She tied the sleeves of Buelo’s sweater together at the cuffs, slipped her head through the loop, and stretched the hem around her, tying the corners in a knot behind her back and fashioning a snug sling across her chest. She tucked the kitten inside.
How did she know to do such a thing?
They left the tower and descended single file down the steep, narrow path to the river, hidden between thick foliage and bottlebrush. The muddy ground sucked at their shoes. Max glanced back at Isadora, who had already dropped behind. She had tucked her left arm into the sling, probably to pet the kitten, and used her right hand to grab branches to steady herself. He hoped she wouldn’t slow him down.
When they reached the flat banks along the river, they walked north until the spire of Our Lady of Sorrows was only a speck in the distance. In the land of a hundred bridges, there were now fewer and they were much farther apart.
Max was grateful that there were no signs they’d been followed and that the weather seemed content for now. Except for the birds, the only sounds were Isadora’s measured breathing, Lola’s panting, and an occasional meow.
As the day dragged on, Isadora lagged farther behind, and once stopped altogether to choose a pebble from a stream. Max darted back to collect her. If she made a habit of stopping, he might never get to the guardabarrera and back home in time for tryouts!
But she didn’t. After that, she kept up.
At last, by late afternoon, they came to a patch of dense privet bushes, exactly where Buelo had marked on the map. Max edged through them, holding branches aside for Isadora, until they reached a small protected spot next to the river. “We’ll stay here tonight.”
He spread their blankets on the ground, side by side. Then he retrieved water, put out some food for the animals, and handed Isadora a torta. He watched her pull tiny bits from the bread and ham, giving every other pinch to the kitten or Lola. “You should eat. You must be hungry and there’s plenty.”
Isadora shrugged. She sat on the blanket and looked upstream, rubbing her left wrist.
She still hadn’t said a word. Was she afraid of him?
“You need to eat,” he said gently, handing her more bread and ham. “So you can keep up your strength.”
She nibbled in silence, avoiding Max’s eyes.
The world around them slowly faded and turned the color of slate, until it was hard to tell where the river ended and the sky began.
In the calm of evening, Max’s earlier frustrations settled. Even at Isadora’s slow pace, they’d still made it to the safe spot before dark. No one appeared to be following them. And in two days’ time, they’d arrive at the guardabarrera’s cavern. Max could get his answers and head back home.
He sat across from Isadora. “I should tell you about the next guardian so you know what to expect.”
She leaned forward.
“I’ve never actually met her,” said Max. “But Buelo, my grandfather, told me all about her. I didn’t believe she was real. I always thought she was just a character in a fantastic bedtime story that Buelo liked to tell.” The shadows grew darker. Crickets began their songs. The slow slap of the water against the bank kept a rhythm.
Like the tinkling of glass chimes, Isadora’s small voice carried. “I like stories.”
Max smiled in the darkness. “Me too.”
Isadora took off the sweater sling, folded it for a pillow, and put her head down next to Lola’s. The kitten curled into a ball on her chest.
Max lay back on the blanket with his arms beneath his head. He imagined himself in the cottage with Buelo and could almost smell the dried rosemary in the firebox. “Far away and hidden, there is a secret bridge and a peculiar gatekeeper, a guardabarrera. Her name is Yadra. Some think she’s a troll or a witch. But don’t worry, it’s probably not true. Buelo met her and she served him tea in a china cup. So how could she be unkind?”
Max thought about all the years Buelo had told him the story, letting it sink into his being. Had he been preparing Max to be a guardian all this time?
“More,” she whispered.
“She lives beneath the bridge in a cavern. Buelo said it is very crowded because she collects so many things. You can go there if you lost something, but very few do …” He didn’t tell Isadora everything—he left out the part about holding tomorrow in the palm of your hand—but he continued with the legend until Isadora’s breathing deepened.
He pulled up the edge of the blanket, making a snug cocoon around her and the kitten. She looked even younger when she was sleeping.
Max was just about to settle himself when a branch cracked. Lola’s head popped up and her ears perked. Something thudded on the ground and twigs snapped. Max froze and held his breath. Then just as suddenly, the night was silent again.
He exhaled. It was probably an animal on a nightly forage. He’d slept outside many times with Papá and there were always night noises. This had to be a safe place to sleep, he assured himself. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been marked on the map.
A bright streak shot across the sky. Max could hear Chuy in his head. A shooting star! Quick, make a wish! It will come true.
A few weeks ago, Max would have wished to go to the fútbol clinic, or for a pair of Volantes, and to make the village team. Today his life was muddled. He wanted to meet his mother and show her that he was every bit a worthy boy. He wanted to return the compass and bring her home so Papá could stop looking and believe in happy endings again. And he wanted to retrieve proof that he was born.
If he couldn’t find his mother, he could still get Isadora to the next safe place and at least prove to Papá he was capable of doing things on his own. And if the guardabarrera thought him true of heart, maybe she would take him on the journey upriver so he might hold tomorrow in the palm of his hand.
Staring into the vast sky, he felt small and insignificant. Papá wouldn’t approve of wishing on a star, but Max crossed his fingers anyway. “I wish to know what will become of me and if the path I’m on is leading to a place I want to go.”
When Max woke, the blanket was empty, and Isadora and all of her things were gone.
Max jumped up, his heart pounding. “Isadora! Lola!” Frantically, he searched the camp.
He heard a bark and followed it through the privet bushes until he spotted them upstream at river’s edge. Isadora was picking wildflowers, with Lola and the kitten at her side.
He ran toward her. “Isadora, you can’t disappear like that without telling me!”
Her face fell and filled with dread. She dropped the flowers, picked up the kitten, and backed away from Max, her body cowering.
He held up his hands. “No. No. I’m … I’m not going to hurt you. I was worried. I didn’t know where you were.” He pointed to a tree stump. “Stay there and wait for me to pack up. Please!” He hadn’t meant to frighten her, but he couldn’t risk losing her.
Isadora lowered herself to the stump and sat stiffly. Lola stayed at her side and hung her head, as if she was being reprimanded. Max dashed back to camp.
As he hastily stuffed his backpack, he noticed a thread of smoke downriver along the bank. Judging from the distance, the camp was hours away. Still, the idea that someone could be following dropped like a sour stone in his stomach. The more distance he put between them and whomever was on the riverbank, the better. He quickly consulted the map and then rushed back to Isadora. “Let’s go.”
She fell in behind him and stayed close. As the morning wore on, she had only momentary lapses when she paused to watch dragonflies or collect a feather for her pocket.
The sun burned through the clouds, but for most of the day they were able to walk in the shade of oak trees bordering the bank. By late afternoon, they came to an enormous tree lying across a stream. They’d have to cross it to stay on course. Max climbed the end of the trunk and helped Isadora up.
But once on top, she drew back and froze, clutching the sling. She shook her head. “I … I can’t.”
Max sigh
ed. “It’s not that deep. You could probably even stand in the stream. And if you fall, I will jump in after you. So will Lola. Or you could swim. You do know how to swim, right?”
She nodded. “But I … I don’t like looking down.”
Impatient, he took her bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’re not that high up. Hold my hand.”
She gripped his fingers.
Slowly, they sidestepped toward the middle. But then she stopped.
“Keep going,” Max encouraged.
She stared into the water, taking huge breaths.
When she wobbled, he gripped her hand tighter. “Don’t look down! Look at me and take a step. You can do it.”
She shifted her eyes to his. He gently tugged her forward and they shuffled along the log, small step by small step. When they reached the other side, Isadora leaned against Max’s chest and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you.”
Max felt his face grow warm. Awkwardly, he patted her back. “See, you did it.”
Something tender spread through him. Isadora was so little, and she was trying so hard to be brave. He gave her a quick squeeze in return. “Come on. Let’s find where we’ll rest tonight.”
The sky was growing dusky when Max came upon the enclave of boulders that Buelo had marked on the map. He hiked behind the largest to where it hollowed. “Here,” he said, nodding. “This is the outcropping.”
Isadora spread out the blankets while Max collected water and fed the animals.
Lola scouted the rocks. The kitten stalked a lizard, which scurried away.
When Isadora settled on the blankets, Max handed her a jam sandwich.
She took a bite, then stared at the bread, and took another bite.
“You like fig jam?” said Max.
She gave him a wobbly smile. “My mother …” She stopped, her eyes filling.
Softly Max said, “Your mother used to make it?”
She nodded. “Every year. Then we gave a jar to each of the neighbors. My papi said the best gifts are the ones you make with your own hands. He liked to make things with wood.” She pulled the box from her pocket and traced the carving on the lid. “He made this. It’s our fig tree.”
Max chimed in, with the hope Isadora would keep sharing too. “Buelo has two sisters, Amelia and Mariana. They are my great aunts but more like grandmothers. Mariana has a fig tree, too, and I used to help her make jam. I peeled and smashed the figs. That was my favorite part. When it was time to cook, she brought a chair to the stove and let me stand on it.”
Isadora’s eyes brightened. “My mami did that, too.”
“Mariana put her hands over mine and we both held the wooden spoon and stirred the figs,” said Max. “The kitchen smelled warm and sugary …”
Isadora whispered. “Mamá tied my hair back …”
Her voice was so soft Max had to lean forward to hear.
“The steam made my hair all curly. Rosalina called me frizzy-head. Mamá put a little warm jam in a bowl and let me eat it.”
“Mariana did the same!” said Max, remembering the cozy kitchen, and how he’d carefully carried the glass jar of fig jam home to show Buelo and Papá.
The kitten proudly deposited the lizard’s tail on the blanket as an offering.
Max petted his head. “You’re a good hunter.” He looked at Isadora. “Did you name him?”
She nodded. “Churro. When my mami was a little girl, she had a cat this same color named Churro.”
He was the color of fried dough rolled in cinnamon and sugar. “It suits him,” said Max.
She lay down on the blanket with the kitten and rubbed her wrist.
“Isadora, did you hurt yourself?” he asked.
But she closed her eyes and didn’t answer.
Had he gripped her too tightly when they’d crossed the log earlier? He hoped not.
The sky grew dark, but the moon was out in force. Max waited until Isadora was asleep and climbed the large boulder, using the ones around it as stepping stones. From the flat top, he could see for miles. The water was shallower here and licked over the river rocks, sounding like a persistent rain.
His eyes swept across the horizon downriver and spotted the bright glow of a campfire.
Someone was following.
Max slept fitfully, dreaming of pursuers who stalked the banks with fire torches and guns.
Before the sun rose, his eyes flew open and he sat up, his breathing fast and shallow.
A light mist covered the river. The world was gray and quiet. It was early, but he was eager to get moving. He roused Isadora, and after sharing another jam sandwich, they were on the move. Max’s thoughts were on tomorrow, when they’d finally reach the guardabarrera. He walked quickly, and Isadora kept pace.
By noon, they arrived at a bridge and found the wing walls overrun with ripe blackberries. Max and Isadora fell upon them, stuffing their mouths and tossing handfuls to Lola. Soon, their bellies were full and their hands stained purple. Churro could not be convinced to eat even one.
Max and Isadora washed their hands and faces in the river. Lola bounded from beneath the bushes and joined them at the water’s edge.
“Ewww, Lola! What did you get into? You smell awful!” Max complained.
Isadora held her nose.
“She must have rolled in animal scat.” Max coughed and waved a hand in front of his face. They couldn’t keep going with her smelling like that.
He picked up a stick and threw it into the river away from the bridge. “Lola, go!”
Lola sprang into the water and landed with a splash, legs churning and head straining toward the floating stick. When she returned, Max threw the stick farther out. “Once more, Lola. Then you’ll be tolerable.”
Isadora giggled.
“She loves to swim,” said Max. “That’s why fishermen keep her breed on their boats. She will fetch anything in the water. I just have to give the command.”
A voice yelled from behind them, “You there! You children! Who’s that in the river?”
Max and Isadora spun around.
On the bridge’s deck, a man leaned over the capstones almost directly above them. He held a rifle. “I was parked in the shade eating my lunch and I heard a splash. Is everyone okay?”
Max noticed a battered green truck parked beneath a large oak on the other side of the bridge. His stomach wrenched. Why hadn’t he remembered to stay off the river? “It’s just our dog. She likes to swim,” called Max.
The man stared at them, then looked around. “What are you two doing out here?”
“We … we’re on our way to our aunt’s house,” said Max. “In Caruso.”
The man shook his head. “You must be lost. I’m from a village an hour north, and I’m heading to one another hour south, and that’s driving, not on foot. There’s nothing in between. Caruso is hours away, after you cross the next bridge and then due east.”
“We know the way,” called Max.
“Is that right?” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head as if questioning Max’s answer. “Well, I heard this morning that the police are looking for two missing girls,” said the man. “Big reward, too. Have you seen them?”
Isadora shrank behind Max.
“No,” said Max, shaking his head. “We haven’t seen anyone.”
The man rubbed his chin. “You two better come with me. It’s not safe to be wandering out here alone. I’ll take you to the nearest police station. They can call your aunt to come get you.”
Lola ran onto the bank, dripping from the river and carrying the stick in her chops when she noticed the man. Her growl simmered. Max quickly clipped the leash to her collar and slipped on his backpack. He picked up Isadora’s bag and whispered, “Just follow me. Can you keep up?”
Isadora clutched the sling and nodded.
“Thank you,” called Max. “We’ll be right up.”
The man waved and walked toward the truck.
As soon as he turned his back, Max, Is
adora, and Lola darted through the bridge’s tunnel and along the opposite bank.
They could hear the man yelling, “Wait! Stop! I’m reporting you!”
But they never looked back. They ran until they were gulping air.
Max scrambled up a steep hill to the top of the ridge, Lola panting at his side. Isadora struggled after them, slipping on the loose rocks every few steps and once falling to her knees when a foothold gave way.
Max helped her over the top, where they crouched to catch their breath.
Isadora’s dress was torn, her legs were scraped, and her entire body shook. She clung to his arm.
Gathering his courage, Max peeked over the crest, hoping he wouldn’t be looking down the barrel of a rifle.
The truck sped down the bridge road, away from them.
“He’s gone.” Max felt the tension seep from his body.
Tears spilled down Isadora’s dusty cheeks, leaving muddy tracks. “I can’t go back … I can’t …”
“Listen. It’s going to take that man at least an hour to get to the next village. He will need time to talk to the police. Then it would take another hour to return to this spot. That’s two hours, probably more. We’ll be far upriver by then. And at the hidden bridge tomorrow morning. But we have to get moving.”
Isadora’s sobs seemed to root her in place.
How did Chuy console his sisters? Sometimes he bribed them with ice cream or candy, or told them a joke, or promised to show them something they’d never seen before.
“Arrorró. Arrorró. Shhh. Shhhh,” said Max. “You know, Isadora, I want to get to the next safe place, too. And do you know why? Because I have a big secret.”
He held out a hand and she took it, letting him help her up. “Let’s walk, and I will tell you something I’ve never told anyone before.”
She took a shaky breath. “Not even your best friend?”
Max shook his head. “Not even my best friend. Do you want me to tell you about him?”
Mañanaland Page 8