“What indeed!” Hattie approached for a better look. The strange stone figure had an elongated neck and head, but its large buttocks gave it the appearance of a large phallus. Suddenly Hattie had a stricken expression and quickly stepped back, and Indigo knew at once her guess was correct.
“That’s what I thought it was,” Indigo said, as Hattie hurriedly guided her away. Edward took one look and insisted Indigo go wait in the black garden. Indigo looked to Hattie and Laura, but Edward was adamant.
Laura’s expression was full of concern as the child with her parrot started up the terrace steps; she invited Edward and Hattie to take their time in the rain garden and join her and the child at the garden shed where she made the gladiolus hybrids.
Indigo was still surprised at the sights white people didn’t want children to see. Edward’s puffed-up concern about the male organ was so silly she had to laugh out loud as she reached the top of the rain garden steps; from the corner of her eye she saw Edward whisper to Hattie. By themselves among the tall spikes of black flowers, Indigo made up a song: “See you can’t see what you see. See you can’t see what you see. See, see, see!”
After Laura went ahead with Indigo, Hattie walked with Edward, who took a brisk pace to see the remaining niches, which held artifacts for rain invocations—shallow pottery bowls with painted or incised snakes coiled around the inside, and even more impressive were the pottery snakes sculpted on the shoulders of vases. The bowls were incised with holes that represented raindrops.
In the rain garden’s center niche was a remarkable fired terra-cotta of a snake coiled into a ram’s horn, incised with raindrops and the meandering zigzag representing flowing water. There were no other objectionable objects as Edward had feared but it was just as well Indigo missed the serpent figures. The child was from a culture of snake worshipers and there was no sense in confusing her with the impression the old Europeans were no better than red Indians or black Africans who prayed to snakes. Hattie agreed; they must help the child adjust to the world she was in now.
At the potting shed, they found Indigo at the table with her notebook; carefully she copied the hand-printed words off the envelopes while Laura carefully poured gladiolus seed from the waxed paper envelopes. Laura explained how to prepare the florets of the mother plant for pollination; she let Indigo put the paper bonnet over the plant at the end of the procedure. Only two florets could be fertilized each day. Early morning was better than the heat of the day. Avoid damp or wet weather.
Edward was surprised at the varieties of hybrid colors Laura had developed. The Gladiolus primulinus grew on slender, flexible stems with pure yellow flowers. Laura’s former husband, the army colonel, acquired the rare plants in Africa for her hybrids. Edward thought perhaps hybrid gladiolus might have a future in the southern California climate, where the corms did not have to be taken up each winter.
He found himself a bit irritated at the professoressa’s attention to the child, especially her generous gifts of packets of seeds and corms from her hybrids, although he could see that she made an identical bundle for him and Hattie. It seemed a bit ludicrous for Laura to pretend the Indian child would ever plant the corms or seeds, much less perform the pollination process for hybrids, even if she did take notes on all the necessary steps. Of course Laura could not be expected to know anything about American Indians.
Edward knew all about the process, but Hattie and Indigo were fascinated by the professoressa’s descriptions of the hybrid colors she got the first time she crossed the Gladiolus primulinus with the species Gladiolus gladiolus: she obtained flowers of yellow with a red throat mark, cream yellow, golden yellow with a red-brown splash. She moved on to the dark red and dark rose, at the same time experimenting with blue on light blue and creamy pink with a red spot and a ruffled dark pink with a cream throat. Lavender with purple, tan and brown, brown with a red splash. It was a number of years before she got the black-red and the black-rose flowers and some years of propagating enough corms for the terrace gardens. Currently she was trying to crossbreed the fragrant African species with the European species, but unfortunately the fragrant hybrids did not reproduce themselves.
That evening, newspaper reports of unrest near Rome and points south prompted Laura to insist they remain with her in Lucca at least until the end of the week. But Edward made light of the reports; Corsica could hardly be any more dangerous than southern California, where holdups of coaches and trains still occurred.
Edward fussed with packing long after Hattie was in bed, and it occurred to her he was waiting for her to fall asleep before he came to bed. She hoped they might take up where they’d left off earlier, but when he got in bed beside her he began to talk about the anniversary of his father’s death, which was a few days away. He usually marked that day with a visit to the grave under the orange trees. This year would be the first time he would be away.
Hattie shifted and turned a bit so she was closer to Edward, but he remained motionless as though his voice were coming out of the wall behind the bed. Perhaps the dead forgive the lapses of the living, Hattie suggested softly as she stroked the bedcovers lightly over his chest, but Edward seemed not to hear; he was preoccupied with their departure.
Hattie drifted off to sleep recalling the pictures and statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary standing on a snake. Catechism classes taught Mary was killing the snake, but after seeing the figures in the rain garden, she thought perhaps the Virgin with the snake was based on a figure from earlier times.
That night Indigo dreamed she was back home at the old gardens; but where the sunflowers and corn plants and squash once grew, tall gladiolus bloomed in all colors—red, purple, pink, yellow, orange, white, and black. A delightful fragrance and the hum of the bees filled the canyon. Rainbow flew from flower to flower as if he were a hummingbird, and Linnaeus sat beside her on the sand and picked tiny black seeds from a dried pod. She went to find Mama and Sister Salt at the spring but she found the big rattlesnake instead. “Where’s my corn pollen?” Snake asked, and Indigo woke up.
The next day Laura put them on the train to Livorno, but only after she got promises from them to come stay with her again. She gave them a card with instructions how she might be reached in case they needed her assistance.
♦ ♦ ♦
By the time the train reached Livorno, Edward’s face appeared pale; was he ill? Oh no, he quickly answered, he was only a bit tired. He’d not slept well the night before, he said, but managed a smile for Hattie. Actually he’d barely slept at all; after he managed to fall asleep, he woke shaken and wet with fear from a nightmare about giant African snakes in their bed. Perhaps in her sleep Hattie flung her arm over his shoulder to set off the bad dream.
Of course, all the snake figures he’d seen in the rain garden the previous afternoon were bound to affect his dreams, though yesterday’s terra-cotta snakes were small and European. It seemed more likely the nightmare stemmed from an anecdote Laura told the evening of their arrival; as she showed them around the house, she repeated an old rumor—almost a local legend by now. The foreigners who previously owned the villa kept giant African snakes in the wine cellar, then later abandoned the snakes there. According to the story, the great pythons found their way into the foundations of the villa, where they subsisted on rodents and feral cats. Laura reiterated there were no pythons or any other large snakes on the premises; nonetheless Edward dreamed a giant snake embraced him around the shoulders.
The train’s arrival in Livorno stirred his blood, and the fatigue dissipated; he felt a tingle of anticipation and excitement; at last he was on the threshold to Corsica and the Citrus medica twigs that would free him entirely from debt and secure his share of the family estate. Financial improvements brought other changes as well; actually, the improvement already began on board the ship to Genoa with his acquaintance with Dr. William Gates of Melbourne and a possible investment partnership in meteor ore; the C. medica twigs were to be his collateral. It all would work out ver
y nicely; he knew Hattie wanted to go to Arizona to determine if the child had any living relatives, and Dr. Gates’s meteor crater was only a few hours by train from Flagstaff.
As soon as they were settled in their hotel, Edward took a walk to reconfirm their reservations on the steamship to Bastia the next morning. He wanted no errors or delays; he double-checked to calm his nerves. He was careful to avoid the U.S. consulate lest he be noticed by the authorities there. He was counting on the inefficiency of the civil servants at the Agriculture Department and Mr. Grabb’s busy schedule to give him enough time to carry out his plan. They would assume his reply to their cables had been lost but he would turn back as they had directed; he’d never given them any reason to assume otherwise. Time was of the essence now.
Livorno was a port city, but the downtown area was somewhat low lying and did not always get the breezes off the sea in August. Edward was hot and little out of breath when he reached the steamship office, but an alert young clerk immediately brought him a chair and a glass of water. Edward complimented the clerk on his excellent English, and the young man bowed modestly, replying he had lived two years with an uncle in Chicago.
The reservations for tomorrow were all in order; the clerk carefully printed out receipts good for passage for the three of them. The old injury to the leg was acting up, and the clerk was so hospitable, he sat a while longer. The clerk said he was grateful to have this opportunity to practice his English with an American; British visitors usually declined. Perhaps it was the clerk’s friendliness or simply the heat that caused him to ask about the citron industry. He regretted his indiscretion almost as soon as he spoke, then decided he was silly to worry; the Italian clerk was harmless.
The clerk was quite knowledgeable about the citron since the export of pickled citron rind was primarily from Livorno. As it happened the clerk also knew a good bit about the processing of the Citrus medica from raw rind to candied spice. Edward was pleased to point out that in the United States, candied citron had become one of the most sought after spices for Christmas plum puddings and those rich wedding cakes guests took home to dream on.
Edward listened with great interest to the clerk’s description of the brine tanks used to rot the thick-skinned rinds before it was candied. All this information would be invaluable for Edward’s future work with the citron. He promised to send the clerk the recipe for Christmas fruitcake before he excused himself and thanked the clerk for all the information. The man expressed his regret Edward and his family were departing so soon; otherwise, he might have arranged a tour of a citron processing shed.
Edward felt the ticks of the clock drawing him closer and closer to his destiny; he had no appetite at dinner. Afterward, while Hattie wrote and the child and parrot played on the floor, he tried to concentrate on a review of cutting slips from twigs but found it nearly impossible to concentrate.
Hattie wrote Laura a note of thanks for her generous hospitality and for the wonderful opportunity to see the rare artifacts in their lovely garden settings. She regretted the haste that compelled them to depart so soon, but she hoped to return to Lucca soon.
The child and Hattie slept soundly, but he tossed and turned; a nauseous sensation and pounding of his heart continued until he got up and found the paregoric. He was about to possess the first slips of C. medica out of Corsica! His future depended on the rough-skinned citrons, those ugly little lemons! He tipped the brown glass bottle and tapped its bottom and managed to get a good dose without opening the last bottle. They must find a pharmacist as soon as they returned from Bastia. He lay back on his pillow and floated away in a glow.
The next morning, while the luggage was taken downstairs and Edward and Hattie completed last-minute details before checkout, Indigo played with Rainbow out on the balcony in the fresh air off the ocean and the bright sunshine. Her head over her shoulder, Indigo loved to watch him spread both wings above her like a mighty eagle; as she ran, she felt the weight of his strong little body lift off as his wings flapped harder, but he did not release his grip on her shoulder. Indigo knew he was too smart to let go because his clipped wing feathers wouldn’t carry him. They were having so much fun she did not want to stop although she could see Edward and Hattie were nearly ready to go. She didn’t want to put Rainbow in his travel cage until the last moment. She turned to make a last run with Rainbow up the long balcony when she felt the breeze off the ocean suddenly rise against her face, and an instant later, Rainbow lifted off her shoulder in the wind and landed in the top branches of the big chestnut tree in the hotel garden. Indigo could tell by his expression he was surprised, then delighted to find himself free in the top of the tree. Indigo called his name and he looked at her, but she could see he was much more interested in the tree. She watched him climb, rapidly using his feet and beak, and by the time she ran to tell Hattie, the parrot was no longer visible.
Down in the hotel garden, a small crowd of staff and a few curious gathered around the tree to crane their necks and point up. Hattie stood with her hand on Indigo’s shoulder and tried to reassure her the parrot could not go far with clipped wings; someone would find him and return him. The head gardener boosted one of his assistants into the lower branches and he disappeared up the center of the great tree. More people gathered to watch the man in the tree. Edward noticed even the cabdriver and the hotel porters stopped loading the luggage to look up at the tree.
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 t
he 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.