We sat down to wait until we heard noise, then went back to our spots and got ready. The man opened the door, and the light from the stairs lessened the darkness of the basement. The shopkeeper’s enormous body stood out against the backlit doorway. He approached and glared at me with disdain.
“I should let you die of hunger, but you’re worth more money than one might think.” He dropped a tray of food on the ground and started to feed me spoonfuls of a disgusting paste. Lisa seized the moment to run out of the open door.
“What the—” The man roared and threw the tray down to follow her. But he had hardly taken two steps before I jumped at his neck.
“You pig!” I yelled, knocking him facedown and sitting on his back. The man’s nose split and started gushing blood at the sudden impact. “Now you’re going to tell me where my sister is!” I screamed in desperation.
His wife appeared in the doorway and jumped toward me, but Lisa reached her first, bringing a cast-iron skillet down on her head and sending her unconscious to the ground.
“Penelope!” the man screamed.
“Where is my sister?” I demanded, smashing his face into the dirt floor with every syllable.
“Go to hell!” he managed to splutter. I throttled him against the floor over and over and then asked again, but he refused to speak.
“I swear I’ll burn this store down with all of you inside if you don’t tell me!” I was desperate for the truth.
The man was barely conscious, but my threats got through to him. “They took her to a convent.”
“What convent?” I demanded, furious.
“Poor Clares. It’s in Cuitzeo, up north by the lakes. The nuns need servants, and some of them later become novitiates. They won’t hurt her.” He was gasping for breath.
I got up, kicked him hard in the ribs, then left the basement. Lisa was stuffing things from the store into a handkerchief, then tied it into a knot and threw it over her back. “I think I’ve earned it,” she said with a bitter smile.
It was just before noon when we left the store, but the streets were nearly empty, as people had been up all night for Christmas Eve.
“Where’s your sister?” the girl asked me as we started to walk up the street.
“They sent her to a convent in Cuitzeo. I think it’s north of Morelia.”
“That’s a six or seven hours’ walk from here. You can get there tonight if you don’t get lost. If you walk me home, I’ll drop this off and take you there.”
Chapter 32
Unexpected Friends
Cuitzeo
December 25, 1939
Lisa’s house was very poor, though what shocked me most was that her parents didn’t appear too concerned about where she’d been the past few days. Mainly they were just happy to see what she’d brought them. We left the small village north of Morelia and started walking. Little hills crowned with low shrubs and plants surrounded us but did little to break up the monotonous landscape. Every now and then we saw a cultivated field and crossed paths with fieldworkers traveling in decrepit wagons. A few cars passed by, but none stopped despite our attempts to wave them down for a ride.
The whole time we walked, my brain bounced back and forth between anguish over Ana and worry for Isabel, whom I’d left alone at the school on Christmas Eve. I hadn’t been able to tell her I was going to Cuitzeo—there hadn’t been a moment to lose, plus I didn’t want to scare her with the news that Ana had been kidnapped.
“Will you tell me about Spain?” Lisa asked.
She looked younger than she had seemed when we were in the store and walking to her house. She had pulled her black hair back into a ponytail and had changed her clothes. The current outfit was as drab and threadbare as the one she’d worn when she was kidnapped, only cleaner.
“It’s like Mexico in some ways. At least, where we are now reminds me a lot of where my grandparents live. Madrid is way bigger than Morelia, but it might be smaller than Mexico City. It’s cold in the winter and snows a lot, but spring is beautiful, and in the summer it’s hot as hades.”
“I wish I could go to Madrid, though I’ve never gone farther than a day’s walk from Morelia. Where could someone like me go? Poor people have really small horizons. We’re not allowed to dream.”
“Well, that could always change. In my country we were fighting for the poor and the rich to be equal.”
I had piqued her curiosity. “So what happened?”
“Well”—I swallowed—“now the rich are the rulers. There was a war, and they won.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “See what I mean? The rich people always end up taking it all.”
I knew she was right, at least in part, but my father always said that resignation is an excuse for the weak. “We’ll keep fighting. Look at what happened in Russia. The revolution changed everything.” I was trying to cheer myself up with my own words.
“The revolution? My parents said there was one here, too, but I don’t think it changed much of anything. The rich people pay men with guns to protect them. They have all the land and the money . . . and if we don’t work for them, we die of hunger. People talk about how we have the right to vote, but I don’t much see the point. The world doesn’t change just because people put pieces of paper into a little box.” She had a tired half-smile on her face.
“I’m not talking about voting,” I said. “The only way to get rid of injustice is with weapons. The rich and powerful will never give up their wealth and power voluntarily. We’ve got to take heaven by storm.”
The sun sank sleepily behind the hills, and the shadows stretched longer and longer. Within an hour it would be fully dark.
“Do you think we’ll be there soon?”
“Maybe by sundown, but the hard part will be coming back. It’s not safe at night. There are ghosts, wild animals, and bandits that come out at night looking to hunt.”
I wasn’t afraid of the dark or of a lonely, dusty walk, but if I was coming back with my sister, I’d have to protect her somehow. I’d lost my knife when I stabbed the dog, and now I was unarmed.
“Maybe we should slip into the convent but not do anything ’til morning,” I suggested.
She shook her head. “Mmm, those nuns are really sharp. I don’t think we’d be able to get in without them noticing. It’s like a fortress, but there are places to spend the night in the town. Don’t worry, I brought some burritos for supper.”
It was dark by the time we got to the town, and the only light in the stone-paved streets came from the reflection of the moon off the white, run-down façades of the houses. We came to a plaza, and Lisa pointed out the convent. A tall wall surrounded it, and it really did look more like a fortress than a religious establishment.
We sat on a bench and ate in silence. It would be my first time to sleep on the streets, though my companion seemed used to the practice.
“Is it safe to stay here?” I asked, doubtful.
“Nope,” she answered with a smile I couldn’t understand yet.
In my country we had known plenty of dangers, and we had just endured a war that killed thousands of people—but in Mexico, the law of the jungle was the law of the land. Surviving one day at a time was enough adventure for Lisa. She didn’t need to think about what might happen in the future.
After our light supper, she looked for a spot to hide in the bushes, and we crawled inside.
“Does this bother you?” she asked, leaning her head on my arm.
“No,” I lied, jittery. I’d never had a girl that close to me before except for María Soledad.
“It’s a little chilly,” she said, snuggling up next to me.
“Good night,” I said, falling asleep within moments.
When I woke the next morning, Lisa was gone. I shook off the sleepiness and wriggled out of the bushes, seeing no sign of the girl. I was about to head to the convent by myself when she showed up with two sombreros in one hand and a few tamales in the other. We sat and ate on a bench, famished.
/> “I got the sombreros to fool the nuns. It’s easier going in the gate than climbing that high wall. We can pretend to be farmhands coming to tend the lawn and the garden. I heard there’s a group entering at nine, and I already talked the foreman into letting us work with them.”
I was taken aback and impressed. “That’s a really good plan.”
“You probably think I’m a stupid country girl, but I have a lot of ideas rolling around in here.” She knocked on her head. “I know how to read and write. I went to school ’til I was eleven.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Fourteen, I think. Truth is, we never celebrate birthdays.” She was short for her age, but I had no reason to doubt her.
“Why are you doing all this to help me?”
She shrugged and smiled at me again with her big white teeth. “I spend all day looking for something to bring home for my family to eat. At least for today I get to have a little fun with a Spaniard gentleman.”
We fell in with the crew of workers. Right at nine o’clock, the doors to the convent were opened, and we were handed tools. Half the workers went to the garden and the other half to the patios and grounds.
“I think they’re cloistered,” Lisa said.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“They never leave the convent or talk to anybody from the outside. If they see us, they’ll surely hide. And they won’t talk to us.”
I was dumbstruck. “Well then how are we going to find my sister?”
“I’ll look for her,” Lisa said, pulling off her hat and a poncho she’d used to hide her clothes. “They won’t be suspicious of a girl.”
I stayed in one of the courtyards pulling weeds, the sombrero covering up my blond hair. After so long in Mexico, my skin had tanned and my hands were tough from all the hours in the workshop. None of the other workers ever spoke to me or even seemed to take much notice of me.
After an hour, I was beyond nervous. Lisa surely should’ve been back by then. I propped my sickle up against a wall and slipped inside the main building. I looked in several rooms but didn’t see a soul. Finally, I found what appeared to be the kitchen. Some young women were startled at the sight of me and ran out. I had to hurry before they sounded the alarm.
I ran through more rooms until I came to a closed door. I stepped back a bit and threw my shoulder into it. I succeeded in knocking it loose and went through to a dim room. Beyond it, I followed a hallway until I came to a stairway going down. I crept down by feel and found myself before another door. This one was unlocked, so I turned the knob and walked in, discovering two nuns holding Lisa down.
“What are you doing?” I cried, startling the nuns. One turned toward me, and I saw she was holding a whip of some sort. She struck out at me, but I caught her hand and jerked the whip away. The other nun stood paralyzed.
“Let her go!” I demanded. The nun immediately let Lisa go, and she ran to me, screaming.
“Where’s the girl they brought yesterday?” I asked, whip still raised. They pointed toward a room behind me. I opened the door and found Ana, curled up and weeping in a corner.
I grabbed her hand and we ran, Lisa right behind us. We wound our way to the convent door and burst through, not slowing our pace until we were as far away as our burning legs would take us.
We started walking back to Morelia right away, fear still coursing through our blood. We made it two hours before Ana collapsed, unable to continue. We sat on the side of the road to rest for a bit. Near us, a car stopped—clean and fancy, despite how dusty the road was. A woman in a suit stepped out and stood in front of us. She spoke in a strange accent, and we stared at her, hypnotized.
“You children look lost. Can I help you?”
I was hesitant. It was a bad idea to trust strangers in Mexico. Noncommittally, I said, “We’re headed to Morelia.”
A man got down from the car as well. We saw his shiny shoes first and then studied the rest of him. His cold eyes and round face were off-putting.
“Mr. Indalecio,” the woman said, “I believe these are some of the Spaniards.”
“Get them in the car,” he answered.
We backed away. The man, who’d already returned to his seat in the back of the car, rolled down the window and said, “I’m Indalecio Prieto, the representative of the Spanish Republic in exile in Mexico. Please be so kind as to get into the car. I don’t want to waste another second in this wasteland.”
Chapter 33
Journey to the Capital
Morelia
August 1, 1940
We stayed in Morelia another six months waiting for news from our parents, but to no avail. No more letters came. After the visit from the Republic’s representative, things calmed down a little. Most students enjoyed the day of the visit. Indalecio Prieto and a few other adults handed out chocolates, gave a speech that was supposed to inspire and encourage us, and then drove back to Mexico City. Refugees from Spain were arriving in Mexico in droves, so we kept hoping to see our parents. We knew France had succumbed to the Nazi invasion and that a puppet government was in place in the south while the German army occupied the rest of the country. We knew our parents had been at an internment camp in southern France. But that’s all we knew.
President Cárdenas’s term would end in November of that year, and we didn’t know if his successor would sign an agreement of some sort with Franco, Spain’s dictator.
The shopkeeper had left Morelia, perhaps afraid we would alert the authorities to his kidnapping business and to the fact that he’d abducted Ana. María Soledad’s father, too, had packed the family up and moved back to Guadalajara. I had only just managed to see her off from afar, her big, black eyes silently telling me goodbye for the last time.
Lisa came to see us sometimes, and Ana and Isabel befriended her too. Ana hadn’t wanted to tell us anything about what happened when she was kidnapped, and we didn’t pry. Both of my sisters were increasingly anxious the longer we went without news from our parents.
That afternoon in August, we were sitting underneath a tree with Lisa watching cars go by. It was very hot, and I’d bought us some Coke to take the heat off a bit.
I cleared my throat and spoke. “I heard that in Mexico City the exiles have started an organization called the Committee for Aid to Spanish Republicans. Maybe they could help us find our parents. If Mom and Dad make it out of France, they’ll go to the capital first.”
Ana looked at me with hope in her eyes. She was ten now but remained terrified of walking around by herself after what had happened. The Spain–Mexico School only offered primary education, but the curriculum was lax, and classes tended to stretch out, which meant I had only recently finished primary school. I wouldn’t be allowed to stay there much longer. Yet I wasn’t about to leave my sisters. Isabel would finish primary school the next year, and I was afraid they’d divide us up, effectively diluting our family and ruining any chance we ever had of returning to Spain.
Isabel was doubtful, though. “If the Nazis have control of France, it won’t be easy for Mom and Dad to get out.” She felt like the school, as bad as it was, was the only safeguard we had.
“I know you’re afraid to venture out, but we need to leave all this behind us. Mom and Dad need us, so we need to try to get a little closer to them. Our parents have always taken care of us, and now it’s our turn to take care of them. This exiles organization can help us,” I said firmly, letting it be known that I’d already made up my mind that we were going to the capital.
“How are we going to pay for the train tickets? We don’t have any money,” Isabel countered.
“I’ll speak to the director. I don’t think he’ll have any problem with my ticket, but I need him to pay for you two.”
“What are we going to do all alone in a big city?” Ana asked.
“A few weeks ago I wrote the organization, and they’ve found a spot for us in one of the shelters. There are a few homes in the capital for the Spaniard kids
. It’s nothing fancy, just food and a weekly stipend for our expenses. There we can start the process of locating our parents in France and trying to bring them back to Spain.”
Lisa, who had been quiet up to that point, asked, “Can I go with you? Marco, one time you said horizons can change, even for the poor. Here in Morelia, I’ve got nothing. Maybe I’ll find something better there.”
I didn’t answer her right away. She couldn’t stay in the shelter with us because it was only for Spaniards, and the big city might be dangerous for an outsider. After studying her face a moment longer, I said, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. Plus, how will you pay for your ticket?”
“I’ve got a little stash. I won’t slow you down or be a bother. Once we get there, I’ll find work and somewhere to stay. I’m not afraid of working for my food. It’s what I’ve done all my life.”
“What about your parents?” Isabel asked.
“I swear they won’t complain about one less mouth to feed. Plus, if I find work soon, I can start sending them money. My brothers and sisters—turns out they have to eat every day.”
The next day, I went to talk to the director. Our relationship had gotten better as time passed, and we had come to a degree of mutual respect for each other. Fewer students remained at the school, and Reyes Pérez knew that when the new government came into office, the school would probably get a new director.
He smiled when I stepped into his office. He had the papers ready for my transfer, but he was not yet aware of my plan to bring my sisters as well. I explained the situation, and he understood our desire to not be separated.
“Well, in life, there are seasons of beginnings and seasons of endings,” he said. “This hasn’t been easy, but nothing that’s really worth it is. The hardest school of all is life itself. Here we’ve instilled in our students discipline and an appreciation for rules and work. They don’t seem like very enjoyable lessons at first, but to educate men and women, first we must educate boys and girls. We’ve developed in you all an internal strength—a resilience that will help you overcome any number of problems and difficulties. I do hope you find your parents. If they’ve managed to escape the inferno Europe has become, they’re some of the lucky few. I just hope the blows of that terrible war don’t reach the Americas.”
Remember Me Page 18
