The Late Child (19 page)

A cheerful Indian teenager in the office took her money and offered her a coupon in return.

“Going to the canyon?” he asked.

“Oh, the Grand Canyon—no, we've already been,” Harmony said.

The boy was nice-looking; his black hair was neatly combed.

“No, our canyon,” he said. “The Canyon de Chelly. It is not as big as the Grand Canyon,” he said.

“Well, I guess since we've seen the biggest we might as well keep rolling,” Harmony said.

The Indian boy smiled. “You should see our canyon,” he said. “It's the place where the world began. It's only three miles from here.

“Our canyon is the most beautiful canyon in the world,” the boy added.

“Okay, maybe we'll go,” Harmony said. She didn't want to be impolite to such a nice young man. She didn't really want to see any more canyons, though—she was afraid she might get the feeling she had had on Third Mesa.

The nice young Indian boy came out to clean their windshield, a task Harmony had neglected. Eddie and his dog were awake. When the boy saw that Eddie's dog didn't have a leash, and couldn't be let out to go to the bathroom without the risk of being run over, he quickly produced a piece of twine and made the little dog a temporary leash.

“I hope you go see the canyon,” he said, as he was finishing the windshield.

“Don't tell me we've gone in a circle and come back to the Grand Canyon,” Pat said. “If we have I'll shoot myself.”

“It isn't the Grand Canyon, Pat, it's a canyon where the world began,” Harmony said.

Eddie and his dog had just scrambled back in the car.

“I want to go there at once, Mom,” Eddie said.

“Oh, Eddie, why?” Harmony said. “We already saw the Grand Canyon and it's bigger.”

“Well, I didn't like the Grand Canyon because it wasn't yellow,” Eddie said. “And it wasn't the place where the world began, anyway.”

“Neither is this one,” Neddie said. “God made the world in six days and rested on the seventh.”

“Eddie doesn't believe in the Bible, Neddie,” Harmony said, annoyed that the conversation had veered around to religion.

“But I like Bible stories, sometimes,” Eddie said. “It's okay that they didn't know whales only eat plankton.”

“Neddie don't even believe that stuff about the six days, herself,” Pat said. “If God did make the world in only six days, then no wonder it's so fucked up.”

“Pat, please watch your language,” Harmony said. “Eddie doesn't need to be hearing the
f
word every minute.”

“Then I hope he wears earplugs when your boyfriends are around,” Pat said. “Most of the ones I've met ain't interested in anything except the
f
word and the
f
thing.”

Harmony knew there was some justice in the remark.

“I want to see the canyon anyway,” Eddie insisted. “It
might
be where the world began.”

“Okay, we'll just run over and take a peek,” Neddie said.

On the narrow road south, to the first look-over into the Canyon de Chelly, Eddie suddenly brightened.

“I know what I'll name my dog,” he said. “I'll name him Iggy, after Iggy Pop.”

“Eddie, that's a perfect name,” Harmony said.

“I guess so, if you happen to be one of the lucky millions who know who Iggy Pop is,” Neddie said. “I ain't among the elect.”

“No, and you won't be going to heaven, either,” Pat said. “No woman who lusts after her own brother-in-law has a chance of getting in heaven.”

“Shut up,” Neddie said. “That's enough about that subject.”

“Got your goat, didn't I?” Pat said.

“Pat, she has to drive,” Harmony said. “She doesn't know the road, either.”

“What's that got to do with heaven?” Pat asked.

“You won't be going there either—I wouldn't bring it up, if I was you,” Neddie said.

“I may not go to heaven but at least I can say I wasn't frustrated while I was alive,” Pat said.

The sun was shining brightly and the wind had died. Harmony decided she owed it to Eddie to at least take a peek into the canyon where the world began. They stopped at the first overlook and walked a short distance, over some rocks, to look into the canyon.

The moment she looked into the depths of the canyon Harmony felt her heart growing still. They went from look-over to look-over and at each one she felt the stillness growing in her. The pain was still there, but it wasn't swirling. The pain was cold inside her, like a crystal, but at least it wasn't swirling.

“Wow, Mom, I like this canyon,” Eddie said.

Iggy liked it too. He raced around, chasing small ground squirrels, barking loudly.

“He's going to be sad, if he doesn't catch one soon,” Eddie said. “I wish one would let him catch it. I don't think he would bite it very hard.”

Pat and Neddie were silenced by the majesty of the Canyon de Chelly. They had forgotten their quarrel. They held on to one another whenever they approached the edge of the canyon.

“Look, there's people down in it,” Pat said. “I see a corn patch, and some sheep.”

“I'm glad the world began here,” Eddie said, as they stood at the last look-over, gazing down at Spider Rock.

“Why are you glad?” Pat asked.

Eddie gave the question a moment's thought.

“Because it's good that the world began in a place where there's lots of ground squirrels,” he said.

Harmony didn't want to leave the Canyon de Chelly. She felt it was so beautiful and so powerful that it might be able to turn things inside her and sort of line her up with life again. It was as
if her spirit had lost its accustomed or assigned parking place; her spirit really wanted to be parked somewhere, and was looking for a place, but there were no places for a soul so dented and damaged. She just had to drift around and around the same old blocks, growing always more tired.

But the beautiful canyon, with the sun shining into its depths, made her feel rested. It was a place where she could park her spirit and let it rest.

“I wonder why they think the world began here,” Neddie wondered.

“Maybe because
they
began here,” Harmony said. “I guess if something has always been a part of your life and your people's lives you might think it was the place where the world began.”

“Can we go see those ruins?” Eddie asked, pointing down toward the White House ruins. “There might be treasure in them.”

“There might be a rattlesnake in them too,” Neddie said.

“Rattlesnakes are really shy,” Eddie mentioned. “They don't bite you unless you step on them.”

“I'd just as soon not chance it,” Neddie said. “This looks like snaky country, to me.”

“What if God is a rattlesnake?” Eddie asked. “Did you ever consider that?”

“Where do you get questions like that, Eddie?” Pat asked. “Why would God be a rattlesnake?”

Eddie stared solemnly at his aunt.

“Why wouldn't God be a rattlesnake?” he asked.

“Don't provoke me, buster,” Pat said. “I asked you first.”

“I asked you second,” Eddie said.

“Pat, can't you drop it?” Harmony said. “Eddie can have his own opinions about God, if he wants to.”

“He doesn't have his own opinions, though,” Pat said. “He has the Discovery Channel's opinions, and who knows what kind of atheists run the Discovery Channel.”

“Maybe Harmony's right,” Neddie said. “Maybe she and Eddie
should just go back to Las Vegas. They may not fit in too well in Tarwater.”

“I want to come back here sometime,” Harmony said. “I think I'd feel better if I could come here and just look for a day or two.”

“I want to put my stuffed animals in the trunk of the car,” Eddie said. “I don't want them in the trailer—the altitude might make them sick.”

“Eddie, the trunk of the car's the same altitude as the trailer,” Neddie pointed out.

“It would be cozier, though, in the trunk of the car,” Eddie said.

“That's too much trouble, get in,” Pat said.

Instead of getting in, Eddie and Iggy ran off, back down the trail toward the look-over for Spider Rock. Both ran as fast as they could. Iggy ran slightly faster and tried to jump on Eddie, causing Eddie to trip. Eddie fell and Iggy jumped on top of him. Then Eddie got up and resumed his run down the hill, Iggy behind him.

“Well, there goes Eddie and Iggy,” Neddie said. “It might have been easier to transfer the animals.”

“That kid's too brash,” Pat said. “I don't know how much longer I can put up with such a brash kid.”

“Pat, he's just honest,” Harmony said. “I hope he doesn't run down to a cliff and fall off.”

“Relax, he's over there making snowballs,” Neddie said.

In the pine forests near the look-over for Spider Rock there were a few patches of snow, under the trees, in the shade. Eddie and Iggy were frolicking in one little patch of snow. Eddie threw a snowball and Iggy chased it down. When he tried to bring it back it dissolved in his mouth, which startled Iggy and made Eddie laugh.

“I wish I was as carefree as that kid and that puppy,” Pat said.

Harmony opened the trailer and got Eddie's box of stuffed animals out. The box itself wouldn't fit in the trunk of Gary's car, but the stuffed animals fit. While she was fitting them in, Eddie and Iggy walked up. Eddie's cheeks were red from the cold.

“Mom, my hands are cold,” he said. “Thanks for moving my stuffed animals.”

Harmony picked Eddie up in her arms. Iggy jumped around her legs.

“You're a permissive parent, Harmony,” Pat said, with an edge in her voice, as they were driving back down the road to Chinle. It was on the tip of Harmony's tongue to ask her sisters if they would just let her out and go on to Oklahoma without her. She felt that if she could just sit and look at the Canyon de Chelly for a few days, her spirit might recover. All her life, despite what bad things might have happened, she had started her days with an optimistic feeling. Even if a boyfriend left, it would usually only take a few days for her to recover her optimistic feeling. After all, there might be a better boyfriend out there somewhere.

Pepper's death was different, though. It was final. There wasn't going to be a better daughter out there for her, ever. There wasn't going to be any daughter. Somehow life had carried her on, past the time of her daughter—a terrible fact, but a fact. She had always been the person who cheered other people up. She had even been able to cheer her own sisters up, when something bad happened in their lives. She had always been the optimistic one.

Now, it seemed to her, her sisters were growing impatient with her. They knew she had had a tragedy, but they were getting impatient anyway. They wanted her to be the cheerer-upper—neither Pat nor Neddie was cut out for that role. They probably knew they were expecting too much of her, that their need was unfair. Her sisters were realistic women; they knew they couldn't expect her to get over Pepper's death and resume her old role in only three days—yet that was what they
did
expect. They expected her to start being her old, optimistic self. That was why she felt like asking them if they could just leave her at the Canyon de Chelly for a few days. She could always take a bus to Oklahoma, once she felt a little better. That way she wouldn't have the strain of feeling that people were expecting things of her that she couldn't possibly deliver.

Harmony was trying to think of how to phrase her request—how to put it in a way that wouldn't upset Eddie, or either of her sisters—when an unexpected thing happened. She happened to look out the window, as they were going around a curve—she was hoping for a last glimpse of the Canyon de Chelly—and happened to see a U-Haul trailer going by. The trailer was passing them on the right, between them and the canyon. Neddie was driving. Pat was smoking and filing her nails. Neither of them saw the trailer going by. Harmony closed her eyes and opened them quickly, to assure herself that she was awake and that a U-Haul trailer was indeed passing them. She
was
awake, but the trailer wasn't exactly passing them, anymore. It was bouncing off at an angle, toward the beautiful canyon. It was going at a rapid rate, too.

At first Harmony wasn't totally sure that it was
their
U-Haul that had passed them. She knew that U-Haul trailers were normally attached to cars, unless they came unattached. They didn't have motors. They couldn't drive themselves. So the trailer bouncing off toward the canyon had to have come loose from
some
car. It could well be the trailer that had all her earthly possessions in it. She suspected that it
was
their trailer, but she was reluctant to look back and confirm her suspicions. If it was their trailer it might be better just to pretend she hadn't noticed its journey toward the canyon. After all, it might be a serious crime to allow a U-Haul trailer to bounce into the Canyon de Chelly. The canyon was a national park—Harmony knew that much. She didn't know what the legal penalties might be for allowing a U-Haul to bounce into a national park. Also, there was the question of what the U-Haul people would think about it.

“Mom, are you sad?” Eddie asked, patting her on the leg.

“Why do you ask, Eddie?” Harmony said.

“Because you don't look right,” Eddie said. “Are you getting sick to your stomach?”

“Eddie, I'm just happy we moved your stuffed animals—that's the thing I'm happiest about, right now,” Harmony said. Out of
the corner of her eye she saw the U-Haul cross a stretch of bare rock and disappear into the Canyon de Chelly.

“I hope it didn't hit any of the sheep,” she said, trying not to allow herself to think about the other things the trailer might hit—the people who were herding the sheep, for example.