“She did! To be honest, I had my doubts,” Grandfather said. “That should have been the headline for the day.”
Bella set the paper on her lap. “I wish I had talent.”
“You do. You read beautifully. I know you’ll win a part in a play someday.”
“But I want to do something great right now,” Bella said.
“Good. I guarantee you’ll find your way in time.”
That evening after the supper dishes were dried, Juanita ran to Bella, as she always did. “Story time!”
“There’s something special first.” Bella ran to her room and brought back the article Grandfather had clipped out for her.
“I want to hear a story,” Pedro said.
“This is even better,” Bella said.
“Indeed it is.” A deep voice rumbled at the back door.
“Grandpapa!” Isabel and Juanita ran forward to hug his leg.
“I don’t want an article,” Pedro said to Bella. “I want a story.”
“Listen to your sister for a moment,” Grandfather said, “and then I’ll read you a story myself.” He pulled a copy of Treasure Island from his jacket pocket.
“Pirates!” Pedro yelled.
Bella began, “Chattanooga, Tennessee. April second. Jackie Mitchell, a seventeen-year-old, making her debut in professional baseball, struck out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig today.”
Pedro’s eyes darkened. “A girl? Never!”
“Let me finish.”
“It can’t be true!”
“Look for yourself.”
Pedro stuck his face close to the page.
“Amazing, isn’t it? Are you ready for your story now?” Grandfather began reading about a mysterious old pirate named Long John Silver, and Isabel and Juanita sat up in their chairs and hugged their knees to their chests.
Just then static buzzed through the window. Grandfather stopped and marked his place with his finger. “What on earth?”
“It’s José Navarro’s new Silvertone 1100,” Pedro said.
“Silvertone?” Grandfather frowned.
“A radio,” Pedro said. “Have you ever heard anything so great?”
“How can a man think with that dreadful sound?” Grandfather walked over to the window. “Do you mind if I close this?”
“Go ahead,” Mama said.
Grandfather read a few more sentences and stopped. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. “It certainly is warm.”
Mama nodded, fanning herself with a folded piece of paper.
“Can’t we open the windows?” Pedro asked.
“Your grandfather prefers the quiet,” Mama said.
“I should be getting home anyway,” Grandfather said.
“Please stay a little longer,” Bella said.
“I need to prepare for tomorrow’s readings. Why don’t you finish the chapter?” Grandfather handed Bella the book.
Pedro opened the window, and Bella began where Grandfather had left off. To drown out the radio, she pretended she was on a lector’s platform, projecting to the farthest corner of a crowded hall. The children’s faces were intent as Bella read how Long John Silver pushed a wheelbarrow holding a sea chest up to the door of Jim Hawkins’s inn, chanting: “Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest—Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum.”
The drone of the radio soon faded into the background as Bella’s voice brought to life the dark pirate’s tales of shipwrecks, walking the plank, and hangings.
CHAPTER 10
La Resistencia Revisited
“I almost wish we’d move, so Papa could never find us again,” Mary said. “Six months. Not a postcard. Not a nickel to help us out.” Bella looked at the United States map Mary had taped on her bedroom wall. Stickpins showed the places from which her father had sent letters: Philadelphia, St. Louis, Denver, and finally, Livingston, Montana.
“You don’t mean it,” Bella said. “I’d give anything to have a hope of seeing my father again.”
“I’m sorry.” Mary squeezed Bella’s hand. “But sometimes I could scream.”
“You’re mad now,” Bella said, “but if he doesn’t come home, I can see you heading out to Livingston—wherever on earth that is—to track him down.”
“You’re probably right,” Mary said.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
They headed up Eighteenth Street and turned east on Twelfth Avenue. The sun was dropping behind the trees when they reached the edge of town. “The moss looks like it’s on fire.” Bella admired the red light that filtered through the branches of a live oak. “Remember when we saw that green flash of light just before sunset at the beach?”
“Let’s talk about important things,” Mary said. “Like the way Tony Martino was staring at me during our spelling test.”
“I thought you didn’t like him anymore?”
“I looked up from my paper and those dreamy eyes were—” Mary stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Bella asked.
Mary pointed to a hand-lettered sign that was nailed to a post straight ahead: NO LATINS OR DOGS ALLOWED.
“No Latins allowed.” Mary hung her head. “Don’t they know who founded this town?”
“Let’s go.” Bella pulled her along. “The Anglos and the KKK have put those signs up before. You’ve got to be tough.”
“I feel like taking a hammer and smashing that board to pieces,” Mary said.
“Grandfather just laughs at signs like that,” Bella said.
“How can he?”
“He says anger gives the Klan and their kind a power they don’t deserve.”
“I still wish I had a hammer.” Mary walked faster. “I’m surprised those idiots know how to spell dog.”
“I agree.” Bella matched Mary’s stride. “I’d like to smash them and their signs.”
“Latin power!” Mary lifted Bella’s hand and yelled, “Hip hip, hooray.”
When Bella visited Grandfather later that week, he said, “We may have a battle here after the cigar workers vote.”
“Aunt Lola says it will be the biggest election since the Resistencia strike vote in 1901.”
“Did she tell you how the 1901 strike ended?”
Bella shook her head.
“The Resistencia walkout shut down the town. I thought the cigar companies would give in, but the Tampa businessmen formed a secret citizens’ committee.”
“Like they’re threatening now?” Bella asked.
“Exactly,” Grandfather said. “In the middle of the night a schooner steamed up the Hillsborough River. A group of thugs crept into town and kidnapped thirteen of the strike leaders. They hauled them to Honduras and stranded them on a deserted beach. The kidnappers told them: ‘Be seen again in Tampa, and it means death.’ ”
“But that was against the law!”
“The police and politicians let the committee run the town. It made no difference that the wives of the kidnapped men wrote to the governor of Florida. Their appeal was ignored. The message was clear: tobacco companies are immune from the law.”
A crackle came through the window. “Your neighbors have a radio too?”
“That blasted machine has been blaring for two days.”
“The voices are so harsh,” Bella said.
“The main problem with the radio is pace,” Grandfather said. “It never gives the listener time to breathe. A skilled reader knows when to slow things down, and he knows how to match his material to his audience and the season.”
“Like the way you change your readings during the day?”
“Exactly. Tolstoy is perfect for a brisk winter morning, while Cervantes, though he’s a man for all seasons, shines best in the green hope of spring. Would you please close the window?”
Bella walked to the window and paused. “Do you hear what they’re reading?”
“It’s all gibberish to me,” Grandfather said.
Bella raised the sash higher.
“I wanted you to shut it,” Grandfather s
aid.
“Just listen.”
A singsong voice broke through the static:
During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. . . .
“Edgar Allan Poe.” Grandfather shook his head. “Destroying great literature. I’d rather have them play their jingles.”
“You read Poe with so much more feeling,” Bella said. “Even I could do better than that.”
“Please, Bella. Close the window.”
CHAPTER 11
Graduation Day
On the day when Bella graduated from eighth grade, Grandfather treated the whole family and Mary to dinner at the Columbia Restaurant. “Money is no object when it comes to honoring Bella’s achievements,” Grandfather said.
They got the royal treatment at the Columbia. Grandfather was a friend of Pijuan, the chef; Pepin, the headwaiter; and Gregorio Martínez, a waiter called El Rey, the King, because of his elegant manners.
“And how is Señorita Lorente tonight?” El Rey bowed to Bella. “Roberto has often spoken of your fine scholarship. And I must say that you bear a striking resemblance to your beautiful grandmother. I knew Belicia well.”
Bella blushed as Grandfather beamed proudly at her.
Bella noticed that Aunt Lola studied El Rey as he walked away.
Lola said, “Now, there’s a man with proper manners. Do you know if he’s attached, Rosa?”
“Really, I’m sure you’ll find out!” Mama laughed.
“It never hurts to ask.” Lola winked at Bella and Mary.
“All I know about Gregorio is that he burst into the Columbia many years ago,” Grandfather said. “Some men were after him—he never told me why. To disguise himself, he picked up a tray and began waiting on tables. The owner was so impressed with his style that he hired him on the spot.”
Dessert was Brazo Gitano, a cinnamon-scented cake piled high with toasted meringue. Little Julio clapped his hands every time Bella gave him a taste.
Over coffee Grandfather gave Bella a leather-bound copy of Don Quixote. “This book was my father’s most prized possession,” he said. “He read it to tabaqueros in the top factories in Havana and Key West. I have two other editions at home, so you won’t be depriving anyone of hearing the story.”
“And I have a surprise for you too,” Lola said.
Bella looked for a package. Would it be some embarrassing lingerie?
“I spoke with the manager at my factory,” Lola said. “And he said he would be happy to give you a job. You’d have to start as a stemmer, but I’m sure you’d advance rapidly.”
“I’d been hoping—” Not wanting to hurt Lola’s feelings, Bella glanced at Mary. “Mary and I have always talked about going to high school.”
“I know you two like to dream,” Mama said, “but with money so short these days we have to be realistic.”
“I’d be willing to help,” Grandfather said.
“That is not your responsibility,” Mama said. “And it’s time this girl gets her head out of the clouds.” She turned to Bella. “How many of your friends are going to high school?”
“But the cigar factory?” Bella thought of the blue smoke, the hot, humid air. Men spitting into cuspidors.
“What did I tell you?” Mary whispered to Bella.
“Would you prefer these?” Mama held up her hands. Her skin was red and chafed from laundry.
“If you’d only allow me—” Grandfather began, but Mama cut him off.
“Bella should be grateful that work is available in these hard times,” she said. “Besides, in a short while a nice boy will come along and ask her to marry him.”
“I want more out of life than just getting married,” Bella said. She’d always tried to change Mama’s old-fashioned ways.
“I can understand what Bella’s saying,” Lola said.
“Would you mind your own business for once?” Mama nearly shouted at her sister.
Bella was ready to say, “And what becomes of a woman when her man is taken from her, Mama? Just what does she do with her life then?”
But before Bella could talk, Mary touched her hand and gave her a look that said, “Fighting will get you nowhere.”
The air was hot and still when Bella woke the next morning. She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her sisters, and poured some water into the washbasin. She splashed her face and patted it dry. Then she looked into the mirror above the dresser. When Grandfather told her she was as pretty as Grandmother Belicia, she’d always thought he was just being nice. Yet El Rey had said the same thing last night. Bella thought of the painting of Belicia that hung in Grandfather’s parlor. She pursed her lips and frowned. Her eyes were too large, her chest was too flat, and her ears stuck out past her braids. Perhaps Grandfather had—
Just then José Navarro’s radio started up, and Rocinante bleated mournfully in the backyard. Bella ran to quiet the goat before the noise woke Julio and the girls. But when she stepped into the kitchen, she realized the Navarros’ house was silent. Had another neighbor bought a radio?
Bella walked onto the back porch and saw a flick of gray in the oak tree. The mockingbird was sitting on a branch above Rocinante and imitating the sound of radio static. Every time the bird made its crackling whistle, Rocinante bleated and rubbed her ears against the tree.
Bella marched over to Grandfather’s with the breakfast tray clenched in her hands. She had an important question, but she told him about the mockingbird first.
“Those birds,” he chuckled, setting his newspaper aside. “A mockingbird on our block used to do a perfect imitation of a rusty gate opening.”
Stalling for time, Bella noticed the headline in the paper. “Is Scottsboro in the news again?” she asked. Scottsboro was an Alabama town where nine Negro boys—the youngest was only twelve—had been arrested for molesting two white women.
“I’m afraid so,” Grandfather said. “Eight of the boys were sentenced to death.”
“To death! That fast? How could they get a fair hearing?”
“The longest trial lasted only five hours.”
“Do you think they’re guilty?” Bella asked.
“It seems too quick and convenient,” Grandfather said. “But I can tell you have more on your mind than the law.”
“Does it show that much?”
Grandfather nodded.
“Will you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Help me convince Mama that I should go to school next fall,” Bella said.
“Rosa is a proud woman.” Grandfather set his cup down.
“She’d listen to you.”
“Rosa sees your working as a way to keep her family independent. You know I’ve offered her money more times than I can count. And frankly I haven’t saved much. It seems there’s always a good book to buy or a cause to support.”
“High school doesn’t cost anything.”
“But think of the wages you could earn. And your mother has to think of Pedro. He’ll be ready for high school soon.”
“Now you’re sounding just like Mama. Pedro hates school. Why should he go and not me?” Bella couldn’t believe what Grandfather was saying.
“As a man he’ll have to support his family.”
“But look at Mama,” Bella said. “Think how much better off we’d be if she were more educated and hadn’t been so dependent on Papa.”
“Custom dictates that a man go to school first.”
“Can’t you at least talk to her? This is my whole future.”
“As much as I’d like to help, it wouldn’t be proper for me to interfere.”
Bella felt her face redden. “Grandfather!” How could the man who had always been her champion think she was less important because she was a girl? “
You know how much I love books. If I studied hard, I might even be able to go to college. I could become a lector, like you. You said there’ve been some fine women readers in the past.”
“Luisa Capetillo was exceptional, of course. But—” Grandfather rubbed his fingers across his brow. “In truth, Bella, it’s hard for a woman to make her way in a man’s world. I’d hate to see you disappointed.”
“I’ll only be disappointed if I don’t try. If Jackie Mitchell has the courage to stand up to Babe Ruth, shouldn’t I at least be willing to take my chances at a lectern?”
“I know I’ve encouraged you to challenge yourself, but—”
“You’ve always told me that grand dreams are the seeds of grand deeds.”
“But we must be practical, too.”
She almost shouted, “Enough of this talk!” Instead, she said, “I’m going home.”
“So soon?”
“Mama needs my help.” Bella’s mouth was tight as she started down the steps. She was furious. How could he say he was worried about her being disappointed, when she was more discouraged at this moment than she’d ever been in her life?
CHAPTER 12
Despalilladoras
The evening before Bella started work at the Rafael Fuente Factory, she and Mary decided to go for a walk. Bella was sitting on the porch with Mama and the girls when Mary arrived.
Bella jumped up. “I don’t believe it!” Mary was wearing the same dress as always, but her yellow shoes were gone.
“What do you think?” Mary pushed her shiny black shoe forward as if she were modeling Cinderella’s glass slipper.
Bella leaned down. “I can see my face in the shine.”
“I bought them used from the shoemaker.”
“They look brand-new,” Bella said. “But how—”
“Did I get the money?”
Bella nodded.
“That’s the best news! Father finally wrote!”
Bella gave Mary a hug. “How wonderful!” As happy as Bella was for Mary, she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous.
“He got a job in Colorado on a big dam-building project.”
“Hoover Dam?” Mother asked.
“Yes,” Mary said. “The work is hot and dusty, but he’s getting fifty cents an hour.”
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