“I’m sure the Church protested,” Megan said.
“No. It wasn’t until nuns were being raped by his Falangists and priests were being murdered and churches were being burned that finally the pope broke with Franco. But that didn’t bring my mother or father or sisters back to life.”
The passion in his voice was frightening.
“I’m sorry. But that was long ago. The war is over.”
“No. Not for us it isn’t. The government will still not permit us to fly the Basque flag or celebrate our national holidays or speak our own language. No, Sister. We’re still being oppressed. We’ll keep on fighting until we gain our independence. There are half a million Basques in Spain and a hundred fifty thousand more in France. We want our independence—but your God is too busy to help us.”
Megan said earnestly, “God cannot take sides, for He is in all of us. We are all a part of Him, and when we try to destroy Him, we destroy ourselves.”
To Megan’s surprise, Jaime smiled. “We are a lot alike, you and I, Sister.”
“We are?”
“We may believe in different things, but we believe with a passion. Most people go through life without caring deeply about anything. You devote your life to God; I devote my life to my cause. We care.”
And Megan thought: Do I care enough? And if I do, why am I enjoying being with this man? I should be thinking only of returning to a convent There was a power in Jaime Miró that was like a magnet. Is he like Manolete? Risking his life taking daring chances because he has nothing to lose?
“What will they do to you if the soldiers catch you?” Megan asked.
“Execute me.” He said it so matter-of-factly that for a moment Megan thought she had misunderstood.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of course I’m afraid. We’re all afraid. None of us wants to die, Sister. We’ll meet your God soon enough. We don’t want to rush it.”
“Have you done such terrible things?”
“That depends on your point of view. The difference between a patriot and a rebel depends on who is in power at the moment. The government calls us terrorists. We call ourselves freedom fighters. Jean Jacques Rousseau said that freedom is the power to choose our own chains. I want that freedom.” He studied her a moment. “But you don’t have to concern yourself with any of these things, do you? Once you’re back in the convent, you’ll no longer be interested in the world outside.”
Was that true? Being out in the world again had turned her life upside down. Had she given up her freedom? There was so much she wanted to know, so much she had to learn. She felt like an artist with a blank canvas about to start sketching a new life. If I go back to a convent, she thought, I will be shut away from life again. And even as she thought it, Megan was appalled by the word if. When I go back, she corrected herself hastily. Of course I’m going back. I have nowhere else to go.
They camped that night in the woods.
Jaime said, “We’re about thirty miles from Logroño and we aren’t supposed to meet the others for two days. It will be safer for us to stay on the move until then. So tomorrow we will head toward Vitoria. The next day we’ll go into Logroño and just a few hours after that, Sister, you’ll be at the convent in Mendavia.”
Forever. “Will you be all right?” Megan asked.
“Are you worried about my soul, Sister, or my body?”
Megan found herself blushing.
“Nothing will happen to me. I’ll cross the border into France for a while.”
“I will pray for you,” Megan told him.
“Thank you,” he said gravely. “I will think of you praying for me and it will make me feel safer. Get some sleep now.”
As Megan turned to he down, she saw Amparo staring at her from the far end of the clearing. There was a look of naked hatred on her face.
No one takes my man from me. No one.