The Last Song

it, wrapped in white rags.
    “The drawer has a false bottom,” Papa explained. “You see that your mother keeps her linens in the top compartment. I’ll show you what we have below them.”
    He took the package out and gently unwrapped it, uncovering a roll of parchment. He put it down on the bureau, unrolled the delicate page, and smoothed it down.
    “Fortunately for us, your great-great-grandfather was an enlightened man,” he said. “He taught both of his daughters to read and write. This is a letter written by Fray Torquemada’s grandmother, her name was Sara, to your great-grandmother Miriam. It reveals that the two women were sisters. It proves, without doubt, that both of them were of the Jewish faith. Sara lived in Cordova after she married, while your great-grandmother dwelt here, in Toledo. Torquemada’s grandmother wrote down in this letter the recipes for thedishes that their mother used to cook for the Jewish holiday of Passover. And here she wishes her sister a happy and healthy Passover.”
    I hardly knew what to say.
    “How did you come by this letter, Papa?” I finally asked.
    “I found it,” Mama said. “About a year ago, I was looking for one of my linens when I accidentally pulled out the drawer too far. The drawer fell to the ground and the secret compartment popped open. The letter was in it. Your father’s family has lived in this villa for generations. Who knows who hid it or how long it has been in the secret compartment.”
    “May I see it?”
    “Come and look,” Papa said.
    Although the ink was faded, the markings made by a fine quill on the parchment were still easy to see. My heart filled with wonder as I read Doña Sara’s words to her sister.
    Papa rolled up the parchment and wrapped it in the white rags. He put it back into the secret compartment and gently pushed the false bottom of the drawer closed. Carefully, he slid the drawer back into the bureau and replaced Mama’s linens.
    “The Inquisition is quick to accuse New Christians of heresy, of disregarding the doctrines of the motherchurch,” he said. “The Inquisitors are fanatic about
limpieza de sangre
, the purity of our blood. They say that our blood is tainted by the blood of our Jewish forefathers, and that the blood of Old Christians is pure.”
    “But Papa, if Fray Torquemada’s grandmother was Jewish, wouldn’t he be a New Christian, a Converso, just like us?”
    “I told you that our daughter was clever,” Mama said.
    “You are perfectly right,” my father said. “The Grand Inquisitor is a Converso but nobody knows. Or if they do, they are too frightened to speak of it. Nobody, except for us, knows about the existence of this letter, and that’s the way it must remain – unless the unthinkable happens and we are accused of heresy. Do you understand?”
    “I do, Papa.”
    “If we were imprisoned by the Inquisition and Torquemada found out about this letter, he would let us go.”
    “Because we are his relatives?”
    “No, Isabel. He would free us if we threatened to expose his Converso background. The letter is our proof.”
    “Have you lost your senses, Enrique?” Mama asked.“You don’t threaten a man like the Grand Inquisitor. If we said anything about the letter to him, he would have us tortured until we ‘confessed’ that it was a forgery. He is so cruel that he can make anybody confess to anything. And then when they do confess, he burns them at the stake.”
    Papa shook his head. “You’re wrong, Catarina.” He turned back to me. “Don’t listen to your mother. Torquemada wouldn’t want people talking about this letter behind his back. They might believe what it says despite a ‘confession’ that states that it is a forgery. If we ever found ourselves in the clutches of the Inquisition, the letter would be our only weapon.”
    Mama’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap. “Torquemada is without mercy. God forbid that we should ever find ourselves in such a terrible position.”
    Papa pulled a beautifully carved bench away from the wall and sat down facing me and Mama. He leaned so close to me that I could see every pore, every wrinkle in his face. “Forget for now that you ever saw this letter,” he said. “You must not use it unless it is absolutely necessary. Unless it is a question of life and death. Do you understand?”
    “I do.”
    “Promise me that you will never tell anybody about it.”
    “I swear, Papa. I won’t tell.”
    Not even Yonah. It’s