Gardens in the Dunes (53 page)

Read Gardens in the Dunes Online

Authors: Leslie Marmon Silko

BOOK: Gardens in the Dunes
3.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

The buggy passed more roadside orchards of citrons, and Edward saw no one about, not even a dog. Before long the driver stopped the buggy at the front gate of a large old farmhouse and quickly stepped around to help Hattie and Indigo step down. He showed them to the door, which he pushed open with a flourish. Welcome, welcome, came the voices from the next room, and there they found a great table set with many courses and what appeared to be the driver's entire family seated, apparently waiting for their arrival.

Indigo noticed the children her age immediately because they stared at her every move; she saw old grandmas and old grandpas with little children and even a baby on their laps. They were sitting on benches that permitted
them to crowd as many as they could around the table; Indigo was reminded of the time all the strangers came to dance for the Christ when they pressed closer together around the fire to make room for everyone. Indigo pretended not to notice their stares; she looked around and saw the farmhouse was one big room with the stove and kitchen in one end and beds of all sizes and shapes here and there along the walls, with boxes and chests of drawers forming little alcoves, some of which had curtains hung from the ceiling for privacy. The delicious odors of hot bread and cooking food made Indigo hungry for the first time since Rainbow's escape.

They all live here in this one room, Hattie realized as she took her place at the end of the bench next to a shy young woman holding an infant. Indigo slid over closer to Hattie to make room on the bench for Edward, and they ate a wonderful meal that began with sweet peppers stewed with onions, followed by a spaghetti dish with tomatoes and little squids, which Indigo liked a great deal.

After wedges of cheese and ripe soft pears, their host announced that they would all walk together to the little schoolhouse at the edge of the village where the image of Jesus' Blessed Mother recently began to appear on the front wall above the door.

Indigo was wide eyed as she whispered to Hattie; this was it! Indigo could hardly sit still while the others finished eating. Had the Mother of God come alone, or were the other family members and the dancers with the Messiah, camped higher in the mountains? Maybe the Blessed Mother could look across the sea and find Rainbow perched in a potted lemon tree on the ledge of a splashing fountain.

Hattie expected their host and perhaps his immediate family might accompany them to the site of the miraculous wall, but the entire family came in a long procession of sorts. The sun was still blazing hot as they set out. Edward refused offers from the young boys to carry the camera case and the tripod, although his leg was beginning to bother him.

Hattie felt an odd energy, a mood of excitement, among their host's family as they walked along, despite the heat, and she assumed it was due to their visit. Their host explained the miraculous wall brought a steady stream of visitors to their village. The mayor's brother tugged at the edge of his neatly trimmed beard as he explained that recently a disagreement between the townspeople and the church officials sprang up. Since the apparition of Our Lady on the schoolhouse wall, the visitors and pilgrims who used to visit the gold and silver portrait of Mary in the abbey shrine seldom went there anymore. Who could blame them? If they knelt or
stood long enough in front of the schoolhouse wall, they might get to see the Blessed Mother herself!

Dawn and sunset were the best times to look for Our Lady's image; you must close the eyes, pray, and then slowly open the eyes only a little as you focused on the rough stone wall, their host explained. While the group stood with their eyes closed in front of the schoolhouse, Edward set up the camera behind them. After he made the photograph of the group in front of the miraculous wall, he planned to politely excuse himself to make photographs near the citron groves that surrounded the village. He was relieved to have attention focused on the large group gathered at the schoolhouse wall shrine so he could go among the citron trees unnoticed. Then, he would watch for a moment when no one was watching him, to seize the twig knife and quick-quick-quick cut the best citron twig specimens.

The faithful watched the wall, lips moving in silent prayer as he completed preparations. He put his head under the camera cloth to begin to compose the picture when behind him a distance away he became aware of a low sound growing steadily louder, as if a giant swarm of flying insects were approaching, but soon he heard voices raised in anger. As he turned, he saw a strange sight down the road at the schoolhouse: their host with his family standing behind him was in a face-off with another, smaller group of villagers, led by what appeared to be Catholic monks who brandished large crucifixes.

Now the voices grew louder and arguments broke out between the two groups. Hattie became alarmed and took Indigo firmly by the arm to stay close to Edward in case violence erupted. Bloody Corsican feuds were regularly reported in American newspapers. Indigo did not take her eyes off the wall even as Hattie led her away, although the Blessed Mother probably would not come now that she heard the angry voices. Indigo tried to keep her head turned back at the wall as long as possible, until Hattie became impatient and pulled her along to a safe distance from the dispute.

Edward kept watch through the viewfinder and made one good exposure of their host arguing nose to nose with another man as the monks and the others formed a semicircle around them. Hattie tried to follow the argument as both men gestured at the old schoolhouse and then at the abbey on the hill beyond, but she couldn't make out more than a few words.

Edward seemed unconcerned as he moved the camera and tripod to get another view of the altercation. When the second plate was exposed and safely stored, Edward looked up the road for the best grove of the citron
trees, branches arched gracefully over the low rock walls easily within his reach. He carefully balanced the camera and tripod on his shoulder and carried the camera box up the road toward the orchard he'd chosen for its robust trees.

Hattie stayed with Indigo but at a safe distance from the dispute. She felt annoyed that Edward went on with his photographs, but their time there was short. After a time, a friendly woman, their host's sister-in-law, who once traveled in the United States, joined Hattie and Indigo to explain. Recently, church officials contacted the town mayor to order him to put a stop to the devotions at the schoolhouse wall. The mayor replied there was nothing he could do; the image of the Blessed Virgin could not be washed off or painted over—the monks and other church authorities already tried to expose the apparition as a hoax. But the beautiful colored light that formed the image was only enhanced by the whitewash splashed over the wall. Truly this was a miracle, and the people who once went to the abbey for miracles now came here to the street in front of the schoolhouse, where no offerings were required to see the Mother of God.

The abbot alleged the image on the wall was the work of the devil because the miraculous appearance overshadowed the monks' shrine to the portrait of Mary in silver on gold. Still, the people flocked to see the lovely image of Our Lady until the abbot contacted Rome and a monsignor came all the way from Rome and forbade its veneration on pain of excommunication.

By this time other women joined them, curious to hear what their kinswoman told the foreign tourist. Yes, it was true. The abbey was built to house the precious picture of hammered silver on gold. Pilgrims crawled on their knees up the abbey's marble steps to leave offerings. The paralyzed walked; the deaf and blind heard and saw again. When the Greek king lay seriously ill, the abbot himself carried the precious picture to the bedside of the king, who kissed the picture; instantly the illness receded and in a few days the king was well again. Over time, however, the miraculous power of the picture slowly got used up; but now the Blessed Mother herself had come to them.

With Edward barely visible in the distance, bent over his camera, Hattie was grateful for the friendly conversation; at the time she thought his behavior a bit odd, even rude, but he did want to learn all he could about the citron groves while they were there.

Indigo gripped Hattie's hand tightly as she felt the excitement all over her body. The farther east they traveled, the closer they came to the place
the Messiah and his family and followers traveled when they left the mountains beyond Paiute country.

After some loud words were exchanged, the monks took up their big crucifixes in both hands and led their followers back to the abbey. Hattie and Indigo followed the other women back to the shrine at the wall, although there was no sign of the apparition with its colorful image of blue, green, yellow, and red. The Blessed Mother was not likely to appear so soon after ugly words were exchanged—Indigo remembered that winter the Paiute women warned the people must be kind to one another or the Messiah and his family would not come down from the mountains.

Indigo studied the surface of the schoolhouse wall intently and from time to time she glanced around at the faces of the others who were looking for the Holy Mother's image in case they saw something she couldn't see, but their expressions were wistful and uncertain. Indigo watched the wall long after Hattie turned to chat with their host's friendly sister-in-law, who brought a pitcher and tin cups for water. As the light changed, Indigo began to see tiny reflections glitter on the surface of the whitewashed plaster that she recognized as the flakes of snow that swirled around the dancers the last night when the Messiah appeared with his family. She could make out the forms of the dancers wrapped in their white shawls and the Messiah and his Mother standing in the center of the circle—all were in a beautiful white light reflecting all the colors of the rainbow, lavender, blue, red, green, and yellow—and in that instant Indigo felt the joy and the love that had filled her that night long ago when she stood with Sister Salt, Mama, and Grandma to welcome the Messiah. In that instant joy swept away all her grief, and she felt their love embrace her.

A murmur rose from those closest to the wall, interrupting their conversation, and when Hattie and the others turned to look, the faithful were on their knees in the dirt. Was it an odd reflection off metal or glass nearby? A faint glow suffused the whitewashed wall and Hattie felt her heart beat faster as the glow grew brighter with a subtle iridescence that steadily intensified into a radiance of pure color that left her breathless, almost dizzy.

The strange light in Aunt Bronwyn's garden might have been a dream, but here she was with dozens of witnesses! Where was Edward? He must see this! Hattie turned and saw him, a dark speck in the distance, too far to call; but when she looked back at the wall again the light was already growing faint. She was surprised to feel tears on her cheeks and saw that the others—men as well as women—wept though their faces were full of
joy. Yes, yes, they all spoke excitedly with one another, they had seen her. Yes, Hattie nodded her head, yes! So this was what was called a miracle—she felt wonder and excitement, though she saw the glow of colored light on the wall for only an instant.

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.

Other books

The Homecoming by Patricia Pellicane
It Takes Two by Erin Nicholas
Girl from Jussara by Hettie Ivers
Cadaver Island by Pro Se Press
B0038M1ADS EBOK by Charles W. Hoge M.D.
A Wild Ride by Andrew Grey
Brendon by Nicole Edwards