A Thunderous Whisper (23 page)

I jerked back to look at him. “No, you can’t.”

A single tear dropped onto Papá’s cheek. “Yes, I have to. You’ll go to England with some other Basque children. The navy is already clearing mines and—”

“England? But I don’t know anyone there. Who will I live with? How—”

“It’s being taken care of. There’ll be many children with you.… It’ll be like one of the adventure stories you used to tell me.”

“But—” The jeep honked again.

Papá looked back and nodded. He pulled me close and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. “
Preciosa
, I’ve already spoken to the Garzas and given them all the details. They’ll explain it to you. The important thing is that you’ll be safe. Who knows, maybe some of your friends will go too. But you’ll be away from this war. It’s for the best. Really. It is.” He started to back away.

Though I wasn’t sure if he was saying this to reassure me or himself, one of his last words got stuck in my brain.
Friends
.

“Papá, wait!” I grabbed his hand while I searched the darkness that had now surrounded us. “Mathias! Where are you?”

“Right here.” He stepped in front of the jeep’s headlights.

“Papá, this is my friend Mathias. He helped keep me safe during the bombing.”

“We kept each other safe,” he corrected. “Nice to meet you, Señor Largazabalaga.” He shook hands with Papá.

“Thank you for helping my daughter. I’m forever in your debt.” Papá glanced at the
makila
. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, this isn’t from the bombing.” Mathias tapped his leg with the
makila
.

“Papá, how about Mathias? Can you arrange for him to go to England?” My voice betrayed my feelings. “Please.”

“I’m not sure.” Papá cocked his head to the side and looked at Mathias. “It would have to be his parents’ decision. Padre Iñaki has a list at the church where—”

“His parents died in the bombing,” I interrupted.

“Oh, I’m sorry. In that case, I … well, you …” Papá scratched his head, a clear sign that he was thinking.

“
Gracias
, Señor Largazabalaga, but I’ll be leaving for Germany soon.”

Papá’s eyes grew larger.
“¿Alemania?”
he said in a loud voice, then quickly glanced back at the soldiers. “Germany?” he whispered.

I was thankful that the jeep’s engine had drowned out his voice.

“It’s not what you think,” I blurted out, although I had no real idea what Papá thought. “His family is there.… They’re Jewish. And things have been getting really bad for them. They—”

Papá raised his hand as if he already knew the story. “I know what’s been happening over there.”

“So, don’t you think he should go to England instead?” I asked, but I could see Mathias shaking his head.

“I’m going to Germany, Ani.” Mathias’s voice was flat, and I knew he’d made his decision.

Over Papá’s shoulder I spotted a soldier approaching. Our time was up.

Papá glanced back, then faced us again.

He gave Mathias a quick nod and said, “Good luck to you, son.” Then he looked at me. His eyes seemed to be trying to memorize everything about me.

We had only a moment left to say goodbye.

“
Te quiero mucho
, Papá,” I said, hugging him.

“And I love you,
mi preciosa
.” He kissed the top of my head, and I could feel his arms gripping me tightly.
“Que Dios te bendiga.”

My voice cracked as I said, “God bless you too, Papá.”

“José, I’m sorry, but it’s time.” The soldier was standing right next to us.

Papá nodded and let me go.

I watched as Papá and the other soldier walked back to the jeep and climbed in. For a second I thought of running after them and throwing myself against Papá, begging him not to leave. But I knew better. Growing up, I’d never considered myself very brave … but I had to be. For Papá’s sake. For my own.

As the soldiers drove off, Mathias put his hand on my shoulder. It gave me added strength. I could do this.

Then, from the darkness, I heard Papá yell, “
¡Adiós, Preciosa!
Write to me from England!”

With silent tears rolling down my cheeks, I muttered, “I will.”

FORTY-FOUR

“I
t’ll be all right,” Mathias said as we knocked on the door of the Garza house. “You’ll be safe there. No one messes with England.”

I shrugged, still trying to get my head around the fact that I’d be leaving Guernica. It seemed that there would be a lot of letter writing in my future.

As the door flung open, Señora Garza ran past us and out into the darkness. “Oh, I can’t believe this!” She spun around. “You’re here and they just left! Bernardo!” she called out to Garza. “Bernardo, try to see if you can stop the soldiers!”

“No, no. We saw them,” Mathias said, putting his hand on the old woman before she became hysterical.

“You saw them?” she asked.

“Yes.” I smiled. “I got to see Papá.”

Señora Garza placed a hand over her chest and let out a big sigh.
“Menos mal,”
she said, walking back into the house with us. “I thought for sure you’d missed them.”

“What is all the shouting about?” Garza stood in the middle of the room, a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

“She thought I’d missed seeing my father, but we ran into him—”

“Why do you still have that? I thought you gave them all to the soldiers.” Señora Garza pointed to the small white box Garza was holding.

Garza held up the cigarette he had just tapped out from the pack. “It’s the only one I kept.” He looked at Mathias as he crumpled up the empty pack and tossed it on a small table. “Did you do everything that needed to be done?”

Mathias nodded.

“Let’s go talk outside.” Garza put an arm around Mathias’s shoulder and led him back into the darkness, where they could speak privately.

It was obvious where I was not wanted. A feeling of hurt crawled inside me. I thought Mathias and I were spy partners to the end. I guess the bombing destroyed that too. Was I back to being an invisible girl?

Without much thought, I followed Señora Garza to the kitchen to help with the dinner, which was already cooking. I wasn’t sure what we’d be eating, but between the rumbling of my belly and the wonderful smells coming from the two covered pots, I knew it’d be delicious. Farm living had some definite advantages.

“Do you know what those two are talking about?” Señora Garza asked me.

I shook my head. “No, I thought you might.”

“Bernardo told me he was going to talk to Mathias … 
rechannel his anger.” She handed me several mismatched plates. “I’m still waiting to find out how it all went.”

“Mathias does seem less angry.” I thought of how focused he was when we spoke walking back from Guernica. “But he still wants to leave.”

“Maybe Bernardo is working on that right now.”

“Abuela, is dinner ready?” Julián asked, rolling into the kitchen.

“Almost.” Señora Garza carried one of the large pots to the table. “Tell your grandfather and Mathias to come inside and then go back with the children. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“What about Ani? Why can’t—”

Señora Garza cut him off by raising her finger. “Not now, Julián.” She had a look that meant there was no discussing this. “Go do as you’re told.”

“
Sí
, Abuela.” Julián wheeled his chair around. I could hear him muttering under his breath about how it wasn’t fair and why did he have to do so much.

“We need to talk about what your father wants for you, Ani. But not in front of the kids.”

My leaving Guernica. I still couldn’t believe it.

As Garza and Mathias both walked into the small kitchen, Señora Garza turned off the stove and faced her husband.

“We need to explain things to Ani, but not in front of you-know-who.”

Garza nodded, his cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips.

“Did your father get a chance to talk to you?” Garza asked.

I nodded. “He mentioned I was supposed to go to England
with some other children, but that’s all. We didn’t have time for much else. He said he’d explained it to you.”

Garza took a long drag from the cigarette and slowly exhaled. “The plan’s been in the works for a while. An evacuation of sorts,” he said, the smoke rising in front of him like a cloud. “A few thousand will be going with you.”

“A few thousand?” I repeated, certain I couldn’t have heard correctly.

“Yes. Many parents believe that this is the only way to protect their children … especially now with these bombings.”

“Can’t you put that thing out?” Señora Garza complained, pointing to the small cigarette stub in between Garza’s fingers. “We’re about to eat.”

“It’s my last one.… I’ll enjoy it to the end. Who knows when I’ll get more?” He sucked on it again.

“Ha! You’ll just buy more when you take Ani to the port in a few days,” Señora Garza huffed.

“A few days? So soon?” I asked. I hadn’t realized that I’d be leaving everything so quickly.

Garza nodded. “We’ll head to Bilbao by Saturday or Sunday. Depends on how fast they clear the mines in the bay and what’s happening with the roads.”

“Wait, if that’s the case, can’t I just leave with Ani?” Mathias looked at Garza. “Wouldn’t that work?”

My heart raced with the possibility that Mathias had decided to join me. Leaving wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t doing it alone.

Garza dropped what remained of the cigarette in a nearby
ashtray. “I suppose we could do that. It would require some extra effort, but I think it can be done.”

I grabbed Mathias’s shirt so he’d look at me. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind? You’ll go to England with me?”

Mathias let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “I already told you. I’m leaving, but not to England. Garza is helping me get to Germany.”

My shoulders slumped. “I thought—”

“What do you mean Garza is helping?” Señora Garza grabbed a kitchen towel and hit her husband with it before Mathias could answer. “Bernardo, what have you done?”

“Graciela,” Garza began to explain, “I helped Mathias develop a plan. He was going to go anyway, but at least now he’s approaching things with a cool head. My contacts are working it out for him. Getting things … 
coordinated
.”

“Ay, Bernardo!”
Señora Garza exclaimed, a scowl on her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve dug up your old contacts from twenty years ago? Do you think you can still be a war hero by sending this boy on a fool’s errand?”

“I have old
and
new contacts, I’ll have you know.” Garza reached for the still-smoldering cigarette stub, but the tip crumbled into ashes as he picked it up. He tossed it back into the ashtray. “And no one here is being a fool.”

“Señora Garza, please don’t get upset,” Mathias pleaded. “I have to do this. I
need
to do this … for my parents … for myself.”

Señora Garza opened her mouth to say something, but as she looked at Mathias, she thought better of it.

I knew why she had changed her mind, because I’d noticed it too. There was a new sense of purpose, a determined focus, to Mathias’s demeanor. It was something that hadn’t been there before. It bothered me, although I wasn’t sure why.

No one else interrupted Garza as he briefly explained how his contacts would get a Spanish passport for Mathias and how he’d then travel to France on a merchant ship before continuing on to Germany.

“None of this is fair,” I muttered.

“¿Qué?”
Garza asked, looking at me as if he’d almost forgotten I was there.

“All of this. The war, people dying, having to leave Spain.” I knew I sounded like Julián, but I didn’t care. “It’s just not right.”

Mathias nodded, but said, “Life isn’t always fair.”

I wasn’t sure if I liked this more mature version of my friend.

He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “But it’s what you do about the unfairness that counts.”

FORTY-FIVE

I
wish I could say that the next morning I woke up having had some huge epiphany about how I could make my life meaningful … but I didn’t. Nothing had changed. I didn’t know how to be like Mathias.

Even when we decided to go back into town to help with the cleanup, the men seemed to accept Mathias’s assistance, but shunned mine. I knew it was probably due to our difference in size and the fact that he was a boy, but it was all too familiar. I was becoming invisible again.

Realizing that I wasn’t accomplishing anything by standing around watching Mathias work, I decided to wander the streets of my once-beautiful city. Much of the rubble had been cleared, and I could see the skeletal remains of so many people’s lives. I paused at an apartment building missing its entire facade. The front wall had crumbled, leaving every apartment exposed. The furniture and belongings of each family that had once lived there were frozen in time, giving
me a peek into their lives. I wondered how many of them would never return.

A thud and a flash of light made me quickly turn around. A man holding a large camera was a few feet away.

I’d seen a couple of unfamiliar faces on the street asking questions about the bombing. I figured they were either reporters or spies.

Our eyes met for a moment, and that was enough for the man to smile and walk toward me. He asked me something in a language I couldn’t understand and pointed to the building. He seemed to want to know if I lived there.

I shook my head.

He paused, and with a very heavy accent, he said,
“Tú. Ver. ¿Bombas?”
He pointed to the sky and gestured as if his fist were falling through the air.

This photographer-reporter was asking if I’d seen the bombs fall from the planes.… What a stupid question! Of course I’d seen them, just like everyone else who now roamed the streets. I wanted to tell him all about what I’d seen, what I didn’t want to remember, but there was no way he’d really understand … even if we spoke the same language.

My gaze slipped away from him and onto some point in the distance. I just nodded and said,
“Muchas bombas.”
There was a larger story to be told, but someone else would have to tell him.