The Red Umbrella Page 7

  But I’d heard stories of people being arrested and never coming back. Of the paredón. The firing squad.

  “No! Please.” Tears stung my eyes.

  An officer grabbed me by the arms before I could move. I looked back at Mamá, frozen on the sofa holding Frankie, who had hidden his face in her chest. A soldier had his rifle aimed directly at them.

  Papá marched right by me, his head held up high. Quietly he whispered, “I’ll be fine. Take care of your mother.”

  Huge tears ran down my cheeks. The lump in my throat barely allowed me to breathe. I nodded as Papá was led out of our house.

  Seconds passed, but it felt like years.

  As the last of the soldiers walked out, one of them looked at our terrified faces and laughed. Before leaving, he turned and spat on the floor. “¡Gusanos!” he said.

  The door slammed shut.

  Mamá turned to look out the window. “Fernaaando!” she wailed, but he was already gone.

  Chapter 12

  A BLOW TO THE ANTI-CASTRO CAUSE

  —THE LOS ANGELES TIMES, MAY 29, 1961

  “Gracias, Antonio. Anything you can do.” Mamá wrapped the phone cord around her hand. “It’s just that it’s been over twenty-four hours and they haven’t told us anything. We’ve been so worried.”

  I looked at Mamá’s eyes. There seemed to be a sense of relief in them. I waited for her to finish.

  “No, no. Don’t worry. I won’t say a word. I know he has his pride. Yes, I’ll make sure to tell her. Adiós.” Mamá hung up and placed a hand over her heart.

  “Well? What did he say?” I asked.

  “Your uncle talked to some friends he has on the police force. He says Papá’s fine. That they haven’t officially charged him with anything yet.” Mamá ran her fingers through her hair. “It’ll all be fine. He’ll be home soon.”

  “He will? When? Today?” Frankie ran down the stairs.

  “I’m not sure, mi hijo. But soon. And Lucía, Antonio also apologized for not bringing you home from the dance. Said he didn’t know that you weren’t feeling well.” Mamá gave me a small smile. “You must’ve given him quite a scare when he realized you were gone.” She looked down as she went to twist her wedding ring and realized it wasn’t there. “I keep forgetting.” She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry they took it,” I said.

  Mamá put an arm around me. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. Antonio even thinks they might return it. Although whatever we had hidden away they’ll probably keep … just to prove a point.”

  I looked down. It was my fault. I’d confided in Ivette. Even letting it slip that Papá had hidden things in the floor. Guilt ate me up inside. But how could I tell my parents that this was all because of me?

  Mamá tugged at her ear and touched her diamond stud earring. “Look. Thanks to you, I still have these.”

  They were the only valuables the soldiers didn’t take. I was glad she’d let me wear them to the dance.

  “I’m gonna check the mail,” Frankie announced.

  Mamá nodded and picked up a broom that lay against the wall. She started sweeping the foyer and porch.

  “Maybe you should take the earrings off,” I said. “What if someone sees you?”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. If the government wants to take them, they will. But for now, I’ll wear them. Your father will love to see that I have them on.”

  “Hey, Lucy, there’s a note for you,” Frankie said coming back inside.

  “For me?”

  “Yeah, it’s from Ivette.”

  “I don’t want it. Throw it away.”

  Mamá stopped sweeping. “Lucía, I know you’re upset. But Ivette’s been a good friend to you. She called three times yesterday. We can’t blame her for what her mother thinks.”

  I could certainly blame her. And if Mamá knew what she’d done, then she’d understand why I was never going to talk to her again.

  “She told me yesterday that she was leaving today with the brigades,” Mamá said.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You know that can’t be her idea. It has to be her parents’. I’m sure fashion is not a priority for the brigadistas.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t you want to talk to her before she leaves? She’s probably nervous, and it may be a while before you can see her again.”

  “Fine.” I snatched the note from Frankie’s hand. “Let me see what she says.”

  “You don’t have to be so rude!” Frankie shouted as I ran up the stairs.

  In the quiet of my room, I opened the envelope and read the letter.

  Dear Lucy,

  I’m sorry for everything that happened to your family. I know you think I had something to do with it, but I promise that I didn’t. I’m leaving for Varadero with the brigades in a few hours and I was hoping to talk to you. If you get this message in time, please call me.

  Your friend,

  Ivette

  I put the note on the bed. Maybe Ivette hadn’t betrayed us. Maybe she was telling the truth. But then how did the soldiers know to look under the tiles? I paced around the room. Frankie had been sick in bed the whole time, so he couldn’t have told anyone. Mamá and Papá hadn’t said anything, either. Who else could it be?

  The front door creaked as it closed. I grabbed the paper and walked downstairs. Mamá and Frankie had gone outside, and the black hallway phone seemed to wait for my decision.

  If I could slip up and tell Ivette about Papá hiding the valuables, maybe she’d accidentally told someone. She always loved to gossip. But then why not just admit it? Or at least give us a warning so we could move the stuff?

  Frankie’s voice filtered into the room through the open window. “Can’t we see Papá even if he’s in jail?” he asked Mamá.

  I looked at Ivette’s note one more time. My decision was made. I crumpled up the paper and threw my friendship away.

  Chapter 13

  CUBA RADIO BROADCASTS APPEAL FOR MORE SPIES

  —THE OAKLAND TRIBUNE, MAY 31, 1961

  “He’ll be here any minute.” Mamá plumped up the small pillow resting on Papá’s favorite chair.

  I peered out the large picture window. The last four days had seemed to last a lifetime, but these final moments were the longest. Then a familiar silhouette walked down the sidewalk. “I see him!” I shouted.

  Papá’s slow stride hinted at exhaustion, but there was still a sense of pride in how he carried himself.

  “¡Gracias, Dios mío!” Mamá made the sign of the cross and checked her lipstick in the hall mirror.

  Frankie ran and opened the door. “Papá!”

  Papá smiled and hurried up the walkway. We met him halfway and smothered him with hugs and kisses.

  “Let’s get inside,” he said. The four of us moved together, as a unit, no one wanting to let go.

  Once inside, we all walked over to Papá’s chair and helped him sit down. His clothes were dirty and rumpled. He smelled like the amphitheater bathrooms after a big concert, but I couldn’t get enough of him. To me, he had never looked so good.

  “So, they dropped all the charges, right, Fernando?” Mamá asked.

  Papá nodded. “Most of them. But they’re keeping everything we hid away.”

  “I don’t care about any of that.” Mamá reached for his hand and put it against her cheek. “I’m just so glad to have you home.” She gave the palm of his hand a kiss.

  Frankie leapt onto Papá’s lap. “So, the soldiers won’t be back, right, Papá?”

  “Frankie! Papá’s tired. Get off him.” I grabbed Frankie by the arm.

  “No, it’s all right, Lucy. Here, sit next to me, too.” Papá scooted over in the chair so I could squeeze in next to him. “And no, Frankie, I don’t expect the soldiers to come back. But things are going to change for us.” He sighed and looked at Mamá sitting by his feet. “Here, first let me give you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Mamá’s weddin
g ring.

  “Fernando, you got it back!”

  Papá smiled and nodded. Mamá immediately slipped it onto her finger.

  “But that’s about all I have.” He looked down. “I lost my job at the bank.”

  “Ay, Fernando.” Mamá covered his large hands with her small ones.

  Papá shook his head. “No, it was expected. It was just a matter of time.”

  “You’ll get an even better job, Papá,” I said, trying to be positive.

  “It’ll be difficult, Lucy.” He stroked my hair. “The government controls all the industries. We’re going to have to make some adjustments.”

  “Fernando, I can work.” Mamá started to get up. “Take in some sewing. Maybe a little ironing.”

  “No, no. I won’t have my wife working. I’ll find something. Try to get some work as a handyman. See how that goes.”

  “But, Papá, can’t you convince them to give you another job … in an office?” I thought about how I’d never seen Papá fix anything around our house.

  “No, mi hija. I’ve been told that I need to prove myself first.”

  “Prove yourself how?” Mamá tucked in her cotton blouse.

  He shrugged. “Show them I’m a good revolutionary.” He looked at me and Frankie. “They mentioned the kids several times. Said that Lucía needs to volunteer to work on the farms or join the brigades if she wants to finish her education. And Frankie’ll have to join the Pioneros group to learn all about the revolution.”

  “No.” Mamá put her hands on her hips. “I won’t do that. There’s no way I’m sending my daughter away. Revolutionaries taking care of her. It’s absurd!”

  Papá nodded. “I know, I know. They want to indoctrinate the kids right under our noses.”

  “There’s got to be another way. I’ll study from home,” I said.

  “Me too. It’ll be fun!” Frankie smiled.

  I shot Frankie a nasty look. “This isn’t about fun.” I turned to Mamá. “Maybe they’ll excuse us from the service. Tío Antonio can ask about getting us some type of special permission.”

  “Don’t mention your tío’s name again!” Papá abruptly stood up, nearly dropping Frankie to the ground. “We don’t have anything to do with him!”

  “Fernando, he’s your brother. He made calls to try to get you out of jail. I know you fought the other day, but—”

  “Ha!” Papá threw his head back and laughed. “He told you he was trying to get me out, eh?” Papá shook his head. “¡Qué maldito! He saw me in jail this morning and you know what he did?”

  None of us said a word.

  “He told me that I’d asked for all of this. That it was my fault. Said he’d warned me, but that now I deserved whatever came my way!”

  Mamá shook her head. “Pero—”

  Papá interrupted. “But nothing! From now on, we have to expect the worst and hope for the best.” He looked at all three of us. “We can’t count on anyone, anymore.”

  Not even best friends, I thought.

  Chapter 14

  FIDEL SENDS TOTS TO REDS

  —THE DELAWARE COUNTY DAILY TIMES, JUNE 2, 1961

  It had been two days since Papá came home and four since Ivette left with the brigades. In under a week, my whole world had changed.

  “Can’t we go for a little while?” Frankie held his beach towel in one hand and his fishing pole in the other. “It’s summer.”

  Mamá shook her head. “I already said no, Frankie.”

  Frankie gave Mamá his sad-puppy face. “What if Papá takes me?”

  “He’s not even home right now.” Mamá pulled back the kitchen curtain and looked out the window.

  “Please, Mamá, Lucía can take me. You’ll go, right, Lucy?” He glanced over at me as I finished my lunch.

  I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do was run into soldiers, brigadistas, or anyone from school. After what happened at the dance and Papá’s arrest, I wasn’t sure how I’d be treated.

  “Frankie, por favor, give it a rest.” Mamá opened the back door just an inch and looked outside. Frankie stomped out of the room.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked, noticing my mother’s odd behavior.

  “Nada.” She closed the door. “I’m just waiting for Alicia Milian. She’s supposed to stop by.”

  “Laura’s mother?”

  Mamá picked up my empty plate and took it to the sink. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I didn’t know you were friends.”

  “Hmm.” She snuck another look out the window. “Not really friends.”

  “Is Laura coming over, then?” I gulped down the last of my lemonade.

  Mamá looked at me as if she’d just noticed I was talking. “¿Qué dijiste? You asked about Laura?”

  “Mamá, what’s going on?”

  “Nada, I said. But why don’t you go upstairs with your brother. Laura’s not coming and her mother’s only dropping something off for me.” She began to dry some of the dishes.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, remembering how much she and Papá had argued the night before. They’d thought I was asleep, but I could hear their muffled voices going back and forth until well past midnight.

  “Sí, everything’s fine.” Mamá dried her hands and pulled back the curtain. “She’s here.” She took off her apron and straightened her blouse. “Now go!”

  * * * * *

  That night, Papá called Frankie and me into the living room. He was pacing back and forth. Something was terribly wrong.

  “Mi hija, sit down.” He gestured over to the sofa. “Please.”

  “What’s going on?” I looked over at my mother, sitting in the armchair, hands crossed on her lap. A vacant look in her eyes.

  Frankie came into the room bouncing a ball. “¿Qué, Papá?”

  “Come here, Frankie.” Papá tousled Frankie’s hair, then took the ball and placed it on the floor next to the table. “Sit over there, next to your sister.”

  Papá’s somber mood frightened me. “Did something happen?”

  “No, but after …”

  My heart thumped loudly in my ears. “Are they going to arrest you again?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Does it have something to do with that man who came by a little while ago?” I thought about the short man wearing a hat who’d stayed in the shadows of our front porch talking to Papá.

  “Please, Lucy, don’t interrupt. This is hard enough.” Papá looked away.

  Silence filled the room.

  He took a deep breath and knelt down in front of Frankie and me. He reached for our hands.

  “Hijos, you’ve both heard us talking about how the government wants you to be more active in the revolution.”

  Frankie and I nodded at the same time.

  “Your mother and I don’t want that for you. We fear that it’ll change you. You’ll begin to accept what they tell you as the truth. We don’t want to lose you to something like that.”

  “You won’t lose us,” I said softly.

  Papá smiled and looked over at Mamá. She stared at the floor.

  “You think that now. But Frankie’s young. He won’t even realize it.” Papá touched my cheek. I noticed a slight tremble in his hand. “And you, mi hija preciosa. They won’t even let you finish school if you don’t join the revolution.”

  He stood, put his hands in his pockets, and took a few steps back.

  “This is so hard,” he muttered.

  “Papá …” I leaned forward, afraid that I already knew what he was about to say.

  “Your mother and I have decided …” Papá walked over and put his arm on Mamá’s shoulder. She sat frozen in place. “We’ve made plans for you to leave Cuba … tomorrow.”

  My heart stopped.

  “You and Mamá, too, right?” Frankie asked.

  My head spun. Leave Cuba? Tomorrow?

  “No, Frankie, your mother and I …”

  “They’re not going with us.” My fear turned i
nto anger. “You’re sending us away, aren’t you? Like some of the other kids. How can you do that?”

  Papá’s eyes glistened. “Lucy, we have no choice. You know they won’t let us leave with you. Alicia Milian was able to get us some visa waivers for you and Frankie, but …”

  “Wait. So where are we going?” Frankie asked.

  “To the U.S.,” Papá answered. “It won’t be for long, but you’ll be safe until things get better here.”

  I jumped up. “No! You didn’t even ask us! I won’t be shipped off!”

  Frankie slowly realized what was about to happen. “We don’t know anyone there. I can’t speak English.” He turned around. “Mamá!”

  Mamá kept her eyes focused on the floor.

  “No! I won’t do it and you can’t make me!” Frankie darted out of the room.

  I wanted to do the same. Scream, yell, beg, whatever it took.

  Papá turned to me. “Lucy, please understand. It’s the only way to protect you.” He placed his hand on my back, but I pulled away. “Mi hija, you’re old enough to know that it’s our only real choice. These brigades are only the beginning. Hundreds of children have already been sent to Russia and Czechoslovakia on supposed scholarships. And it won’t end there.”

  “But, Papá …”

  He shook his head. “Soon all kids will be forced to leave their families to go work in the fields cutting sugar cane, and then they’ll be sent away to government schools. We won’t have any say as to what happens to you or Frankie.”

  “But if you send us to the U.S., we still won’t be together.”

  “True, but I’d rather have you safe, living with a good family in the U.S., than staying in your own country with these godforsaken soldiers.”

  The slow realization that nothing I said or did could change his mind washed over me.

  “I’m so sorry, Lucy. It has to be this way.” Papá walked over and stood by Mamá, who had not yet looked up.