“The owners want it gone. They’re building an addition.” The driver eased out the clutch. Once the cable tightened, the other man started pulling his saw across the base of the tree.
Bella sprinted up Grandfather’s front steps. “How could they do it! How could they?”
“The paradise tree, you mean?” Grandfather put his book aside.
“You knew?”
“I didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
“How could they cut down such a beautiful tree?” Her eyes filled with tears.
“We’re living in the age of the machine,” Grandfather said.
“Did you hear we’ve been locked out of the Fuente factory?”
“They’ll rehire the workers after the holidays. But at a reduced wage, of course.”
“Then they’ll bring the readers back too.”
“We were removed because the owners needed to blame their labor troubles on someone.”
“But you shared so many ideas!” Bella said.
“Ideas are what businessmen fear most. They pretend to believe in democracy, but they do everything in their power to crush it. In Cuba even the dictator Machado allows the lectores to denounce him and his policies.”
“You belong at your lectern,” Bella said. “And someday I’ll stand at my own reading platform.”
“The radio suits the factory owners. They want the workers entertained, not enlightened. And if they don’t agree with the programs, they can buy the station and change them.”
“But think of how much they’ll be losing,” Bella said.
Grandfather noticed the leather pouch in Bella’s hand. “What’s that?” She opened her hand. “The tobacco seeds!”
“I went to the Lido,” Bella said.
“A miracle!” Grandfather said. “Though you never should have gone there on your own.”
“I was so happy about the seeds,” Bella said. “But now— That tree was so lovely.” She stared at the pouch. “Why can’t happiness ever last?”
“Don’t let the tree spoil what you did.” Grandfather reached for his hat. “We must tell your mother that you’ve brought back the seeds!”
CHAPTER 24
The Bread Nail
Bella woke to the smell of kerosene. She was shivering under the covers, and hungry. As happy as Mama had been at the return of the seeds, they didn’t help put food on the table.
To make things worse, December brought the first cold spell of the season. Once they lit the parlor heater, a burnt, sulfurous smell filled the house and got into everyone’s clothes and hair. As Bella climbed out of bed and dressed she could see her breath in the air. Ybor usually had only one or two days of freezing weather each winter, but since the casitas were built on pilings and poorly insulated, any cold was miserable.
Bella worried about Lola each day when she woke. Today she thought, Dear Tía, I hope you’re warm.
Julio woke crying, and Bella bundled him in a blanket and carried him to the parlor before she dressed him. A short while later Juanita and Isabel scurried down the hall and huddled close to the heater as they slipped on their dresses. Pedro was already outside feeding Rocinante, who was frisky and happy in the cold.
After sending the children off to school, Bella walked to Grandfather’s. He was frowning at the paper. “The mayor has authorized a secret committee of twenty-five to go after the union. The city council deputized special policemen to carry weapons. We can only hope that—”
Just then a knock came at the door. Grandfather looked up and saw Juan Fernandez. “Good morning, Juan. Please come in.”
“I am afraid I bear more bad news, señor.”
“I’ve heard about the police raid on union headquarters.”
“There’s more. The courts have issued an order banning the union. And they list two Spanish newspapers and a hundred and forty people—I am sorry to say that you are among them—who are forbidden from publishing ‘seditious literature or speeches.’ ”
“Seditious?” Bella asked.
“Another way of saying I can’t discuss the strike in public,” Grandfather said.
“What about freedom of speech?” Bella asked.
“Freedom in Tampa is for a select few,” Juan said.
After Juan had left, Grandfather set his coffee cup down. “I’m not in the mood for breakfast right now.”
“Did you visit Lola yesterday?” Bella asked.
“She’s amazing. So strong. But how long can she hold up if the court won’t set a trial date?” Grandfather asked.
“They know they have no evidence.”
“I can’t believe it’s come to this.” Grandfather rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Bella had never seen him so discouraged.
He stared at his coffee cup. “After all the years I’ve searched for the proper voice to bring my stories to life. What do I have to show for it now but a house full of useless books? And my poor Lola . . . I’ve squandered my wealth for nothing but”—he touched a volume of Voltaire beside his chair— “empty ideas.”
“Don’t say that,” Bella said. “Every worker in the city respects you so much.”
As Bella hugged Grandfather, he looked at the painting of Belicia and said, “The companies have won the silence they’ve always wanted.”
When Bella got home, Mama had a rusty hammer in her hand.
“There must be some other way,” Bella said.
They looked at each other. “We have to eat.” Mama handed the hammer and nail to Bella.
Bella walked to the front porch and tapped the second nail into the wooden siding next to the door. They were ordering day-old bread for the first time in Bella’s life, and everyone in town would know how far the Lorentes had fallen.
CHAPTER 25
A Christmas Memory
On the morning of December eleventh, Bella was starting the fire under Mama’s washtub when Lorena stopped by. “I just heard the factories are set to reopen on the fourteenth,” she said.
“Under terms set by the citizens’ committee?” Bella asked.
“We tried our best,” Lorena said. “The good news is our whole crew, except for Ruby, has been rehired.”
“Why not Ruby?”
“They labeled some workers agitators and laid them off.”
“The committee!” Bella said.
“I know it’s unfair,” Lorena said. “I swear if it wasn’t for having kids to feed I’d tell the owners to strip their own tobacco leaves. But with bills hanging over my head—”
“The layoffs have made it tough on everyone,” Bella said. “Mama says Mr. Cannella is holding pages of unpaid accounts at his store.”
“I can try to sell more papers,” Pedro offered.
Bella gave Pedro a hug. “You’ve been helping as much as you can.”
On the morning when Bella returned to work, she felt torn. Her family needed the money, but how could she support the factory owners who were trying to destroy Grandfather and Lola?
She and Mary had talked and talked about her choices. In the end Mary said, “You have to do what you think is right.”
Bella rose early and made coffee. She heard the bread man on the front porch delivering their day-old loaf. The first thing she would do when she got home from work was take down the second nail beside the door.
On the way to the factory she buttoned up her sweater to block the breeze. Last night’s ground fog still lingered in places, and the damp cold made her legs ache. Aunt Lola had always teased her when she complained about the cold. “Don’t be a sissy,” Lola would say. “Did I ever tell you about the winter I spent working at a cigar factory in Buffalo, New York?” And she’d go on to describe the handsome Jell-O salesman she’d met in the train depot.
As Bella neared the main entrance, she heard voices coming from the second floor. Could the rollers be at their benches this early? No—the radio. Bella stopped on the front steps. The voice was fast and choppy, clipping off the words.
“Is another one of my
chickens coming home to roost?” a rough voice said. Edgar Mendez leered at her from the doorway, showing his shiny gold tooth. “You got wax in your ears, girl? I asked if you’re coming in. I told the boss it wasn’t your fault that your aunt and grandfather are radicals, and he agreed to save a place for you.”
Bella turned around.
“Where are you going?” Edgar said.
“To visit a radical!” Bella said.
“Turn your back on us, and no factory will ever hire you.” When Bella didn’t answer, he yelled, “You’re just as stubborn as that aunt of yours.”
Bella lifted her chin high as she walked down the sidewalk. She was proud to be compared to Aunt Lola. Wasn’t this the modern age, when all things were possible? If a woman like Amelia Earhart could set flying records, and if a young girl from Chattanooga could strike out Babe Ruth, then she could stand up to a cigar company.
Despite the cold, Bella began to walk slowly. It felt good to leave Edgar. But what if she’d done something stupid? Would her family end up suffering for her pride?
She soon found herself tapping lightly on Grandfather’s door. “Is anyone home?”
Grandfather smiled. “Belicia,” he said. “My morning angel. What a pleasant surprise. I thought you’d be returning to the fac—” Grandfather stopped when Bella’s eyes filled with tears.
“I couldn’t abide that Mendez man calling Tía Lola names.”
“No person of principle could. The shameless ones who grovel before the bosses forget that even the brightest gold will tarnish—”
“—but honor shines ever brighter with the passing of time.” Bella finished the sentence for him.
“Bravo!” Grandfather said, giving her a hug. “Now that you’ve rejoined the ranks of the unemployed, let’s go to the Columbia Restaurant and celebrate with a second breakfast.”
“But surely you can’t afford—”
“When an event is worthy, no expense should be spared.”
By late December, Grandfather had used up his savings to pay Lola’s new lawyer. Whenever he was forced to sell more of his library to raise money, Bella got angry. “You’ve always said that books stand for the best hopes of men,” she said. “Those crooks in city hall shouldn’t be allowed to steal them from you!” And her own hopes for a career as lector faded with each book that was sold.
“I’m holding on to my favorite volumes, thanks to the pennies I’m earning from the column I’m writing for my friend at La Gaceta,” Grandfather said.
When Bella stopped by Mary’s that evening, she was surprised to see her friend wearing a turquoise necklace.
“From your father?” Bella asked.
Mary nodded. “It came this morning. I wasn’t supposed to unwrap it until Christmas, but Mama let me.”
“Things must be going well at Hoover Dam.”
“It’s so cold the workers have to build fires to keep from freezing. But no one’s dying of heatstroke like they did last summer.”
“I’d take the cold over a hundred and thirty-five degrees any day,” Bella said.
“Any news about Lola?”
“Grandfather’s lawyer keeps asking the court to set a trial date, but they refuse,” Bella said. “I brought her some Christmas cookies yesterday.”
“Did you tell your mother?”
“We went together this time. And we found that Lola already had company.”
“Her lawyer?” Mary asked.
“No,” Bella said. “Cesar Hidalgo.”
“The crazy cigar roller?”
“For once he was very polite. He’d brought her a cake.”
“How’d she look?”
“Not quite as thin as last time, but she’s still having trouble sleeping.”
“That lawyer has got to get her out.”
“That’s my Christmas wish,” Bella said.
On the morning of Noche Buena, Christmas Eve, Bella told the children a funny story about a Santa who dressed in black and traveled all over the world looking for bad boys and girls. When he found one he would swoop down and stick the child in his sack.
“I’ll bet the black Santa is coming for Pedro tonight,” Juanita said.
Pedro spent the afternoon tying cardboard reindeer antlers on Rocinante and hitching her to a wagon he labeled THE SANTA EXPRESS. Then he gave rides to all the children in the neighborhood. He made Julio a little kite, and Julio sat on Juanita’s lap, holding the string tightly as Rocinante pulled the wagon up and down the street.
Grandfather surprised everyone by bringing a Serrano ham for their meal. Mama chided him for spending so much, but she looked happy as she sliced the ham thin and served it with small round potatoes. Dessert was espresso coffee, and the adults, along with Bella, sampled some sidra, a famous Asturian cider.
Later, when the bagpiper marched through town, Isabel said, “The piper was Tía Lola’s favorite part of Christmas.”
“Don’t make me cry,” Juanita said.
After the meal, Grandfather sat back in his chair. “Such fine fare reminds me of my first Christmas in Ybor.”
“Wasn’t the city all swamps and alligators back then?” Pedro asked as he and Isabel looked up from their dominoes game.
“Belicia and I had nothing, yet we had everything.”
“How can that be?” Isabel asked.
“After a year of fighting mud and mosquitoes and yellow fever, good fortune came our way in December of 1886. Everyone was so discouraged that they were thinking of leaving town, but Vicente Ybor and his wife invited all the workers to their house for Christmas Eve. He said there would be a surprise.
“Noche Buena came at last. The guests arrived to find long tables set on the lawn in front of Ybor’s mansion. Candles flickered, and Japanese lanterns swayed in the breeze. The tables sagged with jugs of wine and platters of roast pig, turkey, red snapper, and chicken. Then the servants carried out dishes heaped with yellow rice, black beans, yucca, and roasted potatoes. And a dessert table was piled with turrónes, walnuts, pecans, figs, grapes, watermelons, cantaloupes, and baked goods.”
“So much,” Juanita whispered.
“After the meal Ybor brought out a big box. He thanked everyone for their dedication. Then he announced his Christmas gift: ‘In this box I have the profits from the past year. Each person who has worked at my factory will get an equal share. Let us enjoy Noche Buena as a family and pray for a prosperous New Year.’
“This was no small present, as everyone got a month’s worth of wages. After a moment of shock, the workers cheered.”
Mama shook her head. “How much the factory owners have changed!”
“We must hope that Aunt Lola returns to us soon. Soon!” Grandfather said.
“The finest gift,” Bella nodded.
“Speaking of gifts,” Grandfather said, “I met a man in a red suit earlier today.” He walked down the front porch steps.
“You saw Santa?” Juanita leaned over the railing.
“Santa!” Julio clapped his hands.
“He introduced himself as Señor Santa Claus and told me that he’d left some presents.” Grandfather reached behind the palmetto and drew out a pillowcase.
Back inside the parlor, he pulled out a paper sack and handed it to Mama. “This is for the whole family from Santa.”
She peeked inside. “Roasted chestnuts. How did Santa know this is our favorite Christmas treat?”
“Hooray!” the children shouted, and Julio ran in a circle.
Next Grandfather handed each of the children a small package wrapped in newspaper and tied with a red yarn bow.
Bella asked, “You haven’t sold more of your books?”
Grandfather lifted Julio onto his knee. “Why not, if the little ones can derive a bit of pleasure from the proceeds? My books are dead and dust.”
“Don’t talk that way,” Bella said. “Your books have inspired more people than you can count.”
“And I’ll bet you’d like to borrow some of them when you start
your career as La Lectura?”
“I want to be El Lector just like you.”
“Ah!” Grandfather smiled. “ ’Tis the season for wishing and dreaming.”
CHAPTER 26
Stone Soup
By January Bella feared that she’d made a mistake by not returning to the factory. The number of cigar jobs in Ybor was at an all-time low, and fewer workers meant fewer laundry orders for Mama. Bella looked for another job, but men with families got the first chance at openings. And everything paid less than the dollar a day she’d earned as a despalilladora.
Many evenings there was nothing to eat but warmed-over coffee and dry bread. Mama saved money by buying bruised fruit at Cannella’s and serving tiny portions of rice and beans. She even used the same coffee grounds three days in a row. At every meal she always took the smallest serving for herself.
The hardest thing was living so close to the giant brick ovens of Ferlita’s Bakery. “I wish there was some way to make that fresh bread smell go away,” Isabel said.
“It makes me so hungry,” Juanita said. “I feel like running over there and grabbing a loaf off the counter.”
One night when Bella was cutting a few thin slices of bread to serve for supper, she caught a spicy smell coming from the Navarros’ kitchen. “Mrs. Navarro must be frying chorizo sausages,” Bella said.
Mama suddenly set a pot of water on the stove and clapped a lid on top. When the lid began to clatter, she said, “Open the window, Bella.”
“It’s cold outside.” Steam had already formed on the inside of the glass.
“Do as I say.”
As Bella lifted the window, Mama said in an extra-loud voice, “We will have a fine kettle of soup this evening.”
Was Mama going crazy? There wasn’t so much as a carrot or potato to throw in the pot. Then Bella heard the sausages sizzling on Mrs. Navarro’s stove.
Mama’s lips locked in a tight whisper. “I’m not about to let that woman know what the Lorente household has come to.”
As firm as Mama’s voice sounded, she began to cry.
“It’s not your fault,” Bella said, reaching out to hug her. “I should have swallowed my pride and kept my job.”
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