Now Is the Time to Open Your Heart_ A Novel - Alice Walker [46]
Kate had no trouble imagining the old man. She lingered over his braids. Was it really red string, she wondered, plaited through them, or very frayed ribbon? She thought it was old ribbon. The kind Indians all over the Americas—Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras—liked to wear.
She said, And all he said, all any of them said about the water, was, The bones?
Yep, said Hugh. All they said. My grandmother thought the water might be a cure for arthritis, which she had pretty bad. It wasn’t.
She tried it? asked Kate.
She tried it. Hugh smiled.
Well, years go by, said Hugh, turning slightly on his side. The old man comes one time with his son. A sullen middle-aged Indian and obviously a drunkard. Two Indians instead of one made us nervous. Like maybe they were planning some kind of attack. He laughed. I didn’t care for the son nor he for me. He looked like that Indian leader Dennis Banks only meaner.
It was always astonishing to Kate that you didn’t see Indians in America unless you looked for them. The decades of genocide against them had left survivors with a deep fear of being seen. No mystery either why many did pass themselves off as “newer immigrants.”
So we drove out there and the two of them walked into the little glade where the spring was. The old man was showing it to him, I guess. Maybe he’d been away in prison somewhere, he had that kind of paranoid vibe. He didn’t seem impressed. When they came back he bummed a smoke. The old man had never asked for anything.
The next time the old man came he brought his grandson. The old man was almost blind and when they walked toward the spring the boy placed the old man’s hand on his shoulder. I tried to imagine one of my sons or grandsons walking patiently like that with me. My grandsons play with a little gadget that looks like a handheld TV. They seem to look up from it only when it’s time to eat. When they came back to the car the child looked thoughtful and as if a serious charge had been laid on him.
I told the old man about the energy development company that was going to be digging in the area. He asked when. I told him in the summer. He asked would the spring be dug into. I said yes because that’s where it looked like coal deposits might be found. He asked if we could stop it. I said no.
The next year around Thanksgiving the two of them came again. I told them that what used to be a spring was now a lake. In fact, an underground lake had been found to be the source of the spring.
The old man, completely blind now, didn’t seem surprised. Old Indians never seem surprised though, said Hugh. I don’t know if you ever noticed that.
Kate laughed. She laughed so hard she began to cough. Hugh leaned over and patted her on the back. He looked at her quizzically.
I bet if you offered to give him his land back, she said, catching her breath, he would have looked surprised. After saying this, another wave of laughter shook her.
Hugh didn’t laugh and in fact Kate could see her laughter made him sad.
He was holding his plastic jug, he continued, solemnly. A new one, I noticed, with a stopper instead of a screw top. I was always noticing things about him, his jug, his clothes, his braids, but I never was able to notice him. There was like a fence.
We went out to the lake, which could be seen well before we came to it. At first they just sat looking at it. The boy looking, and the old man asking questions in a language I’d never heard in my life. But a language that the hills all around us and the old trees and the streams knew well. I actually had this thought. It sneaked into my consciousness. But then I squelched it. Then creakily the old man got out of the car and then the boy. And they walked toward the water.
Well, said Hugh, the lake lasted for several months. Then it dried up. The energy development folks were glad because it meant they could drill deeper with less fuss. They’d always intended to get under the lake.
The next year the old man didn’t come. Neither