The boy came again the next morning; this time Hattie asked for oranges and cheese to go with the milk and bread. She unfastened the latches and Indigo helped her open the doors to the balcony for fresh air; they might as well make themselves at home if they were going to be there long. Indigo went out on the balcony and searched the streets and skyline for the hotel with its big tree where Rainbow escaped. She stood very still and listened for a long time until Hattie asked her what was wrong; while the morning air was still cool, she hoped she might hear Rainbow’s call.
Indigo got discouraged after a while and came in to lie down on the couch. Hattie reminded her if the parrot was in its cage inside the hotel she would not be able to hear him call—she mustn’t give up hope. Hattie was confident, with the help of their friend Laura and perhaps an attorney, the misunderstanding would be cleared up. Hattie reached into her bag and brought out the book of adventures of the monkey king; his wild exploits were just the thing to cheer them up.
Indigo look up at Hattie. How much longer did they have to stay here? Hattie looked down at the book and shook her head. Indigo had been lying down on the couch, her stocking feet curled under her, but now she sat up and restlessly looked out the open doors to the balcony. Hattie went on reading.
Indigo gave a loud sigh; Hattie looked up from the page to see what was the matter. Indigo got up from the couch wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and went out on the balcony to listen again. While she listened for parrot sounds amid the street noise, Indigo watched the donkey carts and buggies in the street and the people come and go on the sidewalks below. Her hair itched because it was dirty; they had not been able to wash or change their clothes. This was beginning to remind Indigo of their captivity by the Indian police before Sister Salt was taken away and Indigo put on a train. If only they could get to the hotel, she was certain Rainbow was waiting there. She was so discouraged.
Edward never wanted Rainbow to come along. The tears came faster as she thought of the little parrot who loved her and trusted she’d come back for him. She set her chin on the balcony railing and didn’t even try to blink away the tears. Tears made everything blurry and she saw two or three of the same object when she looked without wiping her eyes; she didn’t care. Then she noticed a figure at the end of the street rapidly approaching, and recognized something familiar in the purposeful stride. She wiped her eyes and looked again, and sure enough it was their friend Laura, but what was it that she carried? “Rainbow! Rainbow!” Indigo shouted, and from the street below she heard the parrot screech and squawk in reply.
Laura brought more good news: they were free to go. Hattie wasted no time asking questions; she simply wanted to get to the hotel for a bath and a hot meal and bed. But what news did she have about Edward? Laura put her arm around Hattie’s shoulders and told her not to worry; she had posted the bond for Edward’s release and he would be along in an hour or two. Still, Hattie could not shake off the vague dread rising inside herself.
While Hattie poured Laura more tea, Indigo sat on the floor rolling pebbles to the parrot, who caught them in his beak, then let them bounce across the tile floor. Laura amused them with the story of Rainbow’s return and capture at the fountain in the hotel garden. Laura hoped they didn’t mind, but the gardener clipped the parrot’s wing feathers to prevent another escape. Indigo’s face was bright with happiness and again she thanked Laura, who smiled and told her to thank the gardener, not her.
“But it was so thoughtful of you to bring him along when you came to the consulate,” Hattie added. “You’ve been so kind—I don’t know if we could’ve endured another night on that couch!” They had been at the hotel for almost two hours, and still no Edward; Hattie began to have misgivings. A simple misunderstanding would not take so long to resolve; a sick feeling began to overtake her, from her stomach to her head; her toes and fingers tingled as if the supply of blood was cut off; she stood up abruptly but sank down again in the chair.
Laura helped Hattie to the bed and Indigo, the parrot on her shoulder, gently removed Hattie’s shoes as she lay back silently on the pillow with her eyes fixed on the ceiling as tears slid down her cheeks. Laura pulled a chair next to the bed while Indigo refilled the parrot’s pottery cups with fresh water and sunflower seeds.
“I am so sorry,” Laura said in a soft voice; she looked down at her hands in her lap, and Indigo saw she was almost in tears too.
“Goddamn police!” Indigo said to the parrot, and immediately felt better; both women heard her but neither corrected her. All police were the same, she told Rainbow; they worked for the devil, and the soldiers did too. She lined up the pebbles in a row and pretended they were policemen as she took aim and flicked them one by one across the floor with her fingers. Rainbow watched with great interest as the pebbles clattered across the floor tiles.
Hattie gave a loud sigh and dabbed at her eyes and nose with a handkerchief before she turned to Laura, who reached out to pat her hand and began to speak in a low even voice. Ordinarily, the customs officers did not bother to search the luggage of American tourists returning from Corsica, but the authorities were on the lookout for anarchist secret agents since the assassination of King Umberto. Hattie blinked her eyes but otherwise gave no sign she was listening, but Indigo’s ears perked up at the mention of secret agents. She was becoming accustomed to Laura’s voice and accent, which reminded her of the English the Mexican people spoke along the river.
Even so, it was the French customs officials—not the Italians—who guarded the citron industry of Corsica so closely. Laura paused, then in a soft voice asked if Hattie wanted to sleep.
“No,” she said quickly, “please, the sound of your voice is soothing.” Hattie glanced over at the child, who tried to draw in her notebook as the parrot waddled around her and persisted in reaching for the colored pencil between her fingers. Actually it was a game, and Indigo only pretended to draw as she listened to Laura and Hattie.
The killing of the king only four years after Italy’s shocking defeat in Abyssinia left the nation stunned. Indigo watched Laura’s hands—so graceful when she spoke—with the beautiful rings with their lovely glittering stones of purple, green, and blue.
Many felt there was a connection between the army’s humiliation in East Africa and the king’s assassination. The prime minister and his cabinet were forced to resign after the defeat at Aduwa. Nothing was the same after that. Laura’s voice was softer, and she slowly turned the rings on her fingers as she spoke. Many hundreds dead, and thousands held prisoner, forced Italy to acknowledge Abyssinia’s independence. A ransom of millions was paid to the Abyssinian emperor for the return of Italian prisoners.
Hattie sat up and adjusted the pillows to make sure she could hear her friend; Laura’s voice became softer as she described her disbelief and confusion when she learned her husband had been absent from his troops days before the battle. Intelligence reports out of Cairo detailed his comings and goings at the estate of a certain Egyptian munitions dealer a few miles outside of Cairo. Not only had he deserted his command; he had divorced her to start a new life, married to the munitions dealer’s daughter, with a dowry worth millions. Even now Laura’s tone of voice was of one still stunned.
Once the shock had passed, she realized the Egyptians had done her an immeasurable favor; she might have wasted years more of her life with that man in ignorance of his cowardice. This way it was mercifully ended.
They sat in silence for a moment; even the parrot remained motionless on Indigo’s arm. Then Laura excused herself; she knew they needed time to rest; Edward would be coming anytime, and she had to catch the train to Lucca.
After Laura left, all Hattie could think about was what to say to Edward; as his wife and life partner, surely she had a right to know the truth about their Corsican excursion! She distinctly remembered the two cablegrams he picked up at the consulate the day they arrived from Lucca—one was authorization from Washington, he said; but the customs officers found the cables
and their messages were quite the opposite!
Tears filled Hattie’s eyes but she was determined to be strong. When Indigo finished with her bath, Hattie was next; she soaked in the delicious warm water with her eyes closed until the water began to cool. She tried to reconcile her hopes and affection for Edward with the facts before her, but it was impossible—she didn’t know where to begin. Instead she sank until only her nose was above the bathwater; in the warm strange silence underwater she recalled the glowing light in Aunt Bronwyn’s garden, and a feeling of peace filled her. As she rinsed the soap from her hair Hattie pushed all the doubt from her mind; she would make the best of it, whatever happened; what was most important was to reunite the child with her family.
Indigo had been sitting on the floor so long she lost the feeling in both legs; they tingled as she wiggled her feet to make the blood circulate again. She was tired of being indoors and asked Hattie if she and Rainbow could go downstairs to the hotel garden. The hotel staff all smiled and pointed at the parrot on her shoulder and seemed quite pleased to see them together again; the concierge smiled and said something to her in Italian—maybe a friendly reminder not to let the bird get away again.
The big tree in the hotel garden was full of blackbirds chirping and trilling; Indigo asked Rainbow what they were saying. The parrot tipped his head from side to side, then looked at Indigo and stretched both wings out over his back. It was time to go. The afternoon wasn’t as warm as previous days, and Indigo could already see a difference in the position of the sun as it began to move toward the south for winter. The Messiah and the others were probably already on their way home.
Edward did not appear until sundown, long after Laura left. Hattie threw her arms around him in spite of herself. They embraced only briefly; he explained he was exhausted after his ordeal. Fortunately they had allowed him to bathe and change his clothes while in custody. Hattie smiled and shook her head; she and the child had not been so lucky: at the American consulate they shared a couch and had no baths. Edward glanced over at Indigo and the parrot. So the bird was found just as he said it would be! Indigo nodded.
Hattie didn’t know what she expected Edward to say to her but he should have said something—given some expression of regret or sorrow over their detention, since his twig cuttings were the cause. Hattie was about to confront him, but just then there was a knock on the door. Customs authorities had released their luggage and the hotel staff brought it to their suite.
Hattie was shocked when she saw the damage done during the search by customs authorities. The interior linings and the panels behind them were ripped open to expose the wood frame, tin, and leather. Evidently the contents of the luggage were searched, then hastily repacked, because Hattie’s nightgowns, Indigo’s dress shoes, and Edward’s books on citrus horticulture were dumped together helter-skelter in the trunk that had been packed with Edward’s shirts and trousers. The drawers of the big steamer trunks were jammed into the wrong slots; lace edges of handkerchiefs and parts of stockings dangled out. Hattie’s underwear apparently got particular attention because it was wadded up and stuffed into the small leather valise Edward packed with his shoes and slippers. Hattie dropped the valise; she couldn’t touch those undergarments again until they’d been washed.
All of their clothing was wrinkled and soiled from the search. Hattie rescued Indigo’s underwear and dresses from the camera case, where they were stuffed on top of the photographic equipment. Indigo was more concerned with recovering the gladiolus corms and the seeds spilled from their packets into the bottom of the trunk that previously contained Hattie’s books and notes. They both cautioned her to be careful; although Hattie’s books and notes were no longer in the trunk, two square wooden boxes of Edward’s glass negatives were packed with a bathrobe and pair of Edward’s walking shoes. Indigo was worried about the envelopes and tiny boxes of flower and vegetable seeds she had been saving for the gardens in the dunes.
Rainbow was in his cage with the door shut to prevent any damage to the clothes and belongings, but he could see all of the objects, which intrigued him; he protested with a loud series of screeches that caused both Edward and Hattie to look sharply at her and the bird. Indigo could feel the trouble in the air despite the cool breeze from the balcony and windows. Off in the distance, over the evening sounds of the streets, Indigo heard loud laughter.
Hattie was relieved Laura missed the spectacle of the rifled luggage, by far the most humiliating part of their detention. Edward continued to pick through the mess of clothing and papers and books for a clean shirt to send downstairs to be pressed. Did Hattie have anything she wanted to send down for herself or Indigo? Hattie shook her head and sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly too exhausted to look at another trunk, although Edward warned that if any items were missing, they must make a list to present to the American consulate.
Throughout the evening, during dinner and afterward, Edward talked about the beastly customs men—common thieves who pillaged private property—and about travel arrangements, but still Edward made no mention of her and Indigo’s detention. He expressed no regret, nor did he express any gratitude for the sizable bond which Laura pledged on his behalf.
He must be suffering shock from the ordeal, Hattie thought; he really wasn’t himself. Even his appearance seemed changed, though she could not say exactly how. He did not look directly at her but at a point beside her as if he were watching for something. His tone of voice had an uncharacteristic edge of bitterness as he blamed the Plant Industry Bureau and the Department of Agriculture. He had already sent cablegrams to Lowe & Company and to the company attorney, Mr. Grabb.
As Hattie listened a sinking feeling began to overtake her; he had been following a clandestine plan all along. She and the child were his dupes—his decoys! She watched him babble on without bothering to listen. Poor Edward, what a desperate creature you are, she thought. At last she shook her head; tears filled her eyes.
“Please,” she said, “don’t say any more.”
Later, after the lights were out, they lay awake side by side in the bed, careful not to touch each other, and talked in low voices so the child did not awaken. The marriage was over, she said. He gave a loud sigh, but did not reply. That was a sigh of relief, she thought angrily, but had to admit she felt a great deal of relief herself. Still, she cried when she recalled their engagement and the high hopes they’d both had; he patted her hand gently to comfort her. The marriage was doomed from the start, and they both shared the blame.
As the ship was towed away from the pier in Livorno, Indigo held up the cage so Rainbow could say good-bye to Italy. The color of the sea before sundown was so lovely—as clear and blue as the topaz of Laura’s ring. She would miss this color of blue—there was none like it anywhere in California or Arizona.
Part Eight
AT FIRST she had difficulty understanding the language her baby spoke to her from the womb, but then she recognized the Sand Lizard words pronounced in baby talk. She had not heard the Sand Lizard language spoken for a long time, except in dreams. To hear the baby, Sister Salt had to wait until early morning before dawn, after the night shift quit but before the day crews started. She lay as still as she could, holding her breath, and if the baby was awake and turning restlessly, then she could hear it talk—how its voice reached her ears was a mystery. She did not tell Maytha or Vedna because they were likely to blame the voice on witches.
Sister Salt talked to the baby whenever it kicked and moved inside her; she told the little Sand Lizard about their home and the gardens in the dunes where she and Indigo used to play games. There it was peaceful at night with no drunks or fights to send men falling against the tents. She could feel her baby’s impatience grow more urgent.
The baby did not like the noise and the dust. The place was not safe. No place is safe, she told the baby. The baby wanted her to leave at once for the old gardens. How could she leave without Indigo? Indigo was still a child.
“But she i
s not your baby like I am. You don’t breathe for her. You breathe for me!”
Most days he was so busy, Candy did not come to her tent until after midnight, and even then he was only taking a break—the gambling tents were full of players, and sales of beer and barbecued meat were nonstop. She did not see as much of Maytha and Vedna after she quit the laundry. The pregnancy caused her to sleep more, and the twins got busier as more workers arrived to finish the dam. Maytha and Vedna knew Sister Salt wanted company, but usually by the time they bathed in the laundry tent after work (to take advantage of the clean warm water), their “dates” arrived before they had a chance to visit her.
Sundays were days of rest—not because Maytha or Vedna were Christians but because preachers and missionaries descended on the construction camp for Sunday services and scared off their dates. So the three of them decided Sundays would be their day together; after they ate, they talked and laughed as they took turns combing and braiding new satin ribbons into their hair. They were best friends now, and the twins teased each other saying they wished Sister Salt were their twin, not the other.
The camp was a dump, Maytha said, and Vedna and Sister Salt had to agree with her; all the noise and dust drifted to their tents. They were getting tired of sex along the river week after week with the same sweaty workers who never changed what they did; sex with these men was boring and tedious. Luckily the twins had saved almost enough money to retire forever before they died of boredom here.
“It’s so bad Vedna’s started to read the Bible! All the sexy parts in the Old Testament!” The three of them laughed together. Vedna reminded them about the weird stories too—those were even better than the sex. Chariots of fire! Beasts with seven heads!