A Thunderous Whisper (24 page)

He stepped back and took another picture, this time of me.

The flash from the camera caught me by surprise and made me see spots everywhere. By the time my eyesight returned to
normal, the photographer was saying
“gracias”
and moving on to another image down the street.

Perhaps a picture could be worth a thousand words.

Late that afternoon, while walking back to Garza’s farm, Mathias mentioned all the people he’d seen who had survived. There were more than I expected, especially considering that most of the city had been destroyed.

I told him about the photographer, and he wasn’t surprised. A couple of men had been asking questions around where he was working … although he wasn’t sure if they were reporters or spies for Franco. Either way, he’d chosen not to talk to them.

“I’d rather you tell the story,” Mathias explained. “Aren’t you going to be my storyteller anyway?”

I smiled. He’d taken Diego’s nickname for me to heart. “I guess. But who am I supposed to tell exactly?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, his eyes still on the road ahead of us. “England’s a pretty big country.… You’ll find someone who’ll listen.”

I wasn’t so sure.

The next day everyone from town gathered at the church for a special Mass to mourn those who had died in the bombing—including those who would never be buried because their bodies couldn’t be found. For all of us who had lost family, this would be our final goodbye.

The service was exactly as I expected. Cleared of the broken glass and fallen plaster, the damaged church was
filled to capacity with people mourning their fathers, mothers, children, and friends. I stood in the back, silently praying for Mamá and clutching the brass weight I still kept in my pocket.

Even though all around me stood a sea of familiar faces, I somehow felt more isolated than I had for several days. It was as if the sadness I’d been carrying around had finally surrounded me and separated me from everyone else.

“You’re not alone,” Mathias whispered as we exited the church.

“What?” I asked, watching as Garza went to talk to Padre Iñaki.

“You just had this look on your face. It reminded me of that day when we first met … under the tree. But you’re not the same person you were back then. You’ve got me.… You’ve got friends.”

I stayed quiet, thinking about how much my life had changed in the last few weeks … for the better and for the worse.

I was about to say something about my always being there for him too when a deep voice interrupted us.

“Permiso, niños.”

Mathias and I turned around to see Padre Iñaki standing behind us. He glanced at the crowd of people still waiting for him by the church’s doorway.

He got closer to Mathias and whispered, “I have only a moment to speak with you in private, but Garza tells me you’re still planning to go to Germany.”

Mathias nodded.

“Here, shake my hand.” Padre Iñaki stretched out his hand.

Mathias gave me a puzzled look, but did as he was told.

I saw the priest slip a piece of green paper into Mathias’s palm.

“It’s the name of someone you can contact,” he said. “In case you get into trouble.” He leaned closer to us. “Or if you find out some valuable information that we should know about. We don’t want to be caught by surprise again.” He held Mathias’s hand a second longer. “We have to be careful who we trust.”

Mathias gave him a slight nod, understanding the meaning behind his words.

“¡Bien! ¡Bien!”
The priest looked over his shoulder at some of the people waiting for him. “You’ll stay strong for your family,” he said in a voice loud enough that others could hear.

Trust was something relative during a war.

“No! No!” Carmita yelled as she ran toward us. A tall man in a dark suit chased after her. “I want Ani and Mathias to come too,” she cried as she wrapped herself around my legs.

The man looked at us and tried to pry Carmita’s arms away from me.

“¿Lo puedo ayudar?”
I asked, protectively putting my arms on Carmita’s back.

“Oh. Excuse me, I’m sorry.” He took a step back, and Carmita relaxed her grip ever so slightly. “My name is Fernando Goizuela. I’m Carmita’s uncle … Lupe’s brother.”

Mathias crouched down to talk to Carmita. “Is that true?
¿El es tu tío?
”

Carmita nodded.

“I’m sorry about Lupe,” I said. “She was a very nice woman.”

“Yes, yes she was.” Señor Goizuela quickly made the sign of the cross over his chest. “God bless her soul.”

Carmita looked up at me. “Ani, I don’t want to leave you. Come with me.”

“Go with you? Where?”

“I’m taking Carmita back with me to Madrid,” Señor Goizuela explained, bending down on one knee to look at Carmita. “Your two cousins, María José and Enrique, will be there. Do you remember them from the time you visited us last year?”

Carmita shook her head. “I want Ani and Mathias!” she demanded.

I stooped down to join Mathias and Señor Goizuela at Carmita’s eye level. “Carmita, Mathias and I can’t go with you, but we’ll all still be friends.”

“You need to go with your uncle. It’s what your mother would want,” Mathias said.

Carmita perked up. “Will Mamá be there?” she asked, looking at each of us for the answer she wanted to hear.

Señor Goizuela stroked his niece’s hair. “No. Lupe, your mother, won’t be there, but we’ll think about her often … 
¿está bien?
I’ll even show you a few pictures of how she looked when she was little … just like you.”

Carmita seemed to like the idea and slowly unclenched her grip on my skirt.

“
Adiós
, Carmita,” I said as the little girl took hold of her uncle’s hand. “Be good.”

“You too,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. She then gave Mathias a quick peck.

Carmita’s uncle gave Mathias and me a slight nod of appreciation, then he and Carmita walked away, hand in hand.

Mathias sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could be that young and not understand what’s really happening.”

“Me too,” I said. “But those days are gone.”

As I watched Carmita round the corner with her uncle, it seemed as if I could feel another tie to my past unravel. There wasn’t much keeping me in Guernica.

An unknown path lay ahead, yet I didn’t know how to take the first step.

FORTY-SIX

T
he rest of the day, Mathias and I kept busy helping with the cleanup efforts. We saw Señor Beltran briefly, but he quickly turned away from us, not even acknowledging that he knew us or asking how we were. Not that I could blame him. Everyone was wary about what might happen next. Rumors were already flying that the front lines were faltering and that Guernica might fall to the Franco forces within a few days. People were streaming out, in search of a new place of refuge, while those who remained tried to piece together the broken town.

But through it all, I kept thinking of what would come next. It was as if I’d already said goodbye to my old life. Perhaps that’s the reason I’d been so quiet at dinner and why, even now, I stayed quiet as Señora Garza talked about England.

She had insisted I wear something nice on my trip, so she’d given me her favorite flowery dress and was in the process of trying to pin it and make it at least eight sizes
smaller. I dropped my arms a bit from their outstretched position.

“
No, todavía
. I haven’t finished taking in the other side,” she said.

I lifted my arms again as if I were being crucified. I wondered if it were somehow symbolic of the old me dying. If so, who was going to take the place of that invisible Sardine Girl? Who would I be now that everyone and everything I’d ever known had been taken away?

Mathias was so certain of what to do next. He was going to a place where he could do something. Fight Hitler, help the Jews, maybe even get information to the Basques.… He’d be important. I, on the other hand, would be off in England, where nothing really happened. It was why Papá wanted me to go there … to be safe. Did safe have to be insignificant?

At first light, I woke up knowing that we would be heading out to Bilbao soon. Señora Garza’s flowery dress lay draped over the end of my bed, and I quickly slipped it on. It fit perfectly, and she’d even made a small pouch out of the extra fabric. It gave me an idea.

It was barely dawn, but I decided to go back to the field for one last visit.

I crossed the empty pasture and touched the gnarly bark of the old oak tree. It had been here for so long. I wondered about all the stories it could tell. The events of my life were probably only the latest it had witnessed. I hoped to one day come back here and continue my story.

Impulsively, I gave the tree a kiss before racing back up to the Garza house.

Once there, I noticed that everyone except for the babies was waiting outside for me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be ready,” I said to Garza, who was already up on the wagon, holding the horse’s reins.

“
No te preocupes
. But we need to get going,” he said.

I walked over to Mirentxu, who, ever since Carmita left, had become almost as quiet as the silent boy.

“I’ll miss you, Mirentxu,” I said.
“Pórtate bien.”

“Why does everyone have to leave?” she asked.

I shrugged, not knowing how to answer.

“Can I go with you?” she asked, her big eyes welling up with tears.

“No.” I shook my head and opened my arms for her to give me a hug. “Padre Iñaki is trying to find some of your family,” I whispered into her hair as she squeezed me. “You’ll get to stay with them soon.”

“What if nobody wants me?” she asked, so quietly that I could barely hear her.

It was the question I’d lived with all my life.

“You already have people who want you. The Garzas, Mathias … me.” I pushed her back so I could see her eyes. “Mirentxu, you’re a special girl. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different. You’re important.”

She gazed at me as if my words held a sort of magic.

I smiled. “Always remember that … okay?”

She stood motionless, just looking at my face.

“Promise me that you’ll remember.”

She slowly nodded, breaking her trance. “I’m special,” she muttered. Then, just as suddenly, she turned around and skipped toward the house, singing, “Ani thinks I’m important, Ani thinks I’m important.”

The little boy I’d named José had been standing against the wall watching the whole scene.

“You’re special too,” I said to him.

He shrugged and walked away.

It felt final. I had the sinking feeling that I’d never see him again or learn his real name.

“Ani!” Mathias called out.
“¡Vámonos!”

I looked up at the brilliant blue sky. I paused to soak it all in. The feel of the cool mountain breeze on my cheeks, the clucking sound of the chickens in the henhouse, the smell of the wet earth still covered with dew. I wanted to capture every little thing about this place.

Señora Garza walked up behind me. “It’s only temporary. You’ll be back soon,” she said.

It was the same refrain she’d been telling Julián since they’d decided yesterday to send him to England along with me.

I glanced back at the horse-drawn cart. Mathias sat next to Garza.… Julián was sitting in the back, and his wheelchair was tied to the left side of the wagon.

“¡Un besote!”
Señora Garza said, giving me a big kiss on the cheek. “You’re sure you don’t want to take any of my other clothes to change into later? I should have fixed another one of my dresses. Maybe I can give you something else.” The old woman began to search her pockets.

“No, I’m fine.
De veras
.” I gave her a hug.

“Keep an eye on Julián,” she whispered. “He’s a handful, but he’s all we have.”

I pulled away and gave her a weak smile. “I’ll do my best,” I said before climbing into the back of the wagon with him.

As Garza cracked the whip and the wagon started rolling forward, I was almost certain that in the distance, even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, I heard the rumble of thunder.

FORTY-SEVEN

T
he port in Santurce, across the bay from Bilbao, was crowded and chaotic. It was from here that our ship would sail to England, and my body already ached with a longing to go back to Guernica.

Walking around our wagon there were people carrying suitcases, pushing and shoving each other to get by, merchant seamen yelling out instructions to their crews, and children crying as their parents hurried them along.

Garza stopped the wagon as close as he could to the ship we’d been instructed to board, the SS
Habana
. There was already a large group of children being herded together by a few nuns and priests. Garza came to the back of the wagon to unload Julián’s wheelchair. I could see tears forming in the old man’s crinkly eyes.

“Ani.” Mathias touched my hand.

“Not yet,” I pleaded, “please.” I didn’t want to say those dreaded words to Mathias.

He smiled and nodded. “I’ll walk you and Julián as far as I can. They’ll think I’m going too.”