The Blue Line by Ingrid Betancourt

San Francisco Solano, where Father Mugica celebrates Mass on Saturday afternoons.”
    Mama Fina didn’t hesitate. “We have to warn him.”
    â€œWe’re meeting him in two hours.”
    They arrived half an hour ahead of schedule. The blue Renault was parked diagonally on the sidewalk a few yards from the door of the church. Much as she wanted to, Julia didn’t feel brave enough to confront her source. They agreed that Mama Fina would introduce the subject and then Julia would quickly describe what she had seen.
    Father Mugica was finishing a meeting with a number of couples preparing for marriage. He spotted Julia and Mama Fina and beckoned to them to come and join him in the sacristy.
    He was sitting on a bench against the wall. The chasuble he would put on to celebrate Mass hung from a coat hanger on the door of a wooden cupboard. Dressed in his cassock, Mugica sat waiting for them, his hands resting on his knees. He pulled up a wicker chair, gestured to Mama Fina to take a seat, and invited Julia to sit beside him on the bench.
    Mama Fina got straight to the point, offering as little explanation as possible and then drawing Julia into the conversation, so that all she had to do was describe what she had seen. Carlos Mugica listened attentively, without a single interruption. When Julia had finished her account, he remained silent for a long time, staring at the floor, breathing heavily.
    â€œYes, I’ve received threats.” He got up and began to pace the room. Then, smiling almost defiantly, he added: “I’m not afraid of dying. I’m more afraid my bishop will expel me from the Church.”
    He started to laugh, then fell suddenly silent. He tried to look elsewhere and avoid what could only be a distressing train of thought.
    â€œI respect Perón, and I know he respects me . . . but there are others who don’t feel the same way.”
    He took a few minutes to recover his habitual calm, thensaid slowly, “It would be a great honor for me to give my life in the service of those who are suffering. The Lord knows that I am ready.”
    He opened the door of the sacristy and gave them a dazzling smile. “Thank you for coming. I know you bear great love for me. That is the best gift you could give me.”

9.
    THE NIGHTMARE

    May 11
,
1974
    J ulia hadn’t slept a wink all night. She got up very early, even though she didn’t have school that day, and went and sat by the fountain in the courtyard while she waited for Mama Fina to wake up. The sound of water chuckling over stone soothed her. She heard the clatter of plates in the kitchen and felt relieved. Her grandmother came out to join her just as a flock of sparrows invaded the courtyard. Mama Fina went up to the birds, the pockets of her apron filled with yesterday’s rice, which she scattered with a practiced hand, then kissed her granddaughter. She too seemed quiet.
    â€œWe have to go and talk to him again,” said Julia, on the verge of tears.
    â€œ
Mi amor
, we’ve done our part. He knows what he needs to know, and he is free to choose. If he wants to fight, he’ll have to start by changing his habits. But it’ll only be a reprieve,because the people who want to kill him won’t give up. He’ll have to leave Argentina.”
    â€œThen he must leave. We have to tell him! He’s got no right to die; he has to be alive to help change things. If he dies, he’ll be forgotten.”
    â€œSometimes it’s the memory of martyrs that gives others the strength to resist. A great nation cannot be built without examples of greatness.”
    â€œBut it’s awful to accept death like that, Mama Fina! It’s selfish to sacrifice everything because you want to be a hero. Two years ago no one would have believed that Perón would come back to power. Two years from now maybe the people who are trying to kill Father Mugica will have every reason to want him