"Then we move on," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, and then added softly, "Your American president can't keep this up forever."
"I wish you'd stop calling her my president--I'm no longer an American citizen! Besides, that's what you said about Carlotta, and now she owns the entire opera company!" I hissed back, still bitter at her treatment of me and my former co-workers.
"Carlotta's a different woman altogether! At least she has friends in high places to help her out," Erik replied as he drew me closer to him, and then added, "President R. alienated forty-nine per cent of the American voters immediately upon her election, and has lost even more support since the election, undoing the good will the previous president tried to do. I overheard a gentleman in the WC saying that once she was elected, almost ninety per cent of the active duty military officers resigned their commissions and almost half of the enlisted military personnel left after completing their enlistments, thus leaving the American military dangerously undermanned, rather than serve under her command, for they are very mindful of her attitude toward the military. Now, she has to depend upon the European Union and its armed forces to keep the American people in line, particularly the ones living in the so-called 'fly-over country'. And now, she has lost the support of many in the minority communities when she imprisoned several members of the previous president's cabinet. And now, her most recent move to depopulate America's heartland, in revenge for voting for her opposition, is meeting a lot of resistance from the locals. Frankly, I think she's got her hands full as it is, so I don't think she'll bother with individual pro-lifers like you. You never threatened her directly, nor did you support those who did, so she has no reason to go after individuals like you." As I snuggled in Erik's arms, I thought to myself, I hope you're right this time, Erik, but she has the same habit that Carlotta has-of persecuting in spurts! I just hope we can find sanctuary before she finds out where I've gone! While holding me in his arms, Erik began to hum softly, and I found myself falling asleep as I listened to his still strong baritone voice humming first one French lullaby and then another.
We finally reached Avila at about three in the afternoon on that late November day. I ended up sleeping most of the way, so I have no idea what the scenery looked like, or even if Erik slept as well. I finally awoke just as the bus was descending one of the hills just north of the city, so my first impressions of the city was that of an ancient medieval walled city, and the words of the great Reformation hymn came to mind-a mighty fortress is our God. I then became excited and hoped, in my eagerness, to explore the same city that my favorite childhood saints lived in, and walk the same streets that St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross had trod in their lifetimes. However, my hopes were soon dashed, for the bus was stopped at the city gate by the Spanish police, just before it could enter the city. After the bus pulled over to the right side of the road to allow the traffic behind it to pass, a Spanish police officer boarded the bus and announced, first in Spanish and then in English, "Ladies and gentlemen, the city of Avila is forced to deny you sanctuary, due to the large numbers of refugees that are making their way here to the city."
At that point, the Franciscan priest rose from his seat and said, in English, "But officer, most of these people have come from far away and were promised sanctuary by the authorities, first at Burgos, and then at Avila! What are they to do now?"
"I'm sorry, Father, but I have my orders. The bus will have to go back to Burgos. My only other suggestions would be to try the city of Zaragoza, or maybe even Portugal. All I know, is that Avila has no more room for refugees," the police officer replied, before he then asked those of us who wanted to try our luck with Portugal to leave the bus.
About half of the passengers decided to leave, including Erik and I, and after we got our backpacks from the storage area of the bus, I turned to Erik and asked, "What now?"
"The first thing we do is ask if we can at least enter the city to do some much needed shopping, and then we'll hit the road again. Don't worry, I still have enough Euros left to get you some more clothes and some more food before we resume our journey." He replied as we than went to one of the police officers that was directing traffic around the bus, and asked for permission to enter the city to do our shopping. Surprisingly, we were allowed to enter the city, but with the stipulation that we finish our shopping and leave the city within two hours. We agreed, and in less than two hours we emerged from the city gate with our purchases and wearing civilian clothes under our BDU jackets. We then circled south of the city and continued in a southwesterly direction on foot, taking the road that led to the city of Plesencia.
As we walked down the right side of the road to keep out of traffic, I said softly, more to myself than anything, "I suppose we'll have to avoid the villages here as well."
Erik nodded and said, "Yes, but because of the mountains, we should be able to keep away from the authorities as well. I, too, was hoping we could have been granted refuge at Avila, but because we were refused, I now distrust the Spanish. I was hoping that they would be charitable enough to take us in, but I can understand their position-they don't have the resources or the infrastructure to take in more than a few refugees."
"So, where do we go now?" I asked as we trudged along the road, which was now slick from the light rain that was falling.
"Well, the police officer mentioned Portugal. Now that your NATO has been disbanded because of the military blunders it made in Kosovo, Portugal is no longer part of NATO, but neither is she part of the European Union. She still has her own currency instead of the Euro-the escudo, so she may be our best hope," he answered and then added, "There may be another reason as well."
"What's that?" I asked as we stepped off the road to avoid the spray
from the road as a large truck drove by us.
"I was just thinking of the first words to the third secret of Fatima-you
know, the one given to Sr. Lucia that was released back in the fifties-In
Portugal, the dogma of the Faith will always be preserved...You know, it's
amazing what comes to mind in a situation like this! I had forgotten
most of my Church history as well as Church teachings until just now."
he said as yet another truck passed us on the road, keeping us off the
road and out of the spray. I nodded as well, hopeful that he would
be right about our destination, and trying not to remember the rest of
the third secret, which had been released to the public over two years
earlier. In spite of my efforts though, the rest of the secret came
to mind-the angel calling out the word 'penance!', the priest in white
being shot down by military personnel, as well as the hint from the first
words of the secret that not all nations would keep the dogma of the Catholic
faith. Well, we Americans sure haven't done much to keep the Faith!
One cardinal has already approved of a liturgy that blesses homosexual
'marriages', as well as having already ordained several women to the priesthood
in direct defiance of the pope, and other bishops have had Church property
confiscated by President R. because the bishops wouldn't be politically
correct and rescind the excummunications of her pro-choice Catholic politicians
friends! I hope Erik's right that we can find sanctuary this time
because we really can't go anywhere else!
As it began to grow dark, Erik led us to a heavily wooded spot just off the road and just east of the city of Plasencia, and then indicated that we would be spending yet another night out in the open. He found a spot for us to rest, and I found myself sitting up with my back yet against another tree, not far from some shrubs. Just as we had gotten ourselves settled in for the night with Erik's sleeping bag draped over us, we began to hear voices and then saw a light from somebody's flashlight cut through the gloom of the night. Erik then grabbed me and after rolling onto the ground, pulled me on top of him and began to kiss me passionately. Just then, a voice called out and said something in Spanish. He stopped kissing me long enough to whisper, "Keep your head on my shoulder and don't turn around!" Then, speaking more loudly, he said something in Spanish to our unexpected guests who, after replying to Erik in Spanish, soon departed.
Erik held me where I lay for a few more minutes before releasing me, and then exclaimed, "That was close!" Then, more quietly, he added, "Thank you for your cooperation. Who would have thought we would have to use the same trick that your martyred priest Padre Pio used in Mexico almost a hundred years ago to escape his enemies?! And, may I add, that that was good acting on your part!"
"What was that all about?" I asked, as I rolled off of him, and then sat up against the tree.
"My dear, it seems that our pursuers are still on our-your trail. Those men were members of the Spanish military that are looking for you on orders of the Spanish government and your President R., but I think our-my little ruse fooled them. After all, they only came across a pair of lovers in a tryst!" he exclaimed, and then chuckled before he added, "And the authorities still think you're traveling alone! Well, what they don't know won't hurt them any!"
"So what do we do?" I asked, uneasy about the turn of events and yet uncertain as to what our next move should be.
"For right now, nothing. We spend the night here as we planned and then leave at first light tomorrow. And if our 'friends' return, we'll just act like a pair of lovers should act. Now, aren't you glad I dyed your hair and got some other clothing for you, even though the extra clothes load down your backpack? You looked very nice in that skirt but, with the route we're taking, those black slacks I bought for you back in Avila will probably be more practical. And then, with these camouflage jackets, we both look like a couple of aging American hippies! Well, what ever works at a time like this..." he replied and then added, "But now that the excitement's over, we both need to rest, for it will be another long day on the road."
It was indeed yet another day of going cross-country and taking the side roads only when necessary. We circled around more villages and went through more fields than I could count, and finally after taking yet another side road so we could cross one of the many reservoirs in western Spain, we managed to slip across the border into Portugal.
Unfortunately, we were unable to do so undetected. Just as we started down yet another side road, a police car came from behind with its siren blaring and its lights on. We stopped where we were and after the police officer got out of his car, he demanded something in Portuguese. Since neither one of us spoke the language, we had no idea what he wanted. Finally, Erik asked in English, "What is it you want, officer?"
The police officer then replied, "English?"
"No, American," I corrected him and then added, "And we both want asylum." Realizing that this was a situation he was unable to cope with, he indicated that we were to ride in his car until we got to the largest town in the area, which was Castelo Branco. Even though we were both extremely nervous, we did as the officer demanded, and when we reached the police station at Castelo Branco, we followed the officer into the building and to an office where he demanded that we wait until an English-speaking police officer could be found.
"Are you sure it was a good idea to tell him you're American?" Erik
asked, as we waited in the small office.
"I didn't know what else to say. Besides, if you're right, we'll
be officially given asylum, which means we'll be able to move more freely
around the country. And if you're wrong, it won't matter where we
try to go," I replied, exhausted from yet another day's journey.
Just then, a thin man with swarthy skin, dressed in civilian clothes
entered the room, and said, "You'll have to forgive my officer, miss.
We've had so many Americans slip across our border with Spain that my men
feel that they are being overworked for the thankless job of turning back
refugees, all of whom deserve asylum.:"
"And will we be granted asylum?" Erik asked.
"That depends, sir. Neither of you has any identification papers on you and that can complicate things," the officer replied to Erik and then, turning to me, he said, "If you'll give me your name, we can request papers from the American consul here in town..."
"Sir, I'm no longer an American citizen. When President R. stripped us expatriates of our citizenship, I applied for, and was granted French citizenship," I replied, even more nervous than ever, for if I was no longer safe in my adopted country, where was I safe?
"That complicates things further! I'll have to contact the French consul in Coimbra for a copy of your papers. It's too bad you don't have a lawyer to help you out of this sticky mess!" he replied as he walked to the door of the room.
"Actually, we both do, but she's is Paris. Her name is Celeste Renard, but I'm afraid I don't know her telephone number," I replied, hoping that I could be helpful in this situation.
"But I do. It's area code..." Erik said and after giving out her phone number, added, "I'm sure she can give my friend the advise she needs if my friend is allowed to talk with Celeste. As for my identification papers, you'll find them in the back pocket of my backpack along with my other things."
"As you wish, sir. You stay here while my officer gets your papers,
and as for your friend, she can come to my office to make her phone call.
Miss, if you'll just follow me," the plainclothes police officer replied
and we left Erik with the other officer while we made our way down the
narrow hallway to another small office. The officer handling my case
then dialed the number Erik had given him and I soon found myself talking
with Celeste Renard.
"Roberta, where are you?! I've been trying to find you for almost
three months! Listen! I have some things to tell you, and none
of them are good! First, the bad news-your former husband was found
dead very close to the Spanish border four days ago. Just what he
was doing there no one knows. The authorities only know that he arrived
in France over seven weeks ago and that he was determined to find you!
The second piece of bad news I have to relate is that Erik left Vouvant
about the same time as your ex-husband's arrival in France, and no one's
seen him either! And the news is getting even worse, with the American
president determined to force France to give up all American expatriates,
even if they have become French citizens. In short, my dear, I feel
that you are in great danger if you stay in France!" she exclaimed.
"My God! Brad dead? But he was in Maryland, the last I heard!" I exclaimed.
"You haven't answered my question, Roberta. Where are you?" Celeste replied.
Still in shock at her news of Brad, I answered in a distracted manner,
"I'm in Portugal...don't ask me how I got here, just be glad I'm safe for
the moment." Then, gathering my wits about me and thinking about
my immediate situation, I added, in a firmer tone of voice, "Is there any
way you can send a copy of my citizenship papers to the police here at
Castelo Branco, or maybe even fax them? I've asked for asylum from
the Portuguese authorities but they need my papers in order to grant it,
and, the copies I had have been lost in my...trip to Portugal."
"Roberta, are you all right? No, of course you aren't!
What am I thinking? Yes, I'll fax them right now. Just give
me the fax number, but are you sure I'm not doing this for nothing?
The American president has made it very clear that she'll stop at nothing
to extradite all American expatriates! she replied.
Running my fingers through my now short but quite dirty hair, I replied in an uneasy tone of voice, "I don't know what more she could do? If she tries to use any force, she's likely to spark an international incident, and she doesn't have the support here in Europe that her former husband had, and besides, how could she use force right now? She doesn't have the troop strength to back up any seizures of expatriates and the ATF doesn't have the manpower or the authority for any more seizures like that of Elian Gonzales a few years ago. Thank God her predecessor had the good sense to at least try and disarm that organization when he had the chance to do so! No, I think I'm safe for now."
"Very well, then. I'll fax a copy of your papers, just give me the number. And, do you have a place to stay there in Portugal, just in case I need to mail anything else?" she asked.
"No, I just got here, and I don't have a place to stay just yet. By the way, here's the fax number..." I replied as the officer handed me the fax number that was written down on a piece of paper. I then ended the conversation with Celeste, and waited while the officer left the room for a few minutes, presumably to wait for my papers to be faxed. He returned with a handful of papers a few minutes later and, after reading them silently for a few minutes, said, "According to these papers, you are a Madame Roberta Martin, nee Boucher, born in St. Louis, Missouri, USA in July, 1960, married a Brad Martin in Denver, Colorado, USA in August, 1980, had a daughter named Jennifer in 1981 and a son Jason in 1983, was divorced in January of 2001, and moved to Paris in September of 2001, and last employed at the Paris Opera House as a seamstress/costumer, is this information all correct?" I nodded, and he then added, "I have your friend's papers with me as well. As soon as he joins us and I verify the information on his papers as well, I'll be attaching grants of asylum to both sets and you'll be free to go. But, I would advise you both not to leave the city for any reason just yet. It seems the American president is putting tremendous pressure on our government to extradite all Americans found in Portugal." Just then, a knock was heard on the door. "Enter!" he ordered, and Erik entered the office with another police officer. The plainclothes officer then verified the information in Erik's papers as well and after he granted Erik asylum as well, he said in an authoritative tone of voice, "Mr. Filipovic, may I offer you some advice? Watch your temper during your stay here, sir, or I think you'll find our Portuguese authorities much less sympathetic to domestic violence! Do I make myself clear, sir?" Erik nodded and blanched in spite of the shadow of anger I saw cross his face, and then the police officer added, "All the religious monasteries and convents in the area have opened their doors to American refugees lucky enough to be granted asylum, so here's a list of places you might try as well as a list of rooms that are rented out by many of our citizens. But, as I advised Mrs. Martin, I would strongly advise you both to stay in town for the moment, at least until the current political crisis is resolved. You're free to go, now." We both nodded, and then left the police station with copies of our identification papers and asylum grants safely tucked into our backpacks.
After we left the building, I asked, "Just how is it that you knew Celeste's phone number? And did you know about Brad trying to find me?" We stood outside for a moment while Erik took out the list of lodgings that were given to us, and examined it in silence for a moment before saying, "My dear, if you needed a lawyer for as many times as I once needed Celeste, you'd have your lawyer's phone number memorized as well! And, as for your former husband, I believe you Americans have the expression, 'ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies', so don't ask anything more about that man! If I must forsake my past, so must you!" he commanded, and then changing the tone of his voice, he added more gently, "Now, as to our immediate needs, I think we should find a place to get you some more clothes, especially more practical nightclothes, like a flannel nightgown considering the weather this time of year! That is, unless you plan on sleeping in your clothes again tonight!"
I shook my head and exclaimed, "Not really! I've had enough of sleeping in my clothes for awhile!"
"I thought you might be agreeable to my idea," he replied dryly, as we sought out the nearest women's clothing store.
An hour later, we were back on the streets, looking for a place to spend the night. After going down the list of rooms given to us and finding that each one was unavailable, Erik stopped us at a park where we ate a small meal of oranges, canned tuna, bread and water before resuming our search and still having no luck in finding lodging for the night. Finally, just as the sun was setting, we passed by the front of a music store. Erik stopped us while we looked into the large display window. It was the first time I had seen myself in a mirror in two days, and while I looked worn out, Erik looked positively haggard, for his make-up had worn off, which allowed the bruises to show, along with the lines on both sides of his prosthesis and in addition, a four-day growth of gray beard had formed, all of which only emphasized his fatigue and made him look even more unattractive. While he appeared to be looking at himself in the glass, I noticed that his attention shifted between the signs in the window and the grand piano which was on display in the middle of the store. Finally, he turned away from the window and said, "Since we've tried all of the rooms on that list and can't find anything available, let's try that convent that's at the top of the other list of places. Maybe the good sisters can spare a couple of rooms for some weary travelers." We made our way to the convent, which was on the north end of town, and the nuns did indeed have two extra rooms available, which also happened to be adjoining rooms.
Like almost all religious orders in the west, the convent had experienced
a decline in vocations during the last five decades, and in addition, found
it difficult to survive financially in the changing world economy, mostly
due to the depressed prices of farm commodities, especially wool which
the nuns had depended on in order to maintain their financial independence.
At one time, the nuns had raised sheep and were able to sell the wool to
the public as well as to other religious orders which used it to make religious
habits, but with the decline in wool prices on the market as well as the
decline in vocations to other religious orders as well, the nuns were forced
to find other means to keep their convent open. Only recently had
they decided to open up their convent to pilgrims on their way to the religious
shrine of Fatima. But, with the growing international crisis with
the States, the nuns were asked by the municipal authorities to open their
convent to refugees, and in their Christian charity, they agreed.
The nuns soon found their contemplative lifestyle interrupted by the
needs of the refugees, but, in spite of the chaos of the large number of
refugees who had found lodging there as well, Erik and I were able to get
some much needed rest. I was glad that we had been assigned adjoining
rooms, for I was worried about Erik. Tired though I was, he looked
far worse, and in the days since our journey began, he seemed to have actually
aged considerably. I was also glad that the walls between the two
rooms were very thin, for I could hear him snore softly through the night.
But, as for myself, I was unable to sleep very well that night, no doubt
due to all of the stress from our ordeal. I found myself constantly
waking up in the narrow cot the nuns provided for us, still fearful that
we would be found by the authorities.
Even though I had not slept well, I rose early the next morning, dressed, and after relieving myself in the restroom shared by all on our floor, I walked over to Erik's room to wake him up, and found that he had gone. At first I was puzzled since it was still quite early in the morning. I softly called out, "Erik?" as I knocked on his door.
"You lookin' for that weird guy in the mask?" a man with a southern accent asked. I nodded, and he added, "I saw him head out about sunrise this mornin'."
"Did he say where he was going or when he'd return?" I asked, still puzzled as to why Erik would leave without telling me where he was going.
The man in the hall shook his head and said, "Didn't say a word.
Why? Are you his girlfriend or somethin'?"
I shook my head and said softly, "No, just a friend." What else
could I possibly be? Erik's been a perfect gentleman ever since he
rescued me, except for when he kissed me last night, and I'm not so sure
that he meant to do anything but throw our pursuers off my trail, just
as he said! I thought as I waited for the southern gentleman to leave the
hallway before I tried the door to Erik's room. I found it unlocked,
so I entered his room, hoping to find him there after all. Instead,
I found the room unoccupied, although his bed did look as if it had been
slept in. I was about to exit the room when he appeared at his door,
silently, as always. "Still snooping, I see!" he said sarcastically
as he entered the room.
"Erik!" I exclaimed, in surprise at his sudden appearance as well as his sarcasm.
In a slightly angry tone of voice, he said, "I'm sorry, my dear, but when I awoke this morning, I found my blood sugar level was too high, and I've just spent the last two hours walking around town trying to lower it!" Then, after a short moment of silence, he added in a more civil tone of voice, "I need to test my blood sugar level right now, and while I would normally kick you out of my room so I could do this in private, I feel that you should probably stay here and watch while I do the test. Hopefully, you'll never have to do this on me should I be...unable to test my blood myself, but you may need to know how this is done." I then watched him take out a small box from his backpack and then removed the items he needed from the box and place them on his bed. Then he sat down on the edge of his bed just to the left of the items and looking at me said, "I have to prick my finger and smear the blood onto this test strip I have laying next to me, and after a few seconds, I have to compare the color of the spot where I put my blood with the graph that's on the back of this box to get the result of the blood test, and from that...well, I should then know what to do next. Please come and sit down beside me to my left, and don't let my blood bother you-the prick is only a small wound and normally heals fairly quickly. Besides, you look worse than I feel-didn't you sleep well last night?"
I walked over to his bed and sat where he indicated before saying, "Too wound up from our journey, and I guess I'm worried about you, too. I'm surprised that you're wearing your mask again because you didn't look too bad without it when we left Burgos. God, when was that, yesterday or the day before? This trip feels like the trip from hell!"
Erik chuckled a bit before he pricked his finger, and after he smeared the blood onto the test strip, he said, "My dear, you have the gift of understatement! Trip from hell is right! As for my mask, you probably noticed that the make-up I used doesn't last too long and it's usually easier for me to wear a mask than go to the trouble of putting make-up on all of the time, which I find to be more of a bother than shaving, which is enough of a bother as it is! And besides, as I'm sure that you have guessed by now, I would have been recognized long ago by Michel and Joseph, if I had not worn a mask, and would have been sent back to prison for breaking the terms of my parole. Getting back to the subject of our trip, I believe our journey is over for I overheard some of the refugees talking down in the convent's dining room this morning and they seemed optimistic that the Portuguese were standing firm against President R's demands. Now, just how they intend to stand firm, I don't know!" He stopped talking long enough to examine the test strip and then frowned before adding, "Now, I've overdone it with walking! My blood sugar level is too low! Would you hand me my backpack? It's down on the floor by your feet and over to your left. I've got a couple of oranges left from our shopping trip yesterday. Have you eaten yet?" I shook my head before retrieving his backpack and handing it to him. "Good! We can have breakfast together before facing the world!" he exclaimed as he opened the side pocket of his backpack and took out the oranges and then peeled one. After pulling it apart into two halves, he handed me one and then began to eat the other. After he finished eating it, he added, "There! That's exactly what I needed-I can think more clearly now!"
I nodded in agreement, for I too, felt a little more refreshed after eating only a little. "I feel better myself. Does food always revive you this quickly?" I asked, for Erik's disposition had transformed almost magically from that of a grouch to that of a civil gentleman.
He shrugged and then replied, "Sometimes, but it depends on how low my blood sugar actually is and how frequently I eat, and indeed, what I eat! Now, let me throw out all of our garbage we've accumulated during our trip, and let me go to the WC to shave before we get on with our day."
"So what are we going to do with ourselves, now that we're safe and have asylum?" I asked, more rhetorically than out of curiosity.
"Well, my dear, I've got some plans for us but they will have to remain a surprise for the time being. Why don't you change into that green skirt I bought you and we can take a walk? While you're doing that, I can shave and then I'll pack some bread and water for us, just in case my blood sugar level drops," he replied as he cleaned out all of the trash from his backpack and threw it into the room's wastebasket. I left his room to change clothes, and a few minutes later, met him back in his room where I found him cleaning out an electric razor. Seeing the look on my face, he explained, "It's a good thing this doesn't take up much room-it's a razor that can run on batteries, and it's perfect for men who like to go camping!"
Shaking my head, I replied, "I never pictured you as the outdoors type, Erik! Where did you got all of this stuff, anyway?"
"As you've probably surmised, my dear, I have always loved to shop, which I know is unusual for men, but you never know when you'll need things like we've needed and used on this little trip of ours!" he replied and then added, "Now, are we ready to go?"
I nodded, and we then left the convent for our day's events.
In less than a half an hour, we found ourselves standing in front of the same music store we had stood before the previous evening. As we stood, the owner came out to the front of the store and opened the store for the day's business. After we entered the store, Erik whispered to me, "Stay here by the door for a moment. I want to practice my English on this fellow." Seeing the look on my face, he added, "I'm sure that he speaks English because there's a small sign on the door saying 'English spoken here'!" I nodded for I remembered seeing the same sign just as we entered the store. Then, I watched Erik approach the proprietor and while I was unable to hear the conversation, I watched Erik as he talked with the owner, and finally gesture to me to join him at the grand piano that stood in the middle of the store. As I walked over to the piano, I noticed Erik go over to the display of music books on the wall next to the cash register, and after selecting a soft-covered book, he joined me at the piano. After he sat down at the piano, he leaned a little to his right, toward me and whispered, "We'll start with our usual warm-ups and then work on a song from this book."
"Sing here?! Right now?!" I whispered back, incredulous that he would actually ask me to sing in public, especially after our arduous trip.
"Yes, here and now! Don't pay any attention to the owner for I'm sure that he's heard far worse! Now, start with ce-ah!" he commanded as he started to play. For the next several minutes, I sang the same warm-ups he had taught me back at the opera house, and for a moment, it seemed that we were indeed back in the Paris opera house, practicing as we had before. Then, Erik stopped playing and said, "You've warmed up you vocal chords enough and now it's time to sing. Do you read any Italian?" After seeing the look on my face, he added, "That's all right. I'll feed you the lines, but be sure to pronounce the words exactly the way I do."
"But what am I singing?" I whispered in reply, still incredulous that
he actually expected me to sing solo in public.
"A loose translation of the words is this: Beloved! Believe
only this! Whenever you away from me, my heard languishes.
It's not the greatest poetry in the world but you'll find that it's a lot
easier to sing than anything else you've done, and right now, I want to
make it as easy as possible for you," he replied softly before playing
the opening chords to the arietta. I sang as he commanded, although
far more softly than he wanted, for I was feeling extremely self-conscious.
After he finished the last chords, he said, "My dear, I know that you can
sing with much more force and feeling than you just did. Don't worry
about your audience-customers in this place come and go, so think of it
this way! You probably won't see these people ever again and even
if you do, that means they like to hear you sing! Now, that doesn't
sound too bad, now does it? Now, let's go over this again, and watch
those grace notes!" I sang the song three more times before Erik
was satisfied that I had sung it well enough. "Just like old times,
my dear?" he asked as he finished playing the last chords. I nodded,
for it did indeed feel like we were back in Paris.
Except for the customers, that is! While I was singing, I noticed that the store began to fill with people, some buying items from the store and others just came to listen to our music. Just as we were to start on another song, a voice called out during our pause and said, "Bravi! Bravi!" Erik took that as a cue and rose from the piano and bowed in the direction of the voice before motioning for me to do the same. The voice that called out its admiration belonged to the same southern gentleman I had met at the convent earlier. He then walked over to Erik and took Erik's hand to shake it before introducing himself to us. "I'm Hal Stone, and I couldn't help but hear y'all! You play very well, sir, and ma'am, you sing awfully sweet. Sir, do you sing as well?"
Erik, appearing uncomfortable to the first time that day, replied softly, "I used too...at one time."
"The reason I asked is because I used to own a restaurant back in Montgomery-that's Montgomery, Alabama, and I was thinkin' of addin' some entertainment-you know, kinda like what y'all were doin' just now. Now, Montgomery's no small town, but we just don't have the schools like the university or even Auburn that could provide my place with singers like y'all...and that's kinda what I wanted to have at my place. Now, Montgomery's got good singers, don't get me wrong, but even the church-goin' people don't sound as good as you, ma'am! Now, President R took away my place before she kicked me out of the States, but if I ever get back home and get my place back...well, what I'm tryin' to say is, that y'all got a job waitin' there. Now, I know Montgomery's no New York City or even Atlanta, but we're big enough to support good musicians like y'all!"
"Thank you, sir, we'll keep that in mind," Erik replied stiffly.
"Anyhow, I thought I'd express my admiration. Good job, y'all!" the restaurateur replied before shaking Erik's hand again, and then walked back into the crowd.
After he left, I turned to Erik and asked softly, "Would you ever consider moving to Montgomery after this is all over?"
Smiling wryly, Erik shook his head and replied, "Do you really think he's serious? I've seen his type before and if you notice, he didn't even bother to ask our names! No, he's not really serious, and while I may be getting used to slights like that, they still hurt! Well, you've sung enough for one day. I promised the proprietor that we wouldn't take up more than thirty minutes of his time."
Just as we started to leave the store, the owner called us over to the cash register and said to Erik, "I've made more money is the last half an hour than I made last month!" He then opened his cash register and handed us each a fifty-escudo bill, before adding, "Just to show my appreciation, and can you come back tomorrow? You two are great for my business! By the way, keep the music book-it's on the house!"
Erik bowed his head a little and said, "Thank you, my friend. I told you I would make it worth your while to let my companion and me make music here, and yes, we'll be back tomorrow. Will the same time be all right?"
The proprietor nodded and said, "Indeed! I'll see you tomorrow at eight a.m.!"
As we left the store, I remarked dryly, "Well, that's one way to make exile more bearable! How much is fifty excudos worth anyway?"
Erik shrugged and said, Probably not very much, but it adds up after
awhile. Well, now you can honestly say that you can sing for your
supper!" I smiled at his little joke as we walked along on our way
back to the convent. Just as we passed a rather tall building, we
both heard a sharp crack before Erik screamed out, "Duck!" as he pushed
me almost to the ground. At that very moment, a shot rang out from
behind us and a voice was heard in the distance, swearing in English.
I rose from where I nearly fell just in time to see Erik start to fall.