Laszlo Hajdu
A spiritual aura hovers over the Indian canyons of Palm Springs and provides an enchanting experience for the tourists hiking the trails along the creeks of this oasis in a rocky desert.
On a Christmas morning a lonely man inhales the wintry breath of the spirit of Native Americans who lived in this sacred area in the past. Paul wants to escape the cruel hand of reality that stole his beloved wife. For a few minutes, as the sun hides in a cloudy sky, the abandoned husband’s soul soars through unknown dimensions, receiving the soothing touch of God. On the way back from the canyons to his hotel, Paul’s car hits a motorcycle. Leslie, a nurse and poet, the driver of the crushed bike, gets a ride from Paul, and, they become friends.
Two weeks later Paul’s son Marco breaks an arm and leg skiing in Colorado. Leslie becomes his home-care nurse and soon falls in love with his patient. This novel examines a long-married couple’s reconciliation and their journey toward accepting their child’s gay relationship.
Laszlo Hajdu was born in Hungary in 1963. He fled to Austria from Communist oppression when he was twenty-four years old. After living in Vienna for two years, the author immigrated to the United States. The Spirit of Palm Springs is his second novel.
The San Jacinto Mountains protect Palm Springs from the rain clouds drifting slowly in the air above the Pacific Ocean towards the western part of the United States. The burning summers are dry and the mild winters are seldom wet in the city of hot wells. Yet, if you want to build a snowman with your children or are just in the mood for a hike on the trails of the highland to feel the white crunching present from Zeus under your feet, you don’t have to go too far. You may ride a tram from the valley at the edge of the city, and, within twenty minutes, you’ll find yourself closer to the mountain peaks and the spirits of the people who once worshipped the gods of nature in this part America.
Far back in the past only Native Americans lived on this land. They spent the colder months at the hot springs, where they found protection from the chilly winds. As the weather warmed up, they moved to the canyons where the melting snow from the hilltops swelled the creeks. The crystal clear water turned a narrow strip of the rocky desert into an oasis which was inhabited with life. Birds made their nests in the crowns of the palm trees and their songs soared over the surroundings. The splashing voice of the brook enticed the thirsty animals from a great distance. Some of them found their last day on the way to the rivulet. They became the prey of lurking coyotes, howling with bloody pleasure on their faces after they caught their victims. Why do we hate those snarling predators and feel sorry for the bleeding rabbits and other quarries?
We know very well they are only part of the food chain and they are just following the rules of nature, day after day. Yet our instincts, imprinted with the terror of our ancestors who were the puppets of the elements and the animals from the beginning of humankind’s history, tell us, in spite of being members of the human race blessed with a thinking brain, we are not always safe. So, when we hear those murderous laughs of coyotes in the darkling night, our souls fill with fear and our hearts beat fast. Let’s forget about those frightful times and enjoy the rising sun’s light.
In the early morning only one man was walking along the creek; he was hiking uphill on the trail of the oasis. As the hiker reached to the top of the rocky hill he stopped to rest a little bit and turned around to look at the valley. The tired man was mesmerized by the sight before his eyes. He started to croon in a language unknown to him. A sad song broke out of his throat as the spirits of the place took over his soul.
After a while the lonely hiker sat down on a large stone; he was quiet. He felt relieved of the pain that rent his heart for many days and nights, since his wife left him for the love of another man. It was Christmas Day, and Paul’s fifty-eighth birthday. He was married to his wife almost forty years and he was still in love with her despite her unfaithfulness. The night before Paul called his son from the hotel to wish him happy holidays. He found out from Marco that Nina, his wife, was in Florida with her boyfriend. The thought that she was walking on the sandy beach and lying between soft sheets with another man made him very jealous. His heart ached with pain; he didn’t understand why all these tormenting events happened. Why did she leave him? Didn’t she feel how much he loved her? The questions gnawed Paul’s mind. As he was searching for answers his broken soul blamed himself for the long working days he spent at his company building a computer empire. Many times he just went home to sleep. Even then, as he got into bed next to his dozing wife, he kissed her brow and cuddled her because Paul wanted to sense Nina’s warmth, which calmed him down and filled up his tired mind and body with energy.
Paul thought his spouse knew how much he loved her and that he would do anything to make her happy. The busy husband never noticed something was wrong until it was too late. He is realizing there were signs of the trouble approaching on the horizon: their sex life wasn’t like it used to be; the lack of time to spend together poisoned their relationship. Paul had thought everything was normal. At their age lovemaking can’t be so great anymore and the lack of time spent with his wife wasn’t out of order, he was just taking care of the business, so he found excuses.
Paul was convinced everything was all right until the very end when the only thing waiting for him in his house was the echoing sadness of an empty bed. Unfortunately, he was walking in the dark blindly as Nina slowly became estranged from him. She felt Paul didn’t care about her anymore and the middle-aged woman fell easily into the trap of her younger tennis teacher. Nina wanted to be loved and she thought that was what she got. She was wrong, Danny didn’t yearned after her soul, not even her body; he wanted to enjoy her money. The hunk of the tennis court was a good enough actor to fool her.
Paul was thinking about his broken life as the distant rain-soaked clouds occupied the sky. He saw the mountains were overcast with dark gray and soon made his way back to his car to be in a safe dry place. But that mournful rainy veil covered only the peaks and the other invisible side of the hills. It wasn’t strong enough to break through the chain of mountains, thus, the rocky desert couldn’t enjoy the downpour. Before he got into his car, Paul took a deep breath and looked over the landscape for the last time. He wanted to absorb the atmosphere of the place, to take the feelings with him that he found there and heal his wounded heart. As the deserted husband cast his eyes up to the broken sky he could see a sign: a colorful rainbow beamed at him and his face shone with happiness as the spirit of Palm Springs caressed his head.
As Paul drove back to the hotel his emotional problems lifted from his shoulders; all that remained in his heart was his faith and love for his beloved wife. He believed they were destined for each other; nothing and nobody can change that fact. He knew deep in his heart he’d win Nina back because the power of his feelings towards her would surmount every obstacle; it would be just a matter of time. Paul felt calm and peaceful as the mild wind caressed his face through the open window; he was smiling as he glanced at a woman who was sitting in a cross-legged position and meditating on the roof of her old station wagon on the side of the road. Her long hair was floating in the air as the wind brushed it with gentle hands. Suddenly, a huge bang shook Paul’s car.
“Oh, my God! What have I done?” screamed Paul and he pressed the brake pedal with all of his strength. The car stopped and Paul jumped out; he ran to the motorcycle that lay in the ditch with one of its wheels still turning. The owner of the bike was getting up from the ground about thirty feet away. Paul noticed him and hurried to help.
