The Fountains of Silence(73)

“Well, we didn’t open it. It sort of . . . broke,” says Rafa. “When Fuga saw it was empty, he exploded. He often says that the infant caskets feel too light, but I never paid much attention.”

“Caskets? There have been others?”

“Ay, many infant coffins. They brought another one yesterday.”

“Who brings them?”

“Fuga says the clinics. I’m generally at the slaughterhouse when they arrive.”

Antonio limps across the dirt floor of the shack. Rafa’s knee bobs as if powered by its own interior motor. Should he have told Antonio? He needs to keep Fuga focused. He thought perhaps Antonio would have suggestions.

“Fuga insists we must do something about the empty coffins. It’s distracting him and that’s dangerous. A distracted bullfighter ends up gored.”

“What does he think is happening?” asks Antonio.

“The ‘brothers’ who ran the boys’ home in Barcelona always told Fuga he was worthless, that if he was an infant they’d at least be able to sell him to Franco. He thinks babies born to Republican or poor families are being stolen, that the Church wants the children redeemed and raised by Francoists. Ay, I need him to forget about the cemetery and the coffins. We finally have a promoter interested.”

Antonio shakes his head. “Fuga’s not sidetracked. He’s engaging more deeply. You speak often of Fuga’s dedication to children. You say he goes hungry, he gives his own food away. This is what propels him. He’s fighting not for himself, but for others.”

Maybe Antonio is right. Could this be Fuga’s approach to fear? Fuga fears nothing for himself but wants to be the protector of others.

Antonio stops pacing. His expression softens, untangled by an idea. “The Texano and his camera. He’s taking pictures back to America.”

“So?”

“Images are powerful. They convey truth. Why do you think our media is censored? Ask the eager Texano to come and take photographs at the cemetery. He’ll have record of what’s happening. That may calm Fuga.”

“Ay, no. Talk of the Texano does not calm Fuga. It angers him. If I bring the Texano to the cemetery, Fuga may want to fight him. It’s all such a mess.”

“But the way you describe Fuga, he doesn’t look to fight. He looks to defend.”

Rafa thinks on Antonio’s words and Fuga’s recent behavior. Immediately following the capea, Fuga gave his winnings to Ana. Initially, he thought that meant Fuga had feelings for Ana. But does it mean he thinks she needs protection—protection that money can provide? Rafa scratches the back of his neck. Does Fuga see something dangerous around his sister that he missed? Something about the Texano?

Antonio tucks in his shirt. “I have to leave for work,” he says. “But, por favor, Rafa. Do not tell Julia about the empty coffins. Promise me.”

“Ay, do you think I’m crazy? I would never tell Julia.”





94



Bringing American commerce to Spain will help the Spanish people. That’s what Van Dorn said.

Franco’s an architect. There is a dark side here. That’s what Ben said.

Which is true? And whose side is his father on? Daniel wonders as he and his dad arrive back at the hotel.

His mother waits in the lobby wearing a blend of haute couture and apprehension. Her face brightens when she sees her husband and son.

“I didn’t expect to see you together,” she says.

“Nor did I,” says his father.

“Ben Stahl needed a photographer,” explains Daniel.

“And he chose you? Daniel, how wonderful!” She means it. Despite his father’s disinterest, his mother has always supported his photography. She then lowers her voice and his parents speak below their breath. “So, how did it go?”

“Swifter than I imagined. We signed.”

“It’s done?” his mother gasps. “How marvelous!”

“Yes. Installation dates for the equipment must be arranged, but at this point, that’s just a technicality.”

His parents are clearly thrilled. But . . . marvelous. Is it really? Daniel questions.

His father smiles at his mother. “You look lovely. Ready to go?”

Carlitos appears at their side. “Hola, Se?or Matheson. I have some messages for you.”

Daniel’s father extends his hand.

“No, not for you, se?or, for your son.” Carlitos hands a few message slips to Daniel.

“My, my, you’re popular,” says his mother. “Who are they from?”

Daniel folds the messages and puts them in his pocket without looking at them.

“Aren’t you going to read them?” presses his mother.

“Ay, he knows they’re from the owner of the camera shop,” says Carlitos. “Se?or is consumed with photography. Pictures, pictures, and more pictures.”

Daniel nods to the boy in silent gratitude. “Shall we have lunch?” he asks his parents.

“Oh, I’m sorry, cari?o. Your father and I have an engagement. We’ll be back soon.” His mother gives his hand a squeeze. “I can’t wait to see your photos from this morning.”

His parents depart and Daniel tips Carlitos. “Thanks, Buttons.”