The Red Umbrella

by Christina Gonzalez

  Mejor precaver que tener que lamentar. Same thing Mamá used to say. It was like a mother’s unwritten motto.

  I looked down at my hands. Mrs. Baxter and I had painted our nails berry pink a few days before, and for the first time, I didn’t cry remembering the scene at the park. I’m stronger now, I thought.

  “Oh yes … hold on.” Mrs. Baxter motioned for me to come inside. “She’s here. Un momento.”

  Un momento? Why was she speaking in Spanish? We hadn’t placed a call to Cuba.

  Mrs. Baxter held out the phone. “Lucía, it’s your mother.”

  I quickly grabbed it, my heart racing. Mamá had never phoned us. It was almost impossible to make that type of call from Cuba, especially now that Papá wasn’t working.

  “Mamá?” I held my breath.

  “Sí, Lucía. Soy yo. Mi hija, I only have a minute, but your father and I need to tell you something.”

  “¿Qué?” It had to be bad for her to call. I felt like I should be sitting down.

  “My exit visa was approved this morning. I was told I have seven days to leave the country or I have to stay indefinitely.”

  I wanted to do a little dance. My parents were coming. Finally, after almost a year, I’d get to see them again. “Mamá, that’s great! Can you and Papá get plane tickets? Do you need money? I have some saved up.”

  “No, that’s not it. I mean, yes, we will need some money, but it’s just … it’s just …”

  “What?” I asked.

  “My visa got approved, but they won’t approve your father’s.”

  Everything around me stopped. The clock ticking in the hallway, the crackling on the phone line, the sound of the wind blowing through the open front door. I was in a soundless tunnel.

  “Lucía? Lucía, are you still there?”

  I slowly nodded.

  I heard Mamá talking to someone else. “I think she hung up.”

  Papá came on the line. “Lucía Margarita Álvarez, ¡habla!” Papá’s voice snapped me out of my daze.

  “I’m here, I’m here.”

  “Oh, Lucy, listen, your mother doesn’t want to go. I’ve already told her that I will not have her stay here. She needs to be with you and Frankie.”

  “But, Papá, what about you? You’re not even well yet. Mamá says you can barely walk on that leg.”

  “I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry. I will get to my family. It may not be as quick as I like, but I’ll get there. I love you, Lucy. Now talk to your mother.”

  Before I could respond, Mamá was back on the line. She was crying.

  “Lucía, I don’t know. If your father makes me go …” She sighed. “Well, I was thinking we’d live in Miami to be closer to Cuba and other exiles, but it seems like you have friends there in Nebraska.”

  I’d go anywhere to be with my parents, but I had already started a life in Grand Island. “Mamá, come here. We’ll figure things out.”

  “But your father.” Mamá’s breathing was heavy. “You know they’re doing this on purpose. First separating us from you and your brother, and now making me choose between my husband and my children. They want to destroy the family so that the only thing people have left is this stupid revolution. ¡Los odio! ¡A todos! I hate them all!”

  I tried to stay calm. She was right. They were doing this to make life difficult for those who didn’t love the revolution above all else. “Mamá, fly to Nebraska. Trust Papá. He’ll get to us. But you have to come. They may never let you out again.”

  “I know, I know.” She sounded like a little girl.

  “I’ll take care of everything. You’ll see.”

  “Está bien. I love you, Lucía. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  My heart was breaking. I wanted both my parents to come over, but more than that, I knew how afraid Mamá must be at the thought of leaving Papá behind. “Te quiero, Mamá. Give Papá a kiss for me.”

  I slowly hung up the phone and looked up at Mrs. Baxter’s expectant eyes.

  “My mother is allowed to leave, but not my father.”

  “Oh, Lucía!” Mrs. Baxter opened her arms.

  I didn’t hesitate. I ran straight into them, and then we both cried.

  Chapter 37

  CUBA SLIPS AWAY FROM EXILES’ DREAMS

  —THE CAPITAL, APRIL 2, 1962

  It had been a week since Mamá had called, and the Baxters and I had not stopped making plans. First, Mrs. Baxter persuaded her friend Gladys to let Mamá and us stay in the guest cottage behind her house. Mrs. Baxter explained that Gladys’s daughter had used it as an art studio before moving to New York, but that now it sat empty. Plus, while visiting Gladys, she’d get to see us, too.

  Then the parishioners at St. Mary’s pitched in, donating items to furnish the cottage. We got everything from a frying pan to a small sofa. Mr. Baxter picked everything up, and before you knew it, we had the place looking pretty nice.

  Mrs. Baxter even got her brother to hire Mamá to help count inventory on the weekends. It wasn’t the life we used to have, but that life didn’t exist in Cuba, either.

  “I wish Papá could come, too,” Frankie said, smoothing back his greased hair.

  “I know, but it’s really not up to him.” I gazed at the large airport clock. Mamá’s flight was due to arrive in about five minutes.

  Five minutes. Three hundred seconds. Why did the clock’s second hand have to move so slowly?

  “She’s going to be amazed at how much you’ve both grown. I simply can’t wait to meet her. Lucía, do you think I look all right? I want to make a good impression.” Mrs. Baxter adjusted her skirt.

  “You look fine, Helen,” Mr. Baxter answered for me. “The girl has other things on her mind.”

  I smiled. “She’ll love you, but not because of anything you could wear.”

  She squeezed my arm. “I’m going to miss you so much, Lucía. I’ll be visiting Gladys now more than ever.”

  “Poor Gladys,” Mr. Baxter muttered as he adjusted his tie.

  Frankie laughed and I jabbed him in the ribs.

  “Look.” Mrs. Baxter pointed to a sign over the airline counter. Flight 24 from Chicago had just arrived. Mamá was here!

  I smoothed the wrinkles in my dress. We were all wearing our very best clothes, but I was worried about what Mamá would think when she saw us. Frankie had grown about three inches, but he still looked more or less the same. I, on the other hand, was different.

  Not only had my appearance changed with my new haircut, makeup, and growing curves, but I felt different inside. Somewhere between that plane ride out of Cuba and the drive to Lincoln to pick up Mamá, I had grown up.

  Mamá’s little girl wasn’t here, but would she like the new me? Maybe I shouldn’t have worn any makeup. But this was the new me. Yet if she saw me and didn’t approve, then what?

  I fidgeted with the buttons on my sweater.

  What would she think of the Baxters, Jennifer … even Eddie?

  The excited butterflies in my stomach turned on me. They were rising up to my throat. I felt like I was going to be sick.

  What if Mamá thought I’d abandoned everything she’d taught me? What if I disappointed her?

  Frankie pulled my arm. “Do you think Mamá will be upset that I love Mrs. Baxter?”

  Before I could answer, Mrs. Baxter took Frankie’s hand and inched forward. “Here we go,” she said.

  A stewardess opened two big doors, and a few people started to walk past us.

  “Flight twenty-four?” Mr. Baxter asked a passenger who stopped to buy a newspaper.

  The man nodded.

  Frankie clung to Mrs. Baxter’s waist as I tried to force my eyes to see farther through the crowd.

  “Frankie! Lucía!” a voice called out.

  It was Mamá.

  She was weaving between and around people, trying to get to us. Frankie darted toward her. She looked the same as the last time I’d seen her. I even recognized the dress she was wearing. In a moment she had d
ropped her purse and lifted Frankie off the ground, smothering him with kisses.

  Tears ran past my cheeks and down my neck. I felt as if I were moving in slow motion, every step bringing me only slightly closer to Mamá.

  What would she say? What would she think of me?

  Then I was in her arms. Mamá was crying and laughing at the same time. She kissed away my tears and looked at me. Really looked at me.

  I waited.

  She shook her head. “Ay, Lucía, you look so grownup! ¡Qué bella estás! You’ve become such a beautiful young lady!”

  “Mamá,” I cried, burying my head in her neck. “Ay, Mamá!”

  “I am so proud of you,” she whispered in my ear.

  Several people had gathered around us, watching the emotional reunion.

  Then from down the hallway, a flash of color caught my eye.

  Bright red.

  “Oh!” I gasped.

  It was Papá, looking older and more frail. He was walking with Mamá’s red umbrella as his cane.

  “Lucy! Frankie!” he shouted, hobbling his way to us.

  “Thank you, Lord!” Mrs. Baxter exclaimed.

  We let go of Mamá to devour Papá with hugs and kisses.

  “¿Cómo? How were you able to?” My brain was almost unable to accept that he was here.

  “I told you I’d find a way.” He smiled.

  I breathed in the familiar smells of his cologne and cigars. “But they wouldn’t give you a visa.”

  He dropped the umbrella and stroked my hair. “Details aren’t important. I have friends in the underground who helped me. Plus, some of those Cuban officers have a price.”

  There was no need to know any more. I didn’t care.

  As we all hugged, I caught a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Baxter wiping away their own tears. They were happy for us. Even Mr. Baxter was smiling.

  I bent down to pick up that beautiful red umbrella. Mamá was right. Red stood for strength. The strength of our family. We would start over in a new place and be just as strong as before.

  I smiled as Papá shook Mr. Baxter’s hand and Mamá gave Mrs. Baxter a hug.

  The Álvarez family was together again. All of us. Here, in our new country.

  I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  It was good to be home.

  Author’s Note

  The Red Umbrella is a fictional story based on very real events. From 1960 to 1962, the parents of over fourteen thousand Cuban children made the heart-wrenching decision to send their sons and daughters to the United States … alone. My parents and mother-in-law were among these children who were not only separated from their families but also separated from their country and culture.

  Since this story is part of my family history, much of my research began at home. Asking my parents questions and remembering all the stories I’d heard growing up was the first step. As I dug deeper, I realized that this was not just a personal story, it was also an important part of American history. In fact, this was the largest exodus of unaccompanied children ever in the history of the Western Hemisphere, yet there wasn’t much written about it, especially from the point of view of the children who experienced the upheaval. I wanted to change that.

  In The Red Umbrella, as in real life, families were torn apart and friendships broken because of the Cuban revolution of 1959. Throughout the book, readers can catch a glimpse of what was happening in Cuba by looking at the newspaper headlines that begin each chapter. But the reasons behind this exodus of children were much more complex than the headlines suggest.

  It all started with Fidel Castro’s rise to power in 1959. At first, many people believed in Castro and his promise to make life better for all Cubans. However, as the months passed, it became apparent that Castro meant to retain complete control of the country by any means necessary. This included stripping away the right to private property, barring free speech, censoring the press, and limiting religious freedom. As people voiced their concern about what was happening, the response from Castro’s Communist government was to label these people anti-revolutionary and to place them in jail or even execute them.

  It was during this time that a rumor began to circulate that Cuban children’s lives would be dictated by the government as well. The fact that some kids had already been sent to study in Russia added to the fear that soon all children would be removed from their parents’ homes to be indoctrinated in government boarding schools or in the Soviet Union. The loss of freedoms, the fear of persecution, and the idea of losing their children to the Communist government forced many parents into making a previously unthinkable decision.

  They would save their children by sending them to the United States.

  And so, in 1960, a plan was hatched to help Cuban children escape the Communist island. The plan required the secret transport of documents, an underground network, and the courageous actions of people in the United States and Cuba. For the next two years, Cuban children arrived in Miami, Florida, by the planeload in what would eventually be called Operation Pedro Pan.

  Many of these children had family or friends who picked them up once they arrived in Miami, but about half of the kids had no one. These temporarily orphaned children were placed by the Catholic Welfare Bureau with host families or in orphanages throughout the United States. It was there that these boys and girls waited to be reunited with their parents. Meanwhile, in Cuba, many parents were seeking exit visas to be able to leave their homeland and join their children in the United States. During this time, government institutions were being transformed by the Castro regime, and there was no standard as to whose visa would be granted. Approval was left to the whim of government officials, and so some parents resorted to using bribes and political influence to secure their freedom. Eventually, most parents were able to join their children in the United States after being separated for a period ranging from a few months to several years. However, a few weren’t as lucky and never saw their children again.

  As for my parents and mother-in-law, they were fortunate enough to be reunited with their families. They were able to live the American dream and, just like Lucía in the story, discovered that home is not a physical place but can be found wherever you have people who love and accept you.

  Acknowledgments

  First, I’d like to thank God for giving me a life so full of blessings, joy, and just enough difficulty to appreciate it all. I am truly grateful.

  Next, I’d like to give a special thank-you to my grandparents, who made the heartbreaking decision to send their children, alone, to the United States. Because of their foresight, our family has become part of the American dream. ¡Gracias, Abo, Abi, and Abicheli!

  In almost the same breath, I would like to thank my parents, who raised me with an appreciation for my Cuban heritage and a love for the USA. Your courage and strength as teenagers and your unyielding desire to make a better life in your adopted country are a constant source of pride for me. Thank you for your unwavering support and unconditional love. You are my heroes.

  I also want to thank my sister, who has always been my sounding board and best friend. I know I can always count on you.

  Thank you to my husband, who believes everything I write is perfect … even when it’s not. You fill my life with love and happiness. I am forever grateful that you encouraged me to follow my dreams.

  Thank you to my sons, who inspired me to pursue my passion for writing. You are my greatest joy and I am very lucky to be your mother. I hope this book reminds you of your family’s past as you follow your own destiny.

  Thank you to my mother-in-law, who shared her own experiences as a Pedro Pan child and whom I’m lucky enough to have in my life.

  For the world’s best brother-in-law, who “volunteered” to do my book trailer. You rock!

  To all my aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews … thank you for adding so much to my life. Comparisons to the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding do not do justice to the amazing, supportive, loud
, and crazy family that we are.

  There are also several people in the writing world whom I am fortunate enough to consider friends and who helped make this book a reality.

  Beginning with my amazing editor, Nancy Siscoe, who saw the potential of this book within the first ten pages and encouraged me to finish it ASAP. Thank you for all your guidance and advice. You are the best!

  Thank you to author and task-keeper Danielle Joseph, who pushed me to finish this book by checking on my progress with her nightly e-mails.

  Special thanks to all my SCBWI friends and especially my critique group partners: Adrienne Sylver, Linda Bernfeld, Gaby Triana, Liz Trotta, Mary Thorp, Marta Magellan, Tere Starr, Ruth Vander Zee, Marjetta Geerling, Michelle Delisle, Kerry Cerra, Mindy Alyse Weiss, Mindy Dolandis, and my mentor, Joyce Sweeney. The advice and feedback I receive from all of you has shaped my writing, and I know that I am a better writer because of it.

  To the star of my book trailer, Stephanie Freire, and the supporting cast members, Gaby Reyes, Madeleine Saade, Emily Ferradaz, Adriana Perez-Siam, Lauren Medina, Aliana Zamorano, Michael Schnabel, Derek Diaz, Frank Sancho, Martha Alcazar, Priscilla Valls, and Alison Wood Griñan … thank you all for adding a new dimension to the book!

  A big thank-you also goes to everyone who shared their knowledge of Cuba and Operation Pedro Pan with me, especially Jorge “Jay” Guarch, Jr., Lynn Guarch-Pardo, Frank Angones, and Dr. Brian Latell.

  Finally, to everyone at the Knopf/Random House family who worked on all the different phases of this book … thank you so much for helping make The Red Umbrella possible.

  Spanish words and phrases used in The Red Umbrella

  a mí no me gusta eso (ah mee noh meh GOO-stah EH-soh): I don’t like that

  abuela (ah-BWEH-lah): grandmother

  adiós (ah-dee-OHS): good-bye