The Last Song

is no longer safe for you to remain in the kingdom. He instructed me to invite you and your family to join us when we leave our home in a week’s time.”
    My selfish heart began to dance.
    “Where will you go, Yonah?” Papa asked.
    “I wanted to sign on as a crew for Christopher Columbus,” Yonah answered. “Many people say that he is an anusim. I know several men who are sailing with Columbus. He doesn’t ask too many questions when he signs you on.” He sighed. “My father says that he is too old to sail with Columbus, and I won’t go without him. We’ll make our way on foot to Cartagena instead, and board a ship from there to Morocco. My mother, may she rest in peace, had acousin in Fez. We’ll try to find him when we get there.”
    “Morocco! So far away,” Mama said.
    Papa rubbed his eyes tiredly. “What do you think, Catarina? Should we accept Natan Abenatar’s most generous invitation and go to Morocco with him and Yonah?”
    “Morocco is as good a place as any,” Mama said. “But must we leave, Enrique? This is our home. This is where you were born. This is all we know.” Defeated, she wiped her eyes.
    “We are no different from Yonah or his father,” Papa said. “They, too, have to leave all that’s familiar and beloved. If we stay, we will lose everything, even our lives.”
    I jumped to my feet. For the first time since I could remember, I laughed. “Thank God! I won’t have to marry Luis!”
    I stole a look at Yonah. He stared ahead. I couldn’t tell how he felt.
    “Yonah,” Papa said, “please tell your father that we accept his kind offer with gratitude.”
    Yonah stood up. “I’ll convey your message to him, Don Enrique. There is another problem. Where will you hide for the next few days? My father and I can’t give you refuge before we leave. The spies of the Inquisition are everywhere in the Juderia.”
    “We will find a place,” Papa said.
    “Let us know where you are,” Yonah replied. “We will come for you four days from today, early, before the sun rises. I will bring clothing so that you will look like one of us.”
    Before I knew it, Yonah was at the door.
    “I was afraid that this would happen,” Papa said after Yonah had left.
    “What a fine boy,” Mama said. “It’s so kind of his father to risk their own safety to help us. It’s good to know there are people like that in the world.”
    “Where will we go to hide?” I asked.
    “Juana and Diego will take us in,” replied Mama.
    “You can’t believe that. Tia Juana wouldn’t even answer the door when we tried to see her!”
    “I can’t explain why that happened,” Mama said, “but I know Juana. She would never let me down. She is your godmother. She is my friend. She’ll help us.”
    Papa pulled the bell so hard and pounded so fiercely on the front door of Tia Juana’s house that I thought that the wood would splinter. However, the door remained closed.
    “I told you that we shouldn’t have come back. I knew that they wouldn’t let us in.”
    “Silence, Isabel.” He banged even harder.
    Mama shot me an imploring glance. “Isabel! Don’t vex your father. Enrique,” she continued, “Isabel is right. Let’s go home. Juana and her family may have gone to their orchard to escape the heat.” She wiped the sweat off her forehead.
    “With all the windows open? Not likely. They are at home but not answering the door,” Papa roared. He slapped his thigh in frustration. “We’re wasting our time here.” He turned to Yussuf, who was holding our horses. “Give me the reins!”
    Papa mounted his horse. Mama and I followed on our animals. The Moor rode a donkey. It was slow going with horses, donkeys, mules, litters, and people milling in the road. We had turned the corner when I heard somebody calling after me.
    “Isabel, wait!”
    Brianda was running through the crowd behind us, pushing and shoving aside everyone in her path with her elbows.
    “Stop, Papa! Stop!”
    My parents reigned in their horses. Brianda was gasping for breath. I dismounted and hugged her. Mama got off her horse, too, but my father stayed in his saddle.
    “Where are your parents?” he thundered. “Why won’t they answer the door?”
    “I am sorry, Tio Enrique, but –”
    “But what?”
    “Leave the girl alone, Enrique!” Mama said. Her tone was sharp. “
She
is here, isn’t she?”
    Papa dismounted. “Your Tia Catarina is right. Forgive my bad manners, Brianda. We need your parents’ help, but