The Fountains of Silence by Ruta Sepetys Page A

do.”
    “They would tell us to stay together, that here in Vallecas we are with our people.”
    “But they were teachers, Antonio. Mamá would hate Rafa working two jobs and digging graves. He should have gone to university.”
    “ Sí , and my father was a bookseller, murdered in his very own shop. He would hate me being a trash collector,” says Antonio. “He would also hate knowing that his children inherited the pain and punishment of a war. But the tourism coming to Spain, it’s helping the economy. Exposure to foreigners helps too. It makes the people here realize that the restrictions in Spain—it doesn’t have to be like this.”
    “But what if that realization is dangerous? Look at Ana.”
    “Sometimes the truth is dangerous, Julia. But we should search for it nonetheless.” Antonio sighs. “We’ll keep our heads down, save for a bit longer.” He points to Lali, now fast asleep in her mother’s arms. “And count our little blessings.”
    A group of loud male voices approaches from outside. The door opens a crack and Rafa’s voice booms in.
    “Antonio! I’m going to the fountain to wash. Then I’ll take Lali.”
    Antonio dresses for work and the family shift change. The family works quietly, but in concert. Ana stays at the hotel two nights per week while Rafa helps with Lali. Prior to Lali’s birth, their hardshipand debt were manageable. Julia remembers the sober face of the doctor she saw during her single pregnancy visit.
    “Your difficulties exceed your good intentions. How will you manage all of this?” he had asked them, shaking his head.
    “As we always have,” responded Antonio. “Together.”
    But with time, their debts increase. Families must pay rent on a burial grave. Although the location of their father’s body is unknown, they are responsible for the rent on their mother’s costly plot. If they can no longer afford the rent, Mamá ’s remains will be hacked up and tossed in a common pit. Julia cannot bear the thought. After their mother’s torture in prison, knowing she rests quietly in her own private space is of deep comfort.
    Rafa returns, shirtless and wet from the waist up, water dripping from his dark curls. Antonio hands him the family’s sole towel as he departs for work.
    Upon seeing his sister, Rafa freezes. “ Ay , Julia, why are you home? Is something wrong with Lali?”
    “Nothing’s wrong. Luis closed the shop early for a meeting. I’ll finish the jacket for Ordóñez here tonight.”
    “Ordóñez?” Rafa’s eyes light up and he moves toward his sister.
    “Stop! You must dry off completely. I don’t want you dripping anywhere near this jacket.”
    Rafa uses the small, threadbare towel and furiously rubs at his hair and skin. His eyes are glued to the sparkling fabric in his sister’s lap.
    “Look at that! ¡Sensacional! There must be a thousand jewels on that coat. That fabric is so strong, like a shield. How many needles did you break?”
    “Too many,” says Julia, looking at her ravaged hands. When needles break, the pieces lodge in her fingers.
    “And the pants are in the package?” asks Rafa, pointing to the paper bundle.
    Julia shakes her head. “Something else.” She motions for Rafa to open the package.
    He peels back the paper and lifts the turquoise jacket. He looks to his sister.
    “From Luis. For your torero .”
    Rafa’s bright smile turns to shock. He carefully lays the old suit on the table, ever so gently, as if it were made of glass. He stands, staring in disbelief.
    “Julia,” he whispers. “ Gracias , Julia.”
    Rafa slowly brings a hand to his face. He begins to cry.

21
    Daniel wakes to the bleat of a car horn. The clock says 1:00 a.m. His body has still not adjusted to the time change in Spain. The open balcony door welcomes the cooler night air into the hot room. He steps out onto the terrace and looks down at the bustling patio. In Preston Hollow, the entire neighborhood is dark by 10:00 p.m. Here in Madrid, the