A Thunderous Whisper (14 page)

“I’m telling you, our soldiers and people in Bilbao will get their food and supplies. Between Basque smarts and British muscle, those merchant ships will make it through … every time!” He pounded his chest, creating his own small bout of coughing.

As he regained his breath and took a drag on the cigarette, I asked, “Do you know the name of the ship that got through last night?”

He blew out a ring of smoke and started toward the door. I was the last one left standing in the room.

“Of course. Everyone knows the name of the ship that broke Franco’s blockade: the
Seven Seas
.”

TWENTY-THREE

I
couldn’t wait to tell Mathias the news. We
had
made a difference! The
Seven Seas
got through okay. It must have changed its route or something.

Since most of lunchtime had been wasted on the air-raid warning, I had to wait until after class to find Mathias. Luckily, I didn’t have to search long. I spotted him standing right outside the school’s courtyard.

“Did you hear?” I called out, taking the steps two at a time. “The
Seven Seas—
”

“I know.” He gave me what looked like a painful smile.

“But—”

“But nothing. We did it!” I said, twirling around.

“Yes, but …” He glanced back, taking note of who was there with us. “That’s this morning’s news,” he said. “C’mon.” He turned away from me. “Let’s walk and talk.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize that whatever he had to say … it wasn’t good.

“Did something happen to the ship?” I asked.

“No.” Mathias looked around at the other students walking by.

“So, what’s going on?” I asked, stopping at the corner.

“Keep walking,” Mathias said over his shoulder.

“What’s the hurry? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

Mathias didn’t break his stride, and I had to hustle to catch up to him. “Why—”

Mathias lifted up his hand as we passed by the bank. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

We didn’t say a word for another block. “Mathias, no one else is here. What happened?”

He looked both ways and behind us to make sure we were alone. “There’s a spy in the group.”

“Um, yeah. They’re all spies. That’s the point.”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t understand. There’s a spy for Franco in the group. A double agent.”

“Wha—How do you know?”

“Father told me. The reason he was gone yesterday. He got some information.…” Mathias paused as a middle-aged woman passed by and went into one of the neighboring apartment buildings. When he was sure she was gone and the street was clear again, Mathias continued. “He verified that someone’s been reporting to Franco.”

“Wait, so who’s the double agent?” I whispered.

Mathias shrugged. “Father wouldn’t tell me, but I think we might know.”

My eyes widened. “Señor Goicochea?”

“Didn’t you say he was strange?”

I slowly nodded. “But I didn’t think he … So, now what happens?”

Mathias took off his beret and twisted it in his hands. “That’s the worst part.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Mother says we’re not safe here anymore. We’ve been ‘compromised,’ and—”

“Hold on. Your mother knows about all the spy business?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Mathias put his beret back on and guided me toward an empty bench in the plaza. Within minutes the place would probably come alive with people strolling and socializing, but for the moment it was relatively quiet. He leaned closer to me. “Seems she always knew.… Father just didn’t want her to know that I’d gotten involved too. She wasn’t happy about that.”

“Huh.” I thought about my visit with her. She didn’t seem like a spy’s wife. Then again, that was probably a good thing.

“Anyway, she says it’s time for us to move.”

“Move!” I exclaimed. Then, looking around, I dropped my voice. “Move?” I repeated. “Where?”

Mathias shrugged and leaned back. “They were talking about it when I left. Maybe Madrid, but who knows? I think they’re telling people that we have a sick relative we need to help.”

“So that’s it?” I searched his face for the answer I wanted to hear. “You just leave?”

Mathias sighed and stared up at the sky. “It’s not like I want to go. They know I want to stay, but Father says the
front lines are starting to falter. We might have had to make a quick exit no matter what.”

I thought about what he was saying. If things were getting too dangerous for a family of spies, then … “Wait. What about me?”

“You?” he asked, looking back at me.

My stomach felt as if a lead weight had been dropped in it. “Yeah. Haven’t I been ‘compromised’? What happens if Guernica falls and Franco’s men come in? Won’t I be considered a spy? Anyone think of that?”

“Father says no one will care that either of us helped. He even tried telling Mother that. But he did say that he can help get you and your mom out too.”

I’d never thought about leaving Guernica before. This was my home.… It would always be my home. I shook my head.

“I can’t leave.”

Mathias turned toward me, eagerness in his face. “But you could go to Madrid … with us.”

“You don’t even know if that’s where you’ll go.” I thought about telling Mamá that we had to move. It would probably be safer to take my chances with Franco’s soldiers. “Anyway, if you think your mother was unhappy about you being involved with spies, think of how mine would react. She doesn’t believe in getting involved. She’d kill me if she knew.”

Mathias slumped back. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“I’m not,” I answered. And I meant it.

“You may not regret it now, but you might later.”

“Nope. Never.” People were starting to come into the plaza, and the pigeons were already taking their positions,
knowing bread crumbs would soon be thrown their way. “We should go start our deliveries.”

“All right. But think about leaving. It might be a good idea,” Mathias said, standing up and holding out a hand to me.

Telling Mamá news like this could never be a good idea.

As we walked toward my street, Mathias pushed a loose rock out of the way with his
makila
. “Strange to think that these will probably be our final deliveries.”

I stopped walking. “Today? You won’t even be here through Monday?”

Mathias shrugged. “When my parents say go, it’s go.”

I was suddenly realizing what all this really meant. There’d be no more making a difference, no more extra money, and worst of all, no more friend.

TWENTY-FOUR

“T
here has to be something we can do. C’mon, think!” I commanded as Mathias and I walked along the narrow street, each holding one side of the large basket of sardines.

“There’s nothing … trust me. I’ve been through this before.” He stopped to look at me. “I used to argue, but now”—he paused—“I understand. It’s all part of the job.”

“A rotten part,” I muttered.

“Yeah. I just hope we go back to Germany. Now that I know what Father really does, I think he’ll let me help.”

“Planning to take over the family business?” I teased, a gentle wind blowing down the street as we left the last row of businesses and headed toward the wider avenues that led to the rich side of town.

“I’ve got to. People like you and me, we’ve got to stand up to evil. It’s who we are.”

“Mm-hm,” I muttered. The truth was, I’d never thought of standing up to anything or anyone until I met Mathias.
“But why head back to Germany? There’s plenty of evil here. Things are bad everywhere.”

Mathias’s face twitched. “Yeah, but you have no idea how bad things are getting there. Imagine living in a place that hates you for just being born.”

“I don’t think people over there would
hate
you—”

Mathias stopped abruptly, almost making me lose my grip on the basket. “Yes! Yes, they do!” he said, almost arguing with me. “My grandfather was sick last month, and he couldn’t even get a doctor to help him because they made it illegal to treat Jews. Like we were lepers or something.”

“That’s only a few stupid people,” I said, pulling on the basket again so we’d continue walking up the tree-lined path to Señor Beltran’s house.

“You’d be amazed how many people don’t care what’s happening to us.” He shook his head. “Jews can’t vote anymore, and we’re not allowed to have certain businesses. Heck, if we lived in Germany, we probably wouldn’t even be friends. You being a Catholic girl and me being Jewish. And you can forget about a girl like you ever growing up to marry someone like me—that’s illegal too. They’d put us in jail for that. And what they’ve been doing to anyone who speaks out …”

Mathias kept talking, but I was having a hard time concentrating on whatever else he was saying. One word in particular had become lodged in my brain.

“Are you even listening to me?” He rolled his eyes. “I swear, why do I bother telling you this stuff?” he said.

“I
am
listening. It’s horrible what Hitler is doing over there, but people will come to their senses and things will go
back to normal.” I paused for a moment. I’d never thought of Mathias as anything but a friend. “What did you mean about getting married? You mean us?”

“Huh?” Mathias gave me a puzzled look and then let out a long sigh. “I was trying to make a point. I’m not saying we’d really get married.”

I gave the basket a slight push with my hip, which caused it to bump his side. “You’d better not be saying something stupid like that.”

He took a step and shifted his weight to keep his balance. “I just said I wasn’t.”

“Better not,” I added, grabbing the basket so I now carried it by myself. I finally had a friend.… I didn’t want it all to be ruined.

“I said I wasn’t.” He placed both hands on his
makila
and stopped to stare at me. “How much clearer do I have to be? I don’t want to marry you.”

“Good!” I shot back, walking up the steps to Señor Beltran’s back door.

“Fine,” he said, still standing a few feet behind me.

I had just set down the basket and knocked on the door when I turned back to face him, hands on my hips. “Wait. Why wouldn’t you want to marry me?” I asked as the door behind me creaked open.

Mathias threw back his head and let out a big “Ughhh! Girls!”

I smiled. That was better.

TWENTY-FIVE

W
e didn’t mention the end of our deliveries to anyone except Lupe. She didn’t seem to care that much about not getting the sardines; it was the idea of not seeing us that really disappointed her.

“Mondays and Fridays just won’t be the same without the two of you,” Lupe said, not taking her eyes off the bubbling pot in front of her.

“Again, again!” demanded Carmita when Mathias stopped bouncing her on his lap.

“¿Caballito otra vez?”
Mathias faked his surprise. “How many times are you going to go for a pony ride?”

“Lots and lots!” Carmita squealed as Mathias bounced her up and down on his knees again.

“I’ll still come by whenever I can.” I placed what I knew would be our final envelope on the kitchen table.

“And maybe I’ll come back in the summer to work at the Garza farm. I can—”

“You didn’t tell me that,” I said, interrupting him. “You’d really come back?”

Mathias shrugged. “Maybe.” He tickled Carmita in the ribs. “Will you remember me in a couple of months?”

Carmita giggled, then bobbed her head up and down.

“Ani,
búscame
. Look for me,” she commanded, jumping off Mathias’s lap. She ran over to Lupe and tried to duck behind her mother’s long skirt for a game of hide-and-seek.

“Ya, Carmita.”
Lupe pulled her out by the arm. “Our friends probably have other places to go.”

“Not before I see them!” Padre Iñaki walked into the kitchen, and Carmita made a beeline for him.

He reached down and picked up the little girl.

“So, I’m guessing your father already talked to you?” he asked Mathias.

“Yes, sir. He said he’d already spoken to everyone and that you’d understand.”

“Of course. Family is hard to deny. I can understand how a sick relative would need help. We’ll certainly miss you”—he glanced over at me—“and what the two of you have been doing.”

I gave him a small smile. It was strange not to tell a priest the whole truth, but I guess there was no real way to know who the double agent was.

“Yes, these sardine deliveries have been a godsend,” Lupe said, taking Carmita from Padre Iñaki.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that, Ani.” Padre Iñaki put a hand on my back and guided me to the corner
of the kitchen. “I’ve spoken to our benefactors, and they’d still like to donate sardines and have some delivered to their homes, just not as many. Maybe every two weeks? Starting in a couple of weeks.” Padre Iñaki gave me a look. “You can manage this on your own, right?”

Should I keep doing this even though there was a double agent? Mathias thought we were meant to fight evil.… Was this the way I’d do it? On my own?

I slowly nodded, but more doubts were creeping into my thoughts. Maybe I should follow Mathias’s other advice and just tell Mamá. Plus, who would give me the messages to deliver, and where would I pick them up?

As if reading my mind, Padre Iñaki added, “It will all work out. You’ll start your deliveries at Señor Beltran’s house and go from there … 
¿entiendes?
”

I could tell things had already been discussed and decided. I would do it for now.… I could always change my mind later. “
Sí
, I understand.”

“Well, this is good news: sardines and visits from you.” Lupe squeezed my cheeks and smiled. “Things are a bit less dire.”

My eyes avoided Lupe’s because I knew that things were most certainly
not
getting better.

She walked over to Mathias and leaned Carmita toward him. “Say goodbye to Mathias, Carmita. He’s leaving on a trip with his parents.”

Carmita gave Mathias a big, slobbery kiss on the cheek. “
Adiós
, Mati. Have fun,” she said.