Isabel was in shock and didn’t know what to do with the letter. Finally, Ana grabbed it, ripped it open, and read aloud.
Dear children,
I imagine you know by now the terrible fate of our country. The rebels won the war, and since their victory, they’ve relentlessly hunted down everyone they consider an enemy. They don’t care if you fought honorably or were part of some bloody cheka; the slightest accusation is enough to seal your fate. People accuse others just to exploit their property and belongings, while the accused, whether guilty or innocent, are dragged off to a military trial and often sentenced to the firing squad.
You three know that your father saved countless people in Madrid. He’s never been a criminal, doesn’t have a drop of murderer in his blood. Even so, when the Francoists entered Madrid, they took him prisoner. It was shocking to see how so many people who had previously cheered and celebrated the Republic now acted like dyed-in-the-wool fascists. The welcome for the dictator was unbelievable. Tens of thousands of Madrid’s citizens turned out to receive him. I went to the victory parade out of curiosity and to help myself accept the reality that we had lost. I didn’t go to make the new regime happy. But the inhabitants of Madrid screamed their praises for that bloody general as if he were a god.
A few days ago, the Francoists came for your father. They accused him of being a union man, of belonging to the socialist party—both of which are true—and of killing political prisoners in Madrid. They knew the last part was a lie, but the truth is worthless these days. As soon as they took him, I got dressed and ran to Salamanca to see an acquaintance of your father’s. Remember when your dad was serving as a guard in that rich neighborhood? He had saved a wealthy notary from a group of communists who were cleaning out the city’s jails by killing hundreds of prisoners. The man received me kindly and was very sad about what happened to your father, but he could make no promises and sent me back home. Then I decided to go see the new city governor. I was afraid they’d put me in jail, too, because it’s no secret in Madrid that I’m an artist who strongly defended the Republic. But heaven had something else planned. The new governor knew your father, who had saved his life as well. He promised to fetch your dad out of jail on the condition that we leave the country as soon as possible. He knew Francisco was a renowned union leader and had taken part in the attack on the Montaña Barracks.
I was waiting at the prison gate when they let him out the next morning. Those few days had changed him. He had bruises and cuts all over him, and he looked like a skeleton barely able to walk. The governor had given him a letter that assured us free passage throughout Spain and to exit the country, so we headed for France. After a week of challenges and setbacks, we finally made it to Figueras. They weren’t letting Spaniards cross into France anymore. Francoist authorities were arresting anyone who tried to cross illegally, and people were landing in prisons in Girona or Barcelona. We were allowed through because of the letter, but as soon as we crossed the border, the French took us to an internment camp in Rivesaltes. The conditions there were bad, but we managed to get beds together and tried to regain our strength. Your father has been very ill, which is why we still haven’t been able to leave this place or get in contact with you until now.
We don’t know what’s going to happen. The Nazis are invading everywhere in Europe, and we don’t think France will hold out for long.
Please, do not leave Mexico. Spain is not safe. Please wait until you hear from us again, very soon.
Ana, I’m sure you’re so big now. You’re such a bright, determined girl. You’ll accomplish great things when this world shakes off its lunacy and returns to normal. I love you with all my heart and miss you terribly.
Dear Isabel, you must be nearly a woman by this point. We would have so much in common now! We could be picking out pretty dresses that highlight your figure, but instead we’re separated. But we’ll be together again soon. Take care of your little sister and make sure she learns everything I taught you, like how women are worth just as much as men and that nobody has the right to our lives. I love you, my girl.
Dear Marco, the apple of my eye. You’re already a man, and I know you’ll be as good a man as your father: generous and brave, but aware that the most precious treasure we have is our family. Don’t forget it. Your sisters are two jewels that you must protect until we’re together again.
I love you three with all my heart.
Your father sends his love.
Francisco and Amparo
We were breathless after reading it. Mom’s news had opened a deep, painful wound in me, but it hit Ana the hardest. She ran off away from the school grounds. It took Isabel a second to react, but then she ran after her. I sat there staring at the pages, not reading any of the words, just examining my mother’s tiny print. That ink had come from a pen that she had held a few months before in France. The paper and the precious strokes from her hand were the only tangible indications that they were alive and that we’d be with them soon.
Isabel’s return jerked me out of my stupor. “I can’t find Ana,” she said, her face tight with pain.
“What?” I asked, still half dazed.
“I can’t find our sister anywhere. I’m worried about her. It’ll be dark soon.”
I looked around stupidly, at a loss. “Do you think she would’ve gone to see María Soledad?” I asked. Despite the age gap, they had become good friends. Almost every Sunday Ana went with me to Mass and stood guard while María Soledad and I talked.
“It’s pretty late, but she might have.” Isabel sounded doubtful.
“Stay here. You shouldn’t go out at night. There are too many rebels who would love to catch you and deport you to Spain. I’ll be back soon.”
I set out, a nervous wreck who felt like he might be sick. I’d heard of children going missing and how passive the police and other authorities had been about it. The government seemed eager to be rid of us as soon as possible.
I ran all over town looking for Ana but saw no sign of her in the empty streets. It was Christmas Eve, and most people were home with their families. It didn’t take me long to reach María Soledad’s house. I tried calling for her softly from below her balcony, but she didn’t hear me. The window was closed. I took a chance and climbed up the wall of the house, which was easy enough with the jutting rocks and thick flower vines. I pulled myself up onto the balcony outside María Soledad’s room and tapped at the window. She was shocked to see me and cracked the window open.
“Have you gone mad? God only knows what my father will do if he finds you here!”
“We can’t find Ana. Have you seen her? We’re desperate.”
“Someone knocked at the door about half an hour ago, but I didn’t see who it was. My dad did go out, which is odd, because we’re about to eat.”
“Where did he go?” I asked, scared.
She shook her head nervously. “I have no idea.”
I knew her father was capable of anything. He despised the Spaniard children and thought we were beasts that needed to be tamed.
“Help me think,” I said. “Where could he be? He might be the only one who knows where Ana is.”
“He’s friends with a Spaniard named Tomás who’s got a shop on the main street, where he sells vegetables and other goods.”
Before she even finished talking I jumped down from the balcony, nearly cracking my skull open. I had a terrible feeling about the situation. I raced down the empty street and swore I wouldn’t go back to the school until I’d found my missing sister—one of the jewels I’d vowed to protect.
Chapter 30
Kidnapped
Morelia
December 24, 1939
Time is relative. Sometimes it seems to stretch out through interminable hours, but then again it shrinks to make weeks and months fly by. As I ran toward the house of the Spanish shopkeeper, time stood still. It no longer existed. I halted in front and watched as María Soledad’s father came out of the store, where the light
s were still on, and headed up the street. I thought about jumping out and speaking to him, but then decided that would be a bad idea.
The light at the store window went out. I had expected to see a stairway at the back leading to the home above, but I saw a second door beside the front door of the store and assumed there was a second way to get from the house above to the store below. Therefore, I was pretty sure there would be another entrance at the back through the alley as well. I crossed the street with my hands in my pockets, as if I were just meandering about the empty town. I went down the alley and guessed which door might be the back door to the store. Then I looked up. There was a tall fence, which meant the gate didn’t lead directly to the house but to a small yard. I made sure no one was following me, took a running leap, and managed to get my hands to the top of the wall. I pulled myself up and jumped over. I was just standing up when I heard a growl behind me. A mastiff was staring at me, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. I’d faced plenty of street dogs in Madrid, and my dad had always told me the most important response was to stay calm.
“There, there, boy. I’m not going to hurt you,” I said in a singsong voice.
The dog started to bark. If he kept it up, the shopkeeper would soon come out and discover me, so I pulled out the small knife I always carried. Weapons were forbidden at school, but I had found it one day lying on the roadside and carried it around since then. The dog jumped toward me, but before his teeth closed around my neck or arm, I struck out with the knife. He let out a pained snarl as it ripped through him, then he fell to the ground, whimpering. It broke my heart to see him there in pain. I’d never imagined killing a living being. My dad was radical in that sense as well. He believed that all animals have a dignity to respect and that we should only kill them to cover our basic needs. That day I learned that doing away with the life of any creature is always unnatural.
I hid the dog’s body in the shadows and studied the patio carefully. There were empty wooden crates, a few sacks of potatoes, and some bags of garbage. At the back, two or three steps led up to a door set between two windows. I hid as I heard one of the windows open. Likely alarmed by the dog’s barking, the storekeeper poked his head out and called the dog. Then the window closed, and it was quiet again.
I went up to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Then I climbed up a pipe connected to the gutters on the roof and slowly inched my way to the height of the window and looked in. I saw a woman, a heavyset man, and two small children in a well-lit room. They were sitting around a table about to eat. I swung over to the other window, which was dark. I pushed, but it was also locked, so I got down and searched among the junk around the patio. A metal bar I found would serve to force the door open. There was a soft splintering sound, and it creaked lightly as it opened. I stepped slowly into the hallway, which smelled of coffee grounds and corn, and soon I was in the store. I saw nothing but food and jugs of wine.
Behind the counter were some steps. I was about to go down to the basement to look around when I heard a sound behind me and then a flash of light. The storekeeper had heard the noise and come over to the store with a shotgun in his hand. The light blinded me for a moment, and I instinctively lifted my hands to my eyes and waited for him to speak.
“What on earth are you doing? You’re one of those thieves from the school. Spain shipped our country its worst.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. I looked at him sternly, without fear, weighing my options.
“I’ve come looking for my sister. Where have you put her?”
The man was quiet, as if he didn’t know what I was talking about. “Your sister? What the devil have I got to do with your sister?” he demanded.
“She left school this afternoon, and I know someone brought her here not long ago. What are you planning on doing with her? I’ll call the police.”
The man burst out laughing, and I couldn’t stave off the chill that ran up my spine. “What makes you think you’ll get out of here alive? The police won’t ask any questions. You’re not the first one to break into my store looking to steal. You red scum are a plague. Fortunately, our caudillo in Spain has put an end to your kind!” He was furious, but I stayed completely still, not wanting to give him more reason to pull the trigger.
“I just want to take my sister back with me. I’ll take her away, and you’ll never hear from me or see her again.”
The man raised the shotgun, and I dove to the side. I heard the blast hit the sack of goods that had been directly in front of me. The shopkeeper shot again but missed as I scrambled away. I knew that kind of weapon only had two shots, so I got up and ran toward him. He went sprawling on his back with the force of my shove, and I jumped on top of him and pressed the gun against his neck.
“You monster! Now are you going to tell me where my little sister is?”
The man’s face grew red, and I let up on the pressure to let him talk—but instead he started screaming. I slammed the gun down hard again, and he struggled to get it away from his neck. He was strong and working hard to free himself, so I hit him hard in the head. His blood oozed from above one eye.
I heard footsteps behind me. I turned and saw a woman running at me with a knife in her hand, and I rolled away right before she could stab me. The man jumped up, then sat hard on my chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. “Well,” he growled, “I think it’s high time we finish this stupid boy off.”
“I don’t want any problems,” the woman said. “Sell him off to a landowner. He’d bring a good price.”
“No foreman could break him. This red plague has rebellion in their blood. The girls are a different story, though.”
The man studied me with his bulging eyes. I could see he was trying to overcome his desire to strangle me to death. Instead, he took the shotgun and smashed it into my face. Everything turned blurry. Then he hit me again, and I lost consciousness. As my mind started to shut down, I kept hearing my mother’s words: Take care of your sisters. Don’t let anything bad happen to them.
Chapter 31
Fleeing
Morelia
December 25, 1939
I woke up in a damp basement smelling of rotten fruit. It was very dark, and the pain in my head was all I was aware of for a while. Eventually I tried to study the room around me, but I could see next to nothing in the dark. I tried to move, but my body was one huge throbbing ache, and it felt like I had broken a rib. My hands were tied behind me. I tugged on them and heard something metallic. I felt it in the darkness and determined it was a pipe of some sort. I tried yanking harder, but to no avail. Then I tried and failed to loosen the rope.
“You can’t get out of it,” a voice from across the room said. It was a female, a girl.
“Who’s there?” I asked in anguish. I was terrified about what might have happened to my sister.
“Well, my name is Lisa, but that doesn’t matter much. A man locked me in a car yesterday, or maybe the day before . . . I’ve lost track of time. Then he brought me here. The Spaniard has come down a couple times to give me food and water, but that’s all I know.”
“Are you alone?”
“No, you’re here.”
“I mean if there’s anyone else. Did they bring another girl here?” There was an uncomfortable silence, but I could hear her breathing.
“There was a big hullabaloo yesterday. I heard some shots, and I was hoping the policeman would come, though he’s so corrupt that if the Spaniard gave him something to eat he’d probably just look the other way.”
“Last night was Christmas Eve, so people probably just thought it was fireworks.” I sighed.
“Then that means I’ve been here two days, at least. My mom sent me out to buy something for Christmas dinner. My parents are poor farmworkers. People like that Spaniard want kids like us that nobody will bother to look for if we suddenly disappear.”
“Did you hear a girl’s voice at any point?”
“Yes, I heard her. They brought her down and pu
t her where you are, but when they brought you, she disappeared.”
The words of this strange girl depressed me even more. Where would they have taken Ana? I’d heard rumors about child slavery, but I’d never imagined it could happen to us.
I started working desperately to free my hands. After what was surely a few hours, the ropes had started to loosen a bit. If I could get one hand out, I could free myself and get out of there. Every moment that passed was precious. If they took Ana to another city, it would be nearly impossible to find her.
“What’s your name?” the girl asked. “Are you one of the Spaniard kids?”
“Yes, I’m from the Spain–Mexico School,” I grunted.
“Welcome to Mexico,” she said sarcastically.
I wanted to curl up and die, but I kept working on the ropes until I got one hand free. Then I untied the other hand and crept cautiously through the rancid basement. I didn’t want to make a single noise that would alert the shopkeeper.
“You got out? Please, untie me!” she begged.
“If you keep quiet and calm, I’ll come back. I promise.”
“Just untie me now. I’ll get out on my own.”
I hesitated. If she weren’t extremely cautious, the girl might make a noise that alerted the shopkeeper. But I felt my way toward her and untied her hands.
“Now follow me and don’t do anything—anything—until I tell you,” I said severely.
We felt along the wall until we found the door. I turned the knob slowly, but it was locked.
“Did you think he was going to leave it open?” she said. “We can wait ’til he comes back. He should be back soon to bring food.”
“But I don’t have time to wait. I need to find my sister as soon as possible.”
“I’m afraid she’ll be a long way from here by now, on the estate of some great landowner—”
“Shut up,” I hissed. I knew the girl was right, but I still had to try. That scumbag shopkeeper would tell me what he’d done with Ana, and I’d scrutinize every square inch of the country if I had to.
Remember Me Page 17
