The Last Song

silence with a brisk clap of his hands. A tall, turbaned Moor entered the room. It was the slave who had accompanied Papa home from Granada. He was carrying a large package in his arms, and a square of crimson silk was draped on top. He put the package on the table in front of me, bowed, and backed out of the room.
    “Remove the kerchief,” Papa said.
    I pulled it off and found myself staring at a trembling, little lark with brown feathers.
    “I remembered how much you liked this golden bird,” Papa said, pointing to Yonah’s masterpiece. “I bought you a live one!”
    “Your father carried the little creature home all the way from Granada,” Mama added.
    “It comes from the gardens of the Alhambra, from paradise on earth,” Papa said. “May your life be as pleasant as if you were living in paradise.”
    I threw my arms around his neck. “Oh, Papa. Thank you! My own songbird. I love it!”
    I put my finger through the bars of the cage and smoothed down the tiny bird’s feathers.
    “Poor little creature,” I said softly, “you may live in a cage, away from your home, and you may be forced to sing your songs all alone, but you will be happy with me for I will take good care of you.”
    The bird ruffled its feathers and burst into a song of such sweetness that I thought my heart would melt.
    “What will you call it?” Mama asked.
    I thought long and hard until its name became clear in my mind. “Its name is Anusim. It means ‘the forced one.’ ”
    Papa gave me a sharp look.
    “That’s a silly name for a bird,” Brianda said.
    “I heard it from one of the servants … I can’t remember which one.” I kept my voice casual. “The name suits the bird. It’s forced to live in a cage and to sing its songs in captivity.” I stroked its feathers again. “Don’t worry, little one. I’ll take good care of you.”
    The night was as dark as ink. I could barely see farther than the tip of my nose. I dragged my hand along the side of the house as I made my way to the orange tree.Yonah was waiting.
    “I hoped that you could come.”
    “The feast lasted forever. Afterward, Brianda wanted to talk. I had to wait until she fell asleep.” I sat down on the grass beside him. “How I wish that you could have been with us tonight.”
    “I will be some day. And you will meet my father.” His tone was so sure.
    “You believe that?”
    “With all my heart. We must be patient.”
    He took my hand and I lowered my head onto his shoulder.
    “You’ll never guess what a wonderful present Papa gave me. He brought me a songbird all the way from the Alhambra. It is so beautiful and its voice is so sweet. Papa says that he bought it for me because he remembered how much I love the golden bird you made for me.”
    “My father made it. I just helped.”
    “Don’t be modest. The two of you made it together.” I squeezed his hand. “I named the songbird Anusim because it is forced to live in a cage and sing its songs in captivity.”
    Yonah drew closer. “Let it go, Isabel. Let it be free.”
    “I can’t! What would Papa say?”
    “Tell him that you forgot to close the door of the cage and the bird flew away.”
    “A falcon might capture it and devour it. I am afraid to free it.” I began to cry. “Why can’t you be happy for me? I love to hear it sing.”
    I pressed his hand against my cheek and felt his fingers wiping away my tears.
    “Don’t cry, Isabel. Your tears break my heart.”
    The sweetness of his breath caressed my face.
    “I have a gift for you, too,” he said.
    For a moment, the moon appeared and I was able to see what he had given me. It was a small silver cup with intricate designs imprinted onto its surface.
    “It’s a kiddush cup. We use it to hold the wine we drink to welcome the Sabbath,” Yonah explained.
    “It’s beautiful!”
    “I made it.”
    Suddenly, the bushes rustled nearby.
    Yonah got to his feet. “Who is there?” he called out.
    There was no answer.
    He pulled me up from the grass. “Go back to the house, Isabel! I’ll come with you.”
    “No! It’s too risky.”
    He put his arm around my shoulders and hurried me along the wall to a side door. We stopped there. For a fleeting moment I thought that I felt his lips brush my hair, but it was so dark that I couldn’t be sure.
    “Go!” he whispered. “Go back to your bed.”
    “I won’t leave you.”
    “You must.”
    “How will you get back into Toledo?”
    “I won’t. At least not until the