“Linnaeus would hate the heat and noise — he will be more comfortable and safer if he stays home.”

“He might get sad and die if we all leave him,” Indigo persisted. Her voice rose perceptibly.

That night she dreamed she was in her bedroom, where she awoke before dawn to the monkey’s terrified screams. In the dream Indigo ran to the glass house, where she found the monkey’s cage splashed with blood; she nudged something bloody with her foot and realized it was the freshly skinned hide of her beloved Linnaeus. She ran to the kitchen, where the fire in the cookstove crackled as it burned; she heard muffled monkey cries from inside the oven. Just as she opened the heavy oven door the cook strode in with a big butcher knife and grabbed her by the hair and she screamed for Sister Salt and woke herself up.

She crept outside in the dark to the glass house to be certain Linnaeus was safe. The cook hated her most, that was plain, but now the cook hated Linnaeus too, because he was her friend. Indigo hugged Linnaeus and whispered that she would come back for him. She told him her secret: The train was about to take her home; Hattie had told her they were traveling far to the east, just the direction Indigo needed to go, and a few miles west of Needles, when the train slowed down, she was going to jump off the train when the others were asleep. She would find Sister Salt and they would come get Linnaeus and he would live with them and always be safe.

When Hattie found the child in the morning, she was asleep with Linnaeus curled up beside her on his pallet. Hattie discussed the child’s fears with Edward, who admitted that he had been taken aback by the ill temper displayed by the cook toward the child. He was confident, as the child learned more of civilized customs, the cook would mind her manners as well. The downstairs maid betrayed no ill feeling, but she had only just been hired when the child appeared. The household staff would benefit from their absence; they would have time to rest and adjust to the changes in the household. Hattie nodded earnestly.

She was concerned about their itinerary now that Indigo was coming along; perhaps it would be wise to reconsider the length of their visit in New York.

“I hoped we might arrange to depart sooner — while the weather for the crossing is still relatively calm. Later in the season the storms arrive — the child would be terrified.”

“Yes, of course. I agree absolutely.”

Hattie was quite fond of her father and mother, but she was not eager to return so soon to Oyster Bay and the whirl of teas and dinner parties her mother and Edward’s sister would organize to honor their visit. During the dinners and festivities that had celebrated their engagement she had commented that she felt she was on display, and Edward reminded her that he was himself a subject of curiosity because of his expeditions abroad.

Hattie felt tears spring into her eyes when she saw the child and the monkey cling to each other as they watched the luggage and trunks carried outside to the coach. She gently guided Indigo and the monkey away from the activity to the shady garden near the glass house, where the maid brought a tray with bread and milk and fresh grapes. Hattie watched the maid’s expression as she spread the cloth and set the plates on the lawn in front of the child and the monkey; she was curious to see if the new maid had been poisoned by the cook’s ill will toward the child. Hattie was already thinking about the changes in the household she would make after they returned from abroad.

The bulk of the trunks and luggage had already been sent to the train station the day before; now the last few valises were loaded on the coach. As departure time neared, the child held the monkey, who clutched her shoulder tightly; from time to time she whispered to the little creature, which seemed soothed by her words.

Hattie gently lifted Linnaeus from Indigo’s arms and gave him to the maid, who smiled and allowed the little creature to perch on her shoulder. Linnaeus wanted to leap into the carriage but the maid gently restrained him. Indigo watched the white girl closely to see if she liked Linnaeus or if she was only pretending. Indigo watched the cook’s fat face for a reaction to the maid with the monkey and saw hatred redden her cheeks. The cook needed someone to hate; with Indigo gone, she would hate the monkey and grow to hate the maid by association. Hattie and Edward had taken the young woman aside to reiterate instructions on the care and feeding of the monkey. The maid had been directed to feed Linnaeus and clean his cage each day, and above all, she was to play with him and take him for walks. Hattie explained all this to Indigo so she would not worry about Linnaeus while they were away, but Indigo was not convinced. Just as Edward knelt down to lift Indigo into the coach, she stepped forward and stood directly in front of the cook.

“Don’t hurt the monkey,” Indigo told her, “or you’ll go to jail!”

Edward and Hattie were too shocked to speak, and the cook blushed beet red. There was no more to say. As Edward lifted Indigo into the coach she burst into tears, and Linnaeus began chattering frantically. Edward followed Hattie inside and the coachman shut the door.

THE CHILD covered her ears with both hands as the coach pulled away from the gate and the monkey screamed and fought the maid, who held him. Edward pointed out the Indian school as the coach passed by, but the child only buried her face deep in the cushion of the seat. The drive to the train station in downtown Riverside gave Hattie a last chance to ponder their undertaking; if the child became ill or unhappy and uncooperative, the journey might be delayed or even ended. Hattie had not discussed Indigo’s future with Edward, but he seemed to understand how attached Hattie had become to the child.

Indigo gripped Hattie’s hand tighter and tighter as she smelled the coal smoke and heard the sounds of the locomotive. The sleeping compartments and the little parlor of the train car looked nothing like the train car with wooden benches that Indigo and the other Indian children had ridden.

Not long after the train left Riverside, the waiter brought a tray of covered dishes to the parlor car, where they ate fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy while the groves of lemon and orange trees passed outside the window. After lunch, Hattie unpacked a few of the books she’d brought along for herself and the child, Chapters on Flowers, Shrubs in the Garden and Their Legends , and for fun, a book of Chinese stories about a monkey. She had packed a small traveler’s atlas of Europe to teach Indigo geography.