“Querida, Evita is gone.”
Valentina nodded. She stared down at the paper; her hair was loose, hiding her face. Vicente took her in his arms.
“Querida, there is nothing here for us in Puerto Rico, no future for our children. You know that, don’t you?” He felt her nod against his bare shoulder, her tears wet and cold on his skin.
Raúl Vega waved La Democracia newspaper under Vicente’s nose.
“Look! Your name is in the paper! My name is in the paper! ¡Vega! Right here on the list of men going to Hawaii.”
“In the paper! Why would they put my name in the paper?”
“So that other poor suckers like you will join up.” His father tossed him the newspaper.
Vicente read: Vicente Vega de Utuado.
Raúl Vega pounded the table with his fist. “That’s what they want—Governor Allen and all the Americans—they want Puerto Ricans to leave Puerto Rico so that they can have the island for themselves. It’s all there in the newspaper. All the reasons why the Americans want us to leave, all the reasons that we shouldn’t.”
Vicente read:
The native subagents working for Hawaiian sugar are willing to sell their countrymen for a dollar a head. Do not forget your heritage! Fellow Puerto Ricans, take care that you not fall into the traps of the American flesh merchants, take care that you not end up slaves in a strange land. Take a lesson from the way Americans treat us on our own island! Better to starve in your own country than in a strange one!
Vicente pushed the newspaper away. “Better not to starve at all.”
“We can continue to live together in this house,” Raúl Vega said. “Of course Raulito can go to Hawaii, if he wants. But you have Valentina—”
Vicente looked at his father. “You don’t care if Raulito goes? He’s your son, too.”
“He’s been living under my roof since el huracán, hasn’t he? He can’t complain.” Raúl picked up the newspaper.
Vicente shook his head. “You haven’t been cruel, that’s true.”
“Exactly.” Raúl Vega turned the pages of the newspaper. “Think this locura over carefully, Vicente. Don’t believe anything the Americans promise you.”
When one of the town’s committeemen lectured Vicente about how he was wrong to leave the island, to turn his back on la Madre Patria, Vicente said, What country are you talking about? The Puerto Rico once ruled by Spain, or the Puerto Rico with its new American masters?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
GLORIA
Why are you crying, muchacha? What has Vicente done? Tell me, let your Gloria comfort you. There, there, Dios mio, it must be something terrible for you to go on like this, it isn’t like you to be such a llorona. Was it Don Raúl? I’m going to make him some special tea and he’ll suffer such a terrible itch that the only way he will be able to ease it is by taking a blade and slicing—what’s that? Not Don Raúl? Bueno, then it can’t be anything so bad, because the worst has already happened to this family, no crees? It’s like that time the American preacher came to the house, remember, Valentina? Spoke English and nobody knew what disparate he was talking, but then he took out some paper and started drawing all these terrible things, pointing to us, we thought he was talking about el huracán, but then when he drew locusts and frogs and X’s on doors, somebody, was it you or Vicente, no, it was Don Raúl who figured out it was the story about plagues in Egypt that I never knew about, and we all stared at the preacher drinking our coffee, and finally he left, the papers still on the table and I fed them to the stove, what do you mean, I’m not making any sense, you’re the one crying and laughing at the same time, muchacha, dime, what is it?
Hawaii? What is this, Hawaii? ¿Qué? So far away? Eres como mi hija, Valentina. The daughter I never had. I’ll go with you.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
OFFERINGS
The beans and root vegetables that Raúl Vega and his sons planted after the hurricane now provided most of their daily meal. Gloria had gone to the vegetable plot to pull up some tubers like ñame and malanga for their dinner. Carrying a small sack, Raúl Vega came into the kitchen while Valentina and Lourdes were shelling beans.
“Lourdes, go help Gloria,” Raúl Vega said.
Lourdes did as she was told.
“What’s in the sack?” Valentina looked up from the beans.
Raúl Vega placed it on the table. “Open it.”
Valentina reached for the bag. “Rice! How did you get it?”
“I’ll do anything for you, Valentina,” he said.
“Please, Raúl, you’ve been behaving very well lately,” she said.
He had been waiting for the right time to persuade her, but she would be leaving soon. “Don’t go to Hawaii. Stay in Puerto Rico, with me.”
“You must be out of your mind to suggest such a thing,” she said.
“I feel a little crazy,” Raúl Vega said.
The way she looked at him, her dark brown eyes wide in surprise, reminded him of the girl he’d seen naked all those years ago.
“We can continue to live in this house together, you and me, Javiercito and Lourdes. And even Gloria.”
“Raúl, I appreciate that you let us stay here and how much you’ve helped us.” Valentina stood, putting the table between them.
“Things are harder now than they were before, but I’m sure you’re better off with me here than you’ll be with Vicente in Hawaii,” he said. “I can give you more than my son can.”
“Vicente is my husband, I love him, not you,” Valentina said. “You must accept that.”
“When you leave, it will be like losing the sun,” he said.
She smiled a little. “That’s sweet.”
Raúl sat down slumped at the table. Gloria and Lourdes came into the kitchen, arms full of vegetables.
“Valentina, look at all these—”
Raúl got up; they watched him leave.
“What did he want? Is he up to his old pocas vergüenzas?”
“¿Qué pocas vergüenzas?” Lourdes dropped the vegetables on the table.
“Go wash your hands,” her mother said.
The women marveled over the sack of rice and Valentina told Gloria everything.
“Poor Raúl,” Gloria said. “Las damas are in heaven having a good chuckle.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
GRATITUDE
One day in late November, Vicente brought home a newspaper and asked Valentina to read it aloud because her voice was so lovely it even made bad news sound good. She announced that Governor Allen had decreed a holiday in Puerto Rico called “Thanksgiving.” Governor Allen reminded Puerto Ricans to give thanks that all was right in their world: in the last twelve months, under the influence of good government, the crops had improved, the farmland had recovered, industrial and financial interests had become more profitable. Aside from the hurricanes, the island hadn’t been visited by pestilence or other calamities, and the general health of the public was excellent.