Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

The rocky dry hills and their people were poor; their lives were a struggle here; that was why the Blessed Mother showed herself here; the people here needed her. Although she didn’t see the Messiah or the rest of the family or her mother with the dancers, Indigo was much heartened; all who are lost will be found, a voice inside her said; the voice came from the Messiah, Indigo was certain.

Edward rejoined them as the crowd began to disperse. He saw the women and even some of the men had been crying. He thought Hattie and the child were rather subdued but he chalked that up to fatigue. He was still a bit out of breath himself from the exertion of carrying the tripod and the camera case, heavy now with dozens of twig cuttings carefully rolled in oil cloth to sustain them until they returned to the hotel. There he would hollow out little receptacles in the potatoes to provide the moisture and nutrients that would sustain the cuttings on their long journey to California.

The buggy ride back to the hotel in Cervione was long, but the night air coolness was invigorating. Edward was in rare high spirits and talked excitedly about the joint venture with Dr. Gates — shares in the citron stock in exchange for shares in the meteor iron mine. Hattie let Edward talk while she considered how to describe what she had seen on the schoolhouse wall; she barely held her temper the first time Edward wisecracked about “religious hysteria.” Briefly she thought he might understand if only she explained it in the right words, but as he went on about drilling machines to mine the meteor crater in Arizona, she realized it was no use, not right now.

Fatigue overtook her, limb by limb, until she could not keep her eyes open; Indigo was already asleep, curled up on the buggy seat. As she drifted off to sleep, she recalled the light in Aunt Bronwyn’s garden that night — now she was certain it wasn’t a dream; it was true; she must write to her at once and tell her about that night and what they’d seen today. Indigo had seen it too, and now the child was so happy and excited before she fell asleep, she asked Hattie how far they were from Jerusalem. Far away, Hattie told her, but much closer than before. Tomorrow Hattie would bring out the atlas for the train ride back to Bastia, and they’d have a geography lesson on the Holy Land.

The ship departed Bastia for Livorno on the evening tide; the light breeze on deck was cool and invigorating as Hattie and Indigo watched the silhouette of the shore recede. A lovely half-moon floated above them in an ocean of stars, and when Hattie pointed to it Indigo smiled and nodded her head. Yes, the eye of the big snake was watching out for them — that’s what Grandma said. The wide band of bright stars was her belly and chest, though of course she was much too big to be seen from earth.

When they returned to the cabin Edward was busily wrapping the twig cuttings, their tips stuck in cubes of potato. Later she would be embarrassed she never questioned Edward’s authority to cut the twigs from the venerable orchards; it was for science, she thought.

No, she did not suspect anything was amiss until the customs officer on the pier in Livorno motioned for his two assistants to unload the hand trolley stacked with their luggage.

Hattie had walked ahead with Indigo, who was terribly anxious to get to the hotel, where she was sure they would find Rainbow safely in his brass cage waiting for her. She reassured the child the customs inspection would not take long, but when she glanced back to see if Edward was coming along yet, she was shocked to see Edward surrounded by customs officers. Hattie took Indigo’s hand firmly in hers and hurried back to find clothing and personal items deliberately scattered over the inspection table. The citron cuttings were in neat rows. They had also set aside the little sacks of gladiolus corms and seeds Laura gave them as well as the seeds Aunt Bronwyn gave Indigo.

Hattie tried to go to Edward’s side, but the customs officers politely blocked her path. It was not possible, they said, and motioned for her and the child to step back. Hattie assumed they would be reunited momentarily, so she did not insist. Seconds later she was shocked to see the customs officers lead Edward away; Hattie called out his name, and for an instant he turned his head, and their eyes met for an instant before the officers moved him along. She could not forget the expression in his eyes because its meaning eluded her, yet it remained just near enough to bother her. What expression had she expected to see?

Indigo took Edward’s arrest in stride; Mama and Grandma used to get arrested — it didn’t mean anything, she tried to reassure Hattie. She was more concerned about the delay; she wanted to get to the hotel to see if Rainbow was found. She sketched and colored a drawing of a green, blue, and yellow parrot while Hattie answered the officers’ questions.

Her husband had received a cablegram of authorization in Genoa only last week, Hattie told them. She had seen the two envelopes in his breast pocket when he returned from the consulate. It would be a simple matter, would it not, to ask the cable office to check their records. The customs officers asked no further questions but requested she remain at the American consulate until further notice; they brought around a cab that took her and the child to the consulate.

The deputy consul was on vacation and his assistant away in Rome; the clerk in charge, a dour American with dirty cuffs, announced, in any event, they could do nothing for Americans caught smuggling. Hattie protested; her husband had special authorization from the U.S. Agriculture secretary himself! The clerk stared at her for a moment, his eyes grotesquely magnified by his spectacles; then he rudely turned away and showed her and the child to the door of a sitting room set aside for American citizens in distress.

Hattie had not cried earlier when she saw all their belongings scattered; nor had she cried when the authorities marched Edward away, because then she still believed it was all a misunderstanding. But as she guided Indigo ahead of her into the small dingy room, furnished only with a dark leather sofa and a table and chair, Hattie began to cry.

She sat on the edge of sofa and stared straight ahead at the glass doors to the balcony. Indigo squeezed her hand and whispered, “Don’t worry, Hattie. Please don’t cry.” Indigo wasn’t afraid, because the police here did not shove or kick them the way the Indian police and soldiers did in Arizona, and they brought Hattie and Indigo to the consulate as soon as Hattie answered their questions.

To cheer her up, Indigo talked about the way the Indian police tied their ankles and wrists so she and Sister Salt couldn’t get away; she told Hattie the stories about the times Grandma Fleet was caught by soldiers or by the Indian police, only to escape later; Mama even escaped Fort Yuma, though it took her more than a year. Hattie mustn’t be sad — at home people got arrested for no reason all the time. There was nothing to be ashamed of; this wasn’t bad at all.

Hattie was quite touched by Indigo’s efforts to cheer her and she had to smile at Indigo’s confidence that the police here were not so bad; as she listened, she was shocked at the routine brutality the child described. Indigo was happy to be telling Hattie stories because the telling took her mind off Rainbow; she was certain he was waiting for her at the hotel. If they hadn’t arrested Edward, she and Rainbow would already be together again, playing with the quartz pebbles Indigo picked up near the schoolhouse with the miraculous wall.

Indigo sketched and colored gladiolus in her notebook. She recopied the pages of text that she’d copied from Laura’s gladiolus books because it helped her to remember the Latin names. One hour passed and then two; Hattie had no idea how long they would be detained there; both she and the child were hungry and exhausted. When she went downstairs with a ten-lire note to ask if they might get something to eat, the American clerk glared at her but snatched the ten lire from the counter and called a young Italian boy from the back to bring them the bread and milk Hattie requested.