Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

For days Edward had not allowed himself to think about his mission to Corsica and the task that awaited him, but now that departure was imminent, anxious thoughts raced through his mind; if they were delayed, they’d miss the only boat to Bastia until the end of the week. The new pink skin of the scar on his fingers itched and tingled though he rubbed it vigorously. They must leave for the pier at once!

Edward held out his pocket watch to show Hattie how little time they had before the gangplank was pulled up, but she was attempting to console the child. Indigo began to cry at the sight of the concierge with the empty travel cage that must stay behind in case the parrot was found. Hattie tried to console her, but Indigo’s grief was alarming, far more than she ever expressed before. The hotel kitchen staff brought little trays of candies and sweets but Indigo ignored them. She huddled on the big armchair in the hotel lobby with her face buried in her hands.

“I loved him most of all,” she sobbed, and refused to move from the chair; she refused to go anywhere without the parrot.

Hattie was aware of Edward’s increasing annoyance at the possibility their departure might be delayed. Hattie assured Indigo someone would find the bird; she sat down on the divan across from the child and wrote a hurried note to Laura about the lost parrot and the generous reward offered for his return; the hotel employees would carry on the search while they were in Corsica, and notify their friend Laura when the parrot was found. Indigo mustn’t worry; a seaport like Livorno was bound to be familiar with pet parrots — sailors brought back parrots from their travels; someone would care for the lost bird. The weather there was mild; there were vegetable gardens and vines of ripe grapes when Rainbow got hungry. Now they must not delay any longer. Indigo closed her eyes and slowly shook her head; both her hands tightly gripped the arms of the chair; she refused to leave the hotel lobby. Only when Edward approached as if to carry her bodily did Indigo sullenly get to her feet and follow Hattie to the cab waiting outside the hotel.

Hattie pointed out the cab window at the fountain where pigeons drank and bathed while others scrambled for bread crusts the people threw to them, but Indigo refused to look. Instead she stared at a distant point straight ahead and refused to speak or acknowledge them.

Once on board the boat, Hattie tried to humor the grieving child, first by reading aloud from a guide to Corsica, but the child ignored her. She brought out the book of adventures of the stone monkey and began to read but Indigo covered both ears with her hands. Edward was angered by the child’s rejection of Hattie’s efforts; they really must come to an agreement about discipline for the girl. Each day she grew taller and the clothing that once hung loose now fit almost too closely. Far more alarming, however, were the child’s willfulness and absence of humility; her demeanor was that of a sultan, not a lady’s maid.

Indigo refused to touch the soup and bread brought to her. All day and tonight Rainbow had nothing to drink or eat where he was, so Indigo would not drink or eat either. The gust of wind caught him and he landed in the treetop by accident; he only wanted to explore a little. He would not understand why she left him after she promised to always love him and take care of him. Storks and seagulls would try to kill a small bird like him.

Hattie reassured her again someone would find the bird and bring him to the hotel for the reward, but Indigo shook her head angrily and refused to look at her.

The weather for the crossing was perfect — the ocean calm and the atmosphere so clear that off in the distance they saw Elba as they passed. Hattie explained the island’s history, which Indigo ignored except to peer hard into the distance to see some sign of the castle and the tiny kingdom Napoleon made after his first defeat; but the shimmer of the afternoon sunlight off the glassy sea created a glare that made it difficult to see much more than the island’s emerald outline against the turquoise sea.

It was dark when they reached their hotel, one of only four hotels in Bastia. Indigo went straight to the maid’s alcove, or closet, as she called it, and set down her valise next to the narrow bed. Then she defiantly pulled the bedding loose and rolled up in the sheet and blanket on the floor. The night was quite warm and the floor spotlessly clean, so Hattie did not stop the child. The tile floor felt cool to the touch — the child had the right idea on a night like that.

Hattie was relieved Edward was too engrossed in his book on twig grafts to notice Indigo’s display of temper. Otherwise the unpleasant discussion of Indigo’s manners and training might continue. Edward was satisfied Hattie was teaching the child geography and reading and writing on their journey, but a docile willingness to serve must also be cultivated. Hattie felt her pulse surge each time she recalled Edward’s assertion that she was too soft-hearted to discipline the child. Perhaps the task was more than Hattie wanted to take on, but of course it was their duty to educate the child to enable her to survive in the white man’s world.

Indigo dreamed she was flying with Rainbow on her back high over the earth. Below she could see the shimmering aquamarine of the Mediterranean; ahead on the curve of the horizon she saw the stormy dark blue edge of the Atlantic as they flew west. Before very long they were flying high above the Colorado River and then over the sand dunes, where Indigo looked down and saw the old gardens were no longer planted with corn or squash but something else. As Rainbow flew them lower to get a better look, she saw the garden terraces between the dunes were streaked with bright colors of the tall flowering spikes of gladiolus three feet tall. Rainbow landed among the gladiolus of all shades of yellow — from the palest white with only a blush of yellow to a yellow so bright it glowed. Rainbow climbed a tall spike of yellow blossoms speckled with red, and Indigo laughed with delight,

She woke just as the darkness was beginning to fade, and looked for the cage before she remembered he was lost. She hoped the dream of all the blossoming gladiolus meant he would come back to her. Indigo memorized the low green hills behind Livorno’s harbor; to escape the seagulls and storks, she imagined Rainbow flying to the hills where great trees shaded pale orange and pale yellow houses like Laura’s. She recalled too the number of food-bearing trees — olives, acorns, and chestnuts for Rainbow to eat if the grapes, apricots, and peaches were not enough. She felt better as she recalled the train ride from Lucca to Livorno, when she had watched out the train window until dark and saw no end to the fields of wheat, or the vineyards and vegetable gardens.

Italy was the best place to get lost in the summer if you were a parrot, she thought. To be lost in the sweltering dunes above the red muddy river of home might kill a parrot; she must teach him not to fly away before she took him to the old gardens. Great horned owl and redtail hawk and golden eagle all would love to taste a parrot.

♦ ♦ ♦

They checked out of the hotel before dawn to take the train to Cervione; Indigo moved like a sleepwalker and still refused food, though she did take water. Before they left the hotel Edward gave the concierge some coins and the man disappeared into the hotel kitchen; he returned with a burlap sack of potatoes, which Edward tucked into the shipping crate with the camera. Hattie wanted to ask him what he meant to do with the potatoes but decided to wait until he seemed less preoccupied.

The other private compartments on the train were unoccupied, and the conductor who came to take the tickets seemed surprised to see Americans. The only signs of civil unrest they’d seen were a few soldiers at the street corners. The newspapers that Laura consulted before their departure reported no incidents in Corsica. Hattie settled back in her seat and closed her eyes; the motion of the train and its rhythmic creak and clatter enveloped her and were oddly soothing. She was so pleased to have met the professoressa , as gracious and generous as she was interesting; Hattie wished they had had more time in Lucca; they barely got to see the artifacts in the gardens, much less discuss the significance of each figure. Hattie wished she had asked about the luminous glow of the white snake goddess. If she got to know Laura a little better, Hattie thought, she might confide about the strange light, the odd luminous glow she saw in Aunt Bronwyn’s garden.