"Where will you be staying?" the driver asked.
"With friends," Jaime said.
And Megan thought: He doesn't trust anyone. Not even someone who is helping him. But how can he? His life is in danger. And she thought of how terrible it must be for Jaime to be living under that shadow, running from the police and the army. And all because he believed in an ideal so much that he was willing to die for it. What was it he had said? The difference between a patriot and a rebel depends on who is in power at the moment
The ride was a pleasant one. The thin canvas cover offered security, and Megan realized how much fear she had felt when they were out in the open fields, knowing that they were all being hunted. And Jaime lives with that tension constantly. How strong he is.
She and Jaime talked, and the conversation flowed easily, as though they had known each other forever. Amparo Jiron sat listening to them, saying nothing, her face impassive.
"When I was a boy," Jaime told Megan, "I wanted to be an astronomer."
Megan was curious. "What made you - ?"
"I had seen my mother and father and sisters shot down, and friends murdered, and I couldn't face what was happening here on this bloody earth. The stars were an escape. They were millions of light years away, and I used to dream of going to them one day and getting away from this awful planet."
She was watching him, silent.
"But there is no escape, is there? In the end, we all have to face up to our responsibilities. So I came back down to earth. I used to believe that one person could not make a difference. But I know now that that is not true. Jesus made a difference, and Mohammed and Gandhi and Einstein and Churchill." He smiled wryly. "Don't misunderstand, Sister. I'm not comparing myself to any of them. But in my small way, I do what I can. I think we must all do what we can."
And Megan wondered whether his words were meant to have a special meaning for her.
"When I got the stars out of my eyes, I studied to be an engineer. I learned to build buildings. Now I blow them up. And the irony is that some of the buildings I've blown up are ones that I've built."
They reached Vitoria at dusk.
"Where shall I take you?" the truck driver asked.
"You can drop us off here, at the corner, amigo."
The truck driver nodded. "Right. Keep up the good fight."
Jaime helped Megan down from the truck. Amparo watched, her eyes blazing. She allowed her man to touch no other woman. She's a whore, Amparo thought. And Jaime is homy for that bitch of a nun. Well, that won't last. He will soon find that her milk is thin. He needs a real woman.
The group took to the side streets, keeping a wary eye out for trouble. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a one-story stone house nestled in a narrow street and surrounded by a high fence.
"This is it," Jaime said. "We will stay here tonight and leave tomorrow when it is dark."
They entered through the front gate and went to the door. It took Jaime but a moment to slip the lock, and they all went inside.
"Whose house is this?" Megan asked.
"You ask too many questions," Amparo said. "Just be grateful we've kept you alive."
Jaime looked at Amparo a moment. "She's proved her right to ask questions." He turned to Megan. "It's the house of a friend. You're in Basque country now. From here on our journey will be easier. There will be comrades everywhere, watching and protecting us. You'll be at the convent the day after tomorrow."
And Megan felt a small chill that was almost a sorrow. What is the matter with me? she wondered. Of course I want to go back. Forgive me, Lord. I asked that You bring me home to Your safety, and You are.
"I'm starved," Felix said. "Let's check out the kitchen."
It was completely stocked.
Jaime said, "He left plenty of food for us. I will make us a wonderful dinner." He smiled at Megan. "I think we deserve it, don't you?"
Megan said, "I didn't know men cooked."
Felix laughed. "Basque men take pride in their cooking. You are in for a treat. You will see."
Handing Jaime the ingredients he asked for, they watched as he prepared a piperade of fresh roasted green peppers, sliced white onions, tomatoes, eggs, and ham sauteed together.
As it started to cook, Megan said, "It smells delicious."
"Ah, that's just the appetizer. I'm going to make a famous Basque dish for you - pollo al chilindron."
He didn't say "for us," Amparo noted. He said, "for you." For the bitch.
Jaime cut chicken into strips, sprinkled salt and pepper over them, and browned them in hot oil while in a separate pan he started to cook onions, garlic, and tomatoes. "We'll let it simmer for half an hour."
Felix had found a bottle of red wine. He passed out glasses. "The red wine of La Rioja. You will like this." He offered a glass to Megan. "Sister?"
The last time Megan had tasted wine had been at communion. "Thank you," she said.
Slowly she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. It was delicious. She took another sip and she could feel a warmth moving down her body. It felt wonderful. I must enjoy all this while I can, Megan thought. It will be over soon.
During dinner, Jaime seemed unusually preoccupied.
"What's troubling you, amigo?" Felix asked.
Jaime hesitated. "We have a traitor in the movement."
There was a shocked silence.
"What - what makes you think that?" Felix demanded.
"Acoca. He keeps getting too close to us."
Felix shrugged. "He's the fox and we're the rabbits."