The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster

by Mary Downing Hahn

  "Did you see the other man?"

  She frowned. "What other man? He was all by himself."

  "No," I said, "Another man came and sat down with him. He was older, heavier. Meaner."

  "Meaner?" Amy stared at me.

  I nodded. "His eyes were scary," I said. "And they were both staring at us, all of us. Not just you."

  Amy sighed. "Do you know what's wrong with you, Felix? You have too much imagination. At least that's what my father thinks."

  I shook my head. "Mom says the same thing, but I didn't imagine that man and I didn't imagine the way he was looking at us. He scared me."

  "Listen, Felix," Amy said. "I want to go to sleep, okay? I don't want to hear about mean men with scary eyes or anything else. Can't you just lie still like a normal person and be quiet?"

  Her voice was rising again, and Phillip made a funny snuffling sound right in the middle of a snore. Not wanting him to wake up, I lay down on my back and told myself I would not move or speak till morning. I would not think of the man again, I would not worry about him, I would lie still like a normal person and not bother anyone.

  Pretty soon, Amy fell asleep. Lying so close, I could hear her breathing. Although she didn't snuffle and snort like Phillip, I coudn't forget she was there, right beside me.

  As quietly as possible I rolled over a couple of times, trying to find a comfortable position, but I couldn't stop thinking. My brain just wouldn't turn off. When I banished the man from my thoughts, Grace popped up and took his place. I saw her face again, her gold earrings, her long red hair. If only I could grow up to be like her, free and beautiful, a citizen of the world.

  Now that it was too late, I was sorry I had lied to her. It didn't help to remind myself I'd probably never see her again. I just couldn't stop feeling bad about all the crazy ideas I'd given her. No wonder Amy didn't like me. I really was a dope sometimes.

  6

  The next morning, after a lot of misunderstandings and confusion about breakfast, checking out, and loading the car, we finally got under way around nine o'clock. Since none of us seemed improved by our night's sleep or our morning activities, Don put "La Bamba" in the tape deck, turned it up as loud as he could, and drove out of Toledo.

  While he and Mom sang along with the music, I pressed my face against the window and watched the tile roofs, the cathedral, and the Alcázar gradually shrink and disappear into the distance like a dream of a city.

  "Someday I'll come back," I thought. "I'll drink café con leche in the Plaza de Zocodover and watch the lights come on in the city. I'll have my own little house with a balcony and a cat to keep me company. And I'll wear a flower in my hair. A citizen of the world, that's what I'll be."

  Leaning back in my seat, I touched my earrings and tried to picture my grown-up self, but it was Grace's face I saw, not mine. As the scenery flashed by, brown fields, bulls, olive groves, little towns with balconied apartment houses, I wondered where she was and if I would ever see her again.

  ***

  The castle in Segovia more than lived up to Grace's description. It was so beautiful it hardly seemed to belong in the real world. Like a palace in fairyland, its walls glowed against a cloudless blue sky. On the towers high overhead, the yellow and red Spanish flag fluttered in the breeze.

  After going through the usual confusion of buying tickets, aggravated by Phillip's misguided attempts to translate, we went inside. While Mom read us passages from her guidebook describing the Moorish influence on the castle's architecture, we wandered from room to room until we found a spiral staircase leading to the highest tower. The steps were steep and narrow. People were pushing their way down as we climbed up, and I had to fight to reach the top without being shoved down the stairs. When I finally stepped out into the sunlight, though, the view was worth every inch of the climb.

  Wandering away from the others, I leaned over the parapet and gazed at the distant mountains. Far below me, a hawk floated on the breeze, its wings spread like fingertips.

  As I watched the hawk dip and glide, I heard Phillip say, "That's her?"

  Turning around, I saw him and Amy staring at someone standing beside Mom on the opposite side of the tower.

  Although the woman's back was to me, her red hair was unmistakable.

  "What's Grace doing talking to your mother?" Amy asked me.

  "How should I know?" Anxiously I shoved through the crowd of tourists separating me from Mom and Grace. A woman frowned at me when I stepped on her toe, but I was too worried to apologize. I had to reach Mom before anything was said about horses, swimming pools, or Jacuzzis.

  Pushing my hair behind my ears to show off my hoops, I slid in between Mom and Grace.

  "You're right," Mom was saying to Grace. "I've never seen such a beautiful view."

  Don smiled and nodded, but he was too busy taking pictures to talk.

  Mom was the first to notice me. "This nice woman has been telling me about the castle, Felix, and the things you can see from here," she said. "For instance, those little specks on the horizon way over there are windmills."

  As Mom pointed toward the windmills, Grace threw her arms around me. "Why, it is my friend Felix from Toledo," she exclaimed. "How nice a surprise to see you again! And wearing such beautiful earrings. You look like a gitana, a gypsy."

  "Do you know Felix?" Mom asked Grace, obviously surprised.

  "Of course," I said, my mind racing with images of myself as a gypsy, dancing barefoot around a campfire, my long skirt swirling gracefully, or wearing a bright scarf and reading people's fortunes in crystal balls.

  "She's the person who brought Amy and me back to the Alcázar yesterday when we were lost," I said aloud, "the one I was trying to tell you about. Don't you remember?"

  "Oh, yes," Mom said and began thanking Grace.

  "De nada, de nada," Grace said. "It was nothing. No trouble."

  While Mom and Grace talked, I leaned against the parapet and stared at the distant windmills. As happy as I was to see Grace, I was puzzled. I'd told her we were going to Segovia. Why hadn't she said she was coming here, too? I wanted to ask her, but Mom was monopolizing the conversation.

  "Well, Felix," Mom said, finally remembering me. "I think we've seen enough of the castle. I'd like to go into Segovia and see the old Roman aqueduct."

  She smiled at Grace. "Thanks again for bringing Felix and Amy back safely. We were so worried about them."

  "It was my pleasure," Grace said. "This child, your daughter, was a delight for me to meet. You are lucky to have her."

  Mom hugged me. "Felix is very entertaining," she said. "I hope she didn't talk your ear off."

  "Everything she said was of interest," Grace assured Mom, and I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't repeat any of our conversation. "I found her most congenial, polite, and friendly," she added, sparing Mom the details.

  Mom smiled and nodded, but I thought she looked a little surprised to hear Grace praising me. Usually Amy was the one singled out for compliments, not me.

  "Let's go, kids," Don said, summoning Amy and Phillip who were keeping their distance from Grace.

  "Remember the view from the river," Grace told Mom. "You must not miss it. You look up and there is the castle high above the trees on its rock, a place of magic, not of the real world but of the air."

  Then Grace was gone, vanishing into the crowd as quickly as if she herself were of the air—a woman of magic unlike the tourists milling around, posing for pictures, getting in between Grace and me.

  "Where did she go?" I stared at Mom. "I wanted to invite her to have dinner with us."

  Mom looked around, as puzzled as I was, but there was no sign of her, not even on the crowded stairs.

  ***

  Unhappy because I'd lost Grace again, I followed Mom out of the castle. Ahead of us, Amy was walking with Don, clinging to his hand while Phillip ran toward a souvenir stand. Amy's long hair swirled out as a gust of warm wind caught it, and Mom gave me a little squeeze.

 
"Are you and Amy getting along any better?" she asked.

  I shook my head. "She hates me."

  "Oh, Felix," Mom sighed. "I know it's not all your fault, but I don't think either of you has made any effort to like the other. Couldn't you try a little harder?"

  "She's stuck up," I said, "and conceited."

  Mom shook her head. "She's just as lonely for her mother as you are for your father. Can't you see that? She thinks I'm coming between her and Don, and you think Don's coming between you and me. But all Don and I want is to be parents to all three of you."

  Mom looked into my eyes, but I lowered my head, refusing to meet her gaze.

  "We want to be a family," Mom tried again.

  I nodded, but I thought it would take a lot to make us into a family. It certainly wasn't going to happen overnight.

  7

  After we got into the car, Don drove down a winding road to the river. When we reached the place Grace had described, he parked in a deserted dirt lot, and we all piled out of the car to take pictures. Just as Grace had promised, the castle towered high above us like the figurehead of a ship carved from rock. In the afternoon sunlight, the turrets shone as if they were made of gold, and the whole building looked as if it might vanish in a puff of smoke.

  As I pointed my camera upward, I heard Amy mutter, "Oh, no, not her again."

  Spinning around, my picture forgotten, I saw a dusty old Citroen pull into the lot and park next to our little red car. Her long hair flying, Grace hurried toward us.

  "Oh, Felix," Mom said. "Look who's here."

  Grace smiled at us. "Yes, it is me again, a bad nickel you cannot lose," she said. "I have thought more of the windmills and how I would like to show them to you."

  "Real windmills," Mom added. "Like the ones in Don Quixote."

  Grace nodded enthusiastically. "And old castle ruins too. There is so much to see for those who venture from the main roads."

  Mom looked at Don before answering Grace. "It's getting late," she said reluctantly, "and we still have to line up a hotel for tonight. I don't think we can see any more sights today."

  "Will you be here tomorrow?" Don asked.

  Grace sighed and shook her head. "It is impossible. I can take you this one time only."

  Mom hesitated, waiting for Don's opinion, and Grace added, "It is too bad, for these are very special. Not the windmills everyone knows. There will be no tourists getting in the way, ruining things, just us."

  "Can we go, Mom?" I tugged at her hand, trying to get her attention. "Please?"

  While I begged, Grace tapped a long, scarlet fingernail against her front teeth and frowned as if she were thinking hard. Then she smiled. "I could take the children," she offered, "while you go to the hotel and make your reservation. Then, tomorrow, they could show you the way."

  "Oh, no," Mom said, "you must have other things to do. We couldn't let you inconvenience yourself like that."

  Grace tossed her hair and shrugged. "No trouble, none at all. I would love to show the children the true España."

  Suddenly Grace's arm hooked around me and drew me to her side. Considering how thin she was, she was surprisingly strong.

  "You would like to see my Spain, Felix?" Grace's face was close to mine, and I could see the pores in her skin, her freckles, and the sun lines around her eyes.

  I nodded my head so hard I could feel my big gold earrings swing. More than anything in the world I wanted to see Grace's Spain, to ride in her little car, to talk to her some more. This time, I wouldn't tell her any lies. Just the truth.

  "Well, then, you shall." Grace smiled at me as if everything were settled. "I can bring them back to this place at seven-thirty," she said to Mom and Don. "That will give you plenty of time to make the reservation, and perhaps have a glass of wine in a romantic place, just the two of you. Segovia is a city for lovers, you know. A place of beautiful sunsets and ancient things. It would be a shame to miss this chance."

  While Mom and Don hesitated, Phillip said, "Let Felix go see the dumb old windmills, if she wants to. I'd rather find a McDonald's."

  Grace laughed and drew him close with her other arm. "I know where one is, señor. On the way back, we will stop there and you can eat all the burgers you want."

  "All right!" For the first time since we'd left Maryland, Phillip looked truly happy.

  "Well, I'm not going!" Amy folded her arms tightly across her chest and scowled at Phillip as if he'd just broken a promise. "We can see plenty of windmills tomorrow in Ávila."

  But Mom and Don weren't listening to her. This was their honeymoon, and here was Grace offering them a few hours of privacy. Tempted as they were, I had a feeling from the glance they exchanged that they were about to say no. After all, they didn't know Grace very well. How did they know they could trust her?

  "Please, Mom," I said. "Grace will take good care of us. Didn't she bring us back safe and sound yesterday?"

  Mom looked at Don. Slowly her frown melted into a smile. As Don hugged her, she said to Grace, "If you're sure it's no trouble, I think the children would really enjoy themselves."

  "These three trouble?" Grace tightened her grip on Phillip and me and smiled at Amy. "They are splendid children, magnificent children. I will take care of them as if they were my own."

  "You'll behave, won't you, Felix?" Mom asked. "You'll stay with Grace and do what she says?"

  "And, you," Don said to Phillip. "No climbing on walls, no running off, no silly stunts."

  As Phillip and I promised to be good, I saw Amy slip her hand into Don's. "I don't feel good," she said. "Can't I go with you to the hotel? I won't bother you, I promise. I'll go to my room and lie down. You won't even know I'm there."

  Don sighed. "Oh, Amy," he said. "Don't spoil things. Go with Felix and Phillip. I'm counting on you to keep an eye on your brother."

  With great reluctance, Amy let go of Don's hand and trudged toward Grace's car, pausing every few steps to look back at Don. "I don't want to go," she pleaded.

  Ignoring her unhappiness, Don smiled and waved at Amy. "We'll see you soon, sweetie," he called, hugging Mom with his other arm. "Have fun."

  Phillip climbed into the back seat and I chose the front, the place of honor beside my friend, the citizen of the world.

  As Amy hesitated, Grace revved the Citroen's engine. "Come, Amy," she said, "we must get there before the sun sets or we will have driven in vain to see the windmills."

  "Who cares?" Amy said as she got in next to her brother and slammed the door.

  Although I was happy to be with Grace, I looked out the window at Mom before we left. She smiled and waved and I waved back. But, even before we were out of sight, she turned to kiss Don.

  "At least we won't have to watch that stuff for a while," Phillip said as Grace headed the car away from Segovia.

  Amy said nothing, but I silently agreed with Phillip—surely for the first time.

  8

  As Grace's little car bounced along the road, leaving Mom farther and farther behind, I told myself I had a new friend now, someone who thought I was "magnificent and splendid." She was taking me to see her Spain, the true Spain. Why should I care what Mom and Don were doing? At last I was with someone who appreciated me.

  Focusing my attention on Grace, I noticed she was wearing a different tee-shirt today, even more faded than the one she'd worn yesterday, but her jeans were the same. I recognized the hole in the right knee. She had a new flower in her hair, a pale pink one with a red center. Staring intently through the mud-spattered windshield, she looked as beautiful and mysterious as ever.

  "I was glad to see you again," I told her. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming to Segovia too?"

  Grace shrugged. "It was sudden my coming, a thing of impulse. Yesterday I myself did not know."

  I nodded, thinking that made sense. A free spirit had no schedule, no place to go every day like clockwork. To Grace, life must be one long vacation.

  "Did you think you'd see me today?" I
asked.

  Grace glanced at me. "Fate is strange," she said. "I told myself perhaps you would be at the castle, perhaps not. I could not be sure."

  "But you were happy I was there, right?"

  "Of course," Grace agreed, but she seemed tense, worried. Without saying more, she gripped the steering wheel and leaned forward, watching the traffic and the road. Her mood had changed after we'd gotten into the car. She wasn't laughing or smiling or even talking.

  As the silence lengthened, I felt my stomach tighten. Had I offended Grace? Or, worse yet, had Mom said something to make her think we weren't Dallas-style millionaires after all? Maybe she knew what a liar I was and hated me for it.

  "Guess what?" I asked, trying to win Grace's approval again. "When I grow up, I'm going to be a citizen of the world just like you. I'll go wherever I want and see everything. Maybe we'll run into each other at the pyramids or someplace. That is, if fate allows it."

  Grace looked at me and frowned. "I think you will not be like me, Felix."

  I waited for her to say more, but, without another word, she turned off the highway on to a narrow dirt road leading toward the hills. "The windmills, they are this way," she said as we bounced over the ruts.

  "What do you mean I won't be like you?" I said, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. Did Grace think I was just an ordinary kid, an Amy whose one ambition was to be a cheerleader? "I'm going to see the whole world," I told her. "Maybe I'll ride a bike or a motorcycle or maybe I'll hitchhike. I might even get a car just like this one."

  When she heard this, Amy sighed so loudly that Grace glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Then she shook her head again. "My life is not what you imagine," she said to me. "It is not all romance and mystery and adventure, Felix."

  "I bet it's a lot more exciting than staying in the same old place like my mother. This is the first time she's ever gone anywhere except Ocean City, Maryland. I don't want to end up like her."

  Grace frowned at me. "Your mother is very fortunate. She has a good man to love her, a big house, pretty clothes, money for this trip. She has never known poverty or war. Her life is safe, sheltered, protected. And so is yours. Many children are not so lucky, Felix."