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CHAPTER 25

Rosana's Garden

      LUCY WAS in a dark place.

      No, she was in the living room, but even with all the lights on, it seemed dark to her. And cold. And all she could do about it was sit and shiver.

      Normalade was fluttering around her, peppering her with shrill questions that struck Lucy like so many rocks: What had made him do that? Was Lucy all right? Why wouldn't Lucy answer her.

      Lucy didn't want to talk to Normalade, because her face hurt. And Normalade's voice hurt her ears. And because. no, Lucy wasn't all right. Maybe she wouldn't ever be all right again. She felt all . . . crushed, like a pack of Saltine Soda Crackers that somebody had stepped on. Her cellophane paper wrap was intact, but inside she was all broken crumbs.

      So Normalade kept getting more and more excited. Once she even she took Lucy by the arm to force her to listen, to make her answer. But her hand closed on the spot where the cane had first hit, and Lucy gasped out, "Don't"

      So Normalade pushed up Lucy's sleeve to look at her arm. As soon as she saw the bruise she murmured, "Oh shit!" and let go again.

      After that she went away and left Lucy in peace.

      Somewhat later, Lucy heard the front door open. Normalade was talking to someone, and without actually thinking about it, Lucy knew the newcomer was Rosana, because a pleasant, slightly Mexican-flavored voice was saying, "When did all this happen?" Presently, Rosana spoke directly to her. "You doing okay?"

      But even for Rosana, Lucy could only shake her head and shiver.

      "All right, hija maybe you should lie down on the sofa a while. How about that?" Rosana took Lucy's hand to help her up, and then said, very sharply, "This child is freezing, Normalade. Get her a blanket or something."

      They helped her over to the couch, and put a pillow behind her back and covered her up with a quilt. And when she began to get warm, the shivering subsided a little.

      Rosana sat down beside her. "Now I won't bother you for long, but I want to find out what hurts you, hija, so we'll know whether to call the doctor."

      Lucy stiffened. No. She couldn't — but as she shook her head, Rosana was saying, "Just to be sure your head's not hurt — can you tell me who I am? What's my name?"

      "Rosana," Lucy mumbled.

      "That's right. That's good. And where are we now — can you tell me that?"

      Lucy said slowly. "In the house. In Los Nietos — I don't know what you want me to . . ." Then she stopped. Talking made her bruised face ache.

      "That's fine — all I need." Rosana gave Lucy's hand a friendly squeeze. "Because you know, you got a pretty good black eye, and I wanted to know if you were still in there."

      Then she said, perfectly naturally, "I'm going to look at your arm now. Normalade said your arm was hurt, too."

      So Lucy obediently showed her the arm, and Rosana made her raise it over her head and move her hand and make a fist. Then she had Lucy turn her face to the light, and she gently touched her aching jaw and cheekbone, and looked searchingly into her eyes. Finally she seemed satisfied. "I think you're okay. You want to talk about this?"

      Instantly, from the other side of the room, Normalade responded. "He was whacking her with the cane — and she just lay there on the floor, taking it Sonofa bitch said he wanted to kill her. Crazy as a loon I had to take the stick away from him! Listen — when I . . ."

      "Normalade," Rosana interrupted gently, "I wanted Lucy to tell me."

      Normalade stopped short. "But I wanted to tell you how it — "

      "And I want to hear it, too. But first — do you suppose you could make some tea? You probably really need some, after all this."

      "Well, I guess I can, but I want to tell you — "

      "Tell me while we drink it."

      With an irritated sound, Normalade went away into the kitchen, and Rosana continued sitting beside Lucy on the couch, patiently holding her hand and saying nothing.

      When Normalade was gone, Lucy looked up and whispered, "She's right, he said he was going to . . ." She closed her eyes. Opened them. "He said I betrayed him."

      "Did you?"

      "No, but he thought so."

      "Angry people say things they don't really mean."

      Lucy was silent for a little. "I keep seeing the cane come down. The cane. And the way he looked at me."

      "I understand," Rosana said quietly. In the pause that followed, Lucy could hear Normalade clattering dishes in the kitchen. But even while she listened, she was seeing the stick come toward her face.

      Rosana said, "Maybe you can rest a little. Just for a little while. If you'll close your eyes, I'll tell you about my house, and my garden. It's my safe place, where nobody can come unless I let them in. I'll share it with you."

      She put her other hand over Lucy's hand that she was holding. "While I tell you, see if you can make a picture in your mind of what I'm saying, just as if you were looking at it. Will you try to do that for me?" She waited for an answer, and not until Lucy nodded did she go on.

      "All right now, try to see this: my house is in the center of a busy city block, but all you can see from the street is a high brick wall with an old door in it. It's a dark wood door, with a dark green trim around it, and it has a round brass doorknob that's almost too big to fit your hand. I keep that brass polished, so it's very shiny. Can you see all that in your mind?" Lucy answered with the ghost of a nod.

      "Good. Right now, the door's unlocked, so all you have to do is reach out and put your hand on the knob," Rosana moved her own hand very gently, as if opening a door, and since she was holding Lucy's hand, Lucy's hand moved with it. "One little push, and it opens right up." And they pushed the door open.

      "You come in to into a dark room, but there's just a little light coming in through the French doors at the far end. Can you see that light, shining in from the garden?"

      As Rosana continued describing it, Lucy really did begin to see it all quite clearly, behind her shut eyes. Yes, there was a light in the distance. Without thinking about it, she nodded an answer. And when she did, the guiding voice said, "Good. Good."

      And now it really seemed that the two of them were moving through a dark room together. Because Rosana was saying, "Come on now, this way — I'm opening the French doors . . . and we're coming out into the light. Here in the garden . . . " And ever so slightly, Lucy nodded her head again.

      "Outdoors here, the patio is just the size of your own living room, but with a big green tree in the center of it, and a clay tile floor and flowerbeds at the edges. But there are solid brick walls all around us, Lucy, to keep us safe. So we're all safe here. You do feel safe, don't you."

      When Rosana asked that question, she gave Lucy's hand a little bit of a squeeze. And Lucy answered it.

      "When I first came here," Rosana said, "This garden was just dirt, with one dead-looking stick in the middle — but I watered it and took care of it, and it grew and grew. That's all it takes to make a place like this: a little time, a little gardening, and you can make yourself a safe place to rest in." There was a little silence.

      "It's nice here, don't you think?" Rosana said.

      And Lucy nodded. Yes, it was nice to be in a safe place like this.

      "But I still have something to show you," Rosana said. "And it's something lovely. You ready? You ready to see it now?"

      "Yes," Lucy whispered. She was ready for something lovely.

      "Okay, stay real still, and look up in the tree." And then Rosana gave a soft, low whistle. A kind of warbling noise. "See up there — did you see it? Where the leaves are thick and green; did you see something white?"

      Had she seen something, Lucy wondered? Maybe just a flash?

      Rosana whistled again and then, "Look now — here he comes, my big white parrot. Isn't he the most beautiful thing? . . . Come down pretty boy, and meet a new friend."

      And even though her eyes were closed, yes, Lucy could see him clearly. He was white as snow, with a crest on his head and pale yellow eyes. He came stepping sidewise along a low branch of the tree, turning his head to look at her, first with one eye and then the other.

      "Hold out your arm," Rosana said, "And he'll come right to you. He likes pretty things — come on, precious, we won't hurt you."

      Rosana let go her hand, and Lucy lifted her arm out of the warm quilt — and sure enough, the bird stepped right down onto her wrist. He really did; she could feel his claws tickle.

      Rosana's voice had dropped almost to a whisper. "Well, he came right to you. That's a real compliment, because he's usually a little shy. But he could tell that you're a friend."

      The white parrot cocked his head to one side. And Lucy put her own head on one side, just as he did, so she could look into his curious, knowing eyes. Then she reached out and touched his feathers — so soft. In the filtered light from the tree above her, they looked almost pink.

      "He'll take a raisin from your fingers, if you offer it. You don't have to be afraid; his beak's sharp, but he won't nip if you go slow."

      Lucy offered the parrot a raisin, and he stretched his neck far out and took it delicately from between her fingers. He was so close, she could see that his heavy curved beak was translucent as a fingernail. He ducked his head, took the raisin in one foot, and began to nibble at it.

      "You know what?" Rosana murmured. "That beautiful boy is almost as old as I am. I got him when I was a tiny child and he was barely out of the egg. And he's been with me all these years — because you know, these old fellows have long, long lives. He's been my life partner."

      Lucy reached up to caress his soft, pinky-white feathers. "What's his name?" Lucy hardly noticed that it still hurt to say it.

      "His name is Querido. Maybe you know that's the Spanish word, 'beloved.'"

      Lucy whispered. "That's exactly what his name should be — Beloved . . . "

      And Rosana murmured, "That's my good child."

      After Lucy had petted Querido a while longer, Rosana asked if Lucy was a little sleepy. When Lucy nodded, Rosana said, "Then I think you should take a little nap. Just sleep a while, and when you wake, you'll feel better."

      Lucy nodded. She'd do that.

      Rosana said, "And while you sleep, you'll be perfectly safe, because I'll be right here with you. Okay?"

      Lucy nodded.

      "Oh — and one more thing, Lucy. While you're asleep, you may hear voices talking, but they won't disturb you; it will just be like sounds on the radio. Okay?"

      And Lucy nodded again.

      From time to time, while Lucy slept, she did hear voices, just as Rosana had said. But it didn't disturb her, because she knew it was just the radio.

      One of the voices was Rosana talking to herself. In the silence before Normalade came back with the tea, Rosana was murmuring: ". . . I wonder it there's a doctor . . . somebody ought to be informed. The old man probably needs full-time care. Who was that friend of Melida's mother, the one who stays with the sick . . . ?"

      Then Normalade's voice: "What were you doing in here, hypnotizing her? I heard you going on about gardens and birds? What was all that?"

      "Nothing to worry about," Rosana answered.

      There was the sound of teacups, and Normalade said, "He sure gave her a lick or two. Honestly, the old man's off his rocker — he's dangerous, and he ought to be put away. I wish I'd never married into this crazy family."

      Lucy was getting cold again, and she shivered and made a sound. But Rosana patted her and said, "That's all right now, you sleep."

      So Lucy did what Rosana said and went back to sleep. Paying no attention to the voices on the radio.

      Normalade was saying, "Listen, Rosana — when you leave here tonight, I want you to take me and Hero to Mama's — because I'm not about to stay out here alone any more. Not one more night with that nutcake in there!" But Lucy was asleep and didn't care.

      Rosana said, "Where's you husband?"

      "Him?" Normalade sniffed. "He took off days ago — the jerk!"

      "Where's he now?"

      "Living over the feed store, I guess. With Tom Tagg, who owns it."

      "Call him. I think you're right that you young women shouldn't be alone tonight."

      "Me? Call him? I'm not going to do that."

      "I think you'd better. I know it's late, but wake him up, if you have to. Tell him what happened, and he'll come."

      "You think so?"

      "I do."

      "Just call over there and wake him up? Hmm. He sure does hate being waked up —" Normalade sounded as if she liked the idea. "Hmm, after what-all's happened — he really would feel like he had to come, wouldn't he?"

      "Call him and find out."

      Beginning to listen, Lucy stirred again, but Rosana patted her. "You're all safe, and you'll feel better when you've had some sleep. You sleep on."

      Lucy nodded. Rosana was right. She slept on.

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