The Secret Emissary

By Roberto de Haro

The Secret Emissary tells the story of a young Mexican from a wealthy family in Sonora, Mexico. Educated in Spain, Luis Esquerre Calella de Valderano is a skilled researcher and writer, and with a penchant for international relations and diplomacy, he becomes an unofficial Vatican liaison with an American diplomat during the 1919 Paris Peace Conference. A talented academic, accomplished musician, and agile sportsman—a friend to popes and aristocrats alike—Luis becomes a collaborator in underground activities against Fascists in Italy, Germany, and Spain. As a covert agent for the Jesuit Superior General and Popes Pius XI and XII and a secret liaison between the Vatican and Jesuit Curia and American military intelligence, Luis cuts a swath through history as he becomes a Monsignor, a Bishop, and after World War II, a Cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Feb 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9781662943041

Book preview

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Una Vida Nueva

Incipit Vita Nova

(The new life begins)

—Dante Alighieri, La Vita Nuova (1293)

Iam often mistaken for my famous older brother, Ruben Valderano. He is recognized and celebrated for his remarkable achievements as a military leader in Mexico and an authority on modern warfare. His story has been told elsewhere. But now I will share a tale that has remained untold for many reasons. It is a story that pays tribute to people who during a time of crisis and danger were courageous and determined to help and save others at the expense of personal injury and even death. I played a role in this history and will be your narrator. What I am about to relate involves the commitment of many people, among them clerics and laypeople who risked their lives for others.

Please forgive me. As your guide, I need to introduce myself. I am Luis Esquerre Calella de Valderano, the fifth child and third son of Don Sebastian Esquerre Nuñez Valderano from Guaymas, Sonora, Mexico, where I was born in 1893. I am a Jesuit priest within the Roman Catholic Church. It is the fall of 1948, and I sit at a favorite shady spot in the Vatican Giardino Quadrato to reminisce about my past. It is important that we travel back to 1870s Mexico, where this story begins.

My father, Don Sebastian, was the family scion of the powerful Valderano clan in Sonora, a northwestern state of Mexico. He was well educated, spoke Spanish, French, and English, and as the eldest son of Don Gerardo, my abuelito (grandfather), became the patron (head) of the Valderanos. Through family and friends, I learned about my father before he married my mother, Doña Sofia Castellano de Calella. Don Sebastian was a shrewd businessman and parlayed his inheritance into a large fortune that made him a powerful leader and political force in Sonora. With my uncles, he expanded the family holdings by purchasing large tracts of land, undertaking new agricultural and manufacturing ventures, and making careful investments that yielded high profits and financial security. Under my father’s leadership, the Valderanos began profitable foreign trade arrangements with business and industrial leaders in France, the United States, and Spain. Because of his financial and political acumen, my father was recognized and respected in Sonora and elsewhere as the leading caballero (gentleman, leader) in Sonora. He declined various entreaties by wealthy caballeros, political leaders, and Roman Catholic prelates to become the governor. He did not need to be the governor, because he was respected and even feared throughout Sonora and elsewhere. His wealth, political alliances, and the support of key members of the Roman Catholic Church hierarchy in Mexico, made him the de facto leader of Sonora.

My father’s personal life involved two marriages and a troublesome competition between two of his sons, my older brother and half-brother. Don Sebastian’s first wife, Irmina Zapanta Montemayor, was the eldest daughter of the wealthy and influential Montemayor family from the state of Durango, southeast of Sonora. The Montemayors were ambitious and ruthless, eager to improve their political and financial status by a marriage alliance with my father. Their agenda was more than just close family ties to the Valderanos. Their goal was to control my family’s resources. They were elated when my oldest brother Elpidio was born in 1884. As the firstborn male in the family, he would inherit my father’s wealth and become the patron. Two years later, Doña Irmina gave birth to Yolanda, my eldest sister. Shortly after Yolanda was born, Doña Irmina died. Her death left my father a wealthy widower with two young children. The conniving Montemayor jefe (head) sent Doña Feliciana Zapanta to be a surrogate aunt and governess for Elpidio and Yolanda. Doña Feliciana did everything possible to strengthen the ties between Elpidio and Yolanda and the Montemayors. It was part of the old jefe’s plan to absorb the Valderano estates, investments, and financial holdings. This strategy, if accomplished, would make the Montemayors dominant in Sonora and Durango, and the most powerful and influential family in northwestern Mexico.

A year after Doña Irmina died, my father began to search for a new wife. With a male heir to his wealth assured, and a young healthy daughter, Don Sebastian decided to find a partner with several desirable qualities. He wanted a bride from a prominent Catholic family, preferably with a large dowry. She had to be well-educated, attractive, and refined. He wanted his new wife to be from a Spanish family. He enlisted the services of a Spanish marriage broker, who identified several eligible young women. Arranged marriages were common in Spain and most of the former Spanish colonies in the Americas. For a contribution of funds to the Roman Catholic Church, the Vatican sanctioned such arranged marriages. Among the list of suitable candidates was Sofia Castellano de Calella, the daughter of a wealthy and influential Catalan family in northeastern Spain.

Catalonia is a northeastern province in Spain, and the inhabitants call themselves Catalans. They speak Castilian Spanish, a provincial tongue, and are considered the most industrious and financially successful population group in Spain. They are the main rivals for the ruling Castilian leadership in Madrid. Catalonia borders France and has the prosperous port of Barcelona. The Castellano de Calella family was from near Barcelona and had a pedigree that included blood ties to minor noble families in France and Italy. But they were not part of the landed aristocracy in Spain that controlled the nation. The aristocratic leaders in Madrid, often called the Madrigueños, grudgingly accepted the Castellano de Calellas because they were wealthy and controlled a rich portfolio of property, industrial resources, and enormous financial investments. Moreover, they had profitable business arrangements with other countries, including the United States and Mexico. Papa had lucrative business arrangements with the Castellano de Calellas. Don Adalberto, the family patriarch, was delighted when my father showed an interest in Sofia, his youngest daughter.

Sofia, my mother, was about five feet, nine inches, brilliant, attractive, played the piano, and had a lovely voice. She was well-educated, headstrong, and favored progressive causes, something that displeased several suitors. My mother could be outspoken, and prone to idealize progressive and some radical endeavors. This created problems in finding an eligible husband. Mama’s beliefs in human rights and the nascent suffrage movement caused several aristocratic and wealthy suiters to reject her. But something about Sofia appealed to my father, who decided to pursue her.

My father and Sofia exchanged correspondence that resulted in his visit to Barcelona. My father was very well-received by the Castellano de Calella family. Don Adalberto and my uncles Alfonso, Conrado, and Rodrigo liked Papa and did everything they could to make him feel welcome. Uncle Conrado confided in me many years later when his brothers took my father to an exclusive club in Barcelona for dinner. They expressed strong affection for Sofia and said she was a remarkable woman and would make someone a wonderful wife. My father later told me that the Calella family was very pleased when he asked for Sofia’s hand in marriage.

While in Barcelona, my father and Sofia met often. They enjoyed each other’s company and shared ideas and feelings that increased their attraction. Papa told her about the beauty of Guaymas and its location on the shores of the Sea of Cortez, where the desert marched into the azure sea. She was enthralled by Guaymas and its proximity to the United States. Sofia considered the United States a progressive democracy and a place to visit. There was no direct rail service to the capital of Mexico. This allowed important developments in the state to occur without any interference by the centralized government. Instead, there was direct rail service from Sonora to Arizona in the United States. She learned that my father and uncles had profitable trade agreements for minerals and staples with Norte Americano businesses, and that they often traveled together or individually to the United States. Guaymas was also a port where American and European ships stopped regularly to unload manufactured goods from abroad and take on raw materials from Sonora. Everything she learned from my father and read about Sonora and Guaymas appealed to her.

When my father asked for Sofia’s hand in marriage, Don Adalberto said, You have my blessing. But the decision is hers. I will ask what she wants to do about your proposal. Mama said she was attracted to Don Sebastian and accepted his marriage proposal.

* * *

There was a dangerous competition between my older half-brother Elpidio and Ruben. Doña Irmina was a small-boned woman, with a slender figure and a sallow complexion. Elpidio and Yolanda inherited their mother’s slender build and complexion and were restricted from strenuous physical activity. Even though Ruben was almost six years younger than Elpidio, he grew strong, enjoyed different forms of physical activity, and would not back down when challenged. My sisters and I admired Ruben’s physical development, his intellect, and keen wit. But aside from my mother and uncles, he received little attention or praise from Elpidio, Yolanda, and Doña Feliciana. Twice a year Elpidio and Yolanda visited the Montemayors in Durango with Doña Feliciana. The visits were usually a month to six weeks. My uncles told me that it was during those visits that the Montemayor jefe instilled in Elpidio loyalty to the Montemayors and what to do when he became the patron. My father, for whatever reason, ignored comments about the Montemayor jefe’s sinister influence on Elpidio. Instead, he focused attention on Elpidio and devoted considerable time and effort to groom him to be the patron. However, as my two brothers became adolescents, it was Ruben who demonstrated intelligence, self-confidence, and assertiveness. Ruben was my hero and on more than one occasion protected me. He also helped me do well in my studies and learn to overcome different challenges. My father assigned an Apache scout to teach Ruben to ride, shoot with a pistol and rifle, survive in the wilderness, and defend himself. I admired Ruben and followed him like a puppy. The bond between us annoyed Elpidio, who often made snide remarks about my missteps as an indirect way to criticize Ruben. I knew Elpidio disliked me and would try to harm me if he could.

Ruben was a caring and loyal older brother. He taught me to be an accomplished rider, showed me how to fish, track, hunt, and survive in the wilderness. He was my protector. When I was injured he comforted me in a reassuring way. My older sister Artemisia was very much like Mama—attractive, bright, and with raven hair. She and Ruben openly expressed their affection for me and our younger sister Consuelo. Elpidio and Yolanda were always distant from us, kept to themselves, and were cosseted by Doña Feliciana.

A strong dislike developed between Ruben and Elpidio that eventually erupted into two fights. In both clashes, Ruben prevailed. But it was during the second fight that Elpidio used a knife to stab Ruben. Elpidio had secretly taken Ruben’s dagger and used it during their fight, later claiming that it was Ruben who produced the blade. Fortunately, Mama interviewed the servants, the herrero (blacksmith) and vaqueros (cowboys) who witnessed the brawl and learned that Elpidio provoked the fight and used the dagger. Papa at first believed Elpidio’s story that Ruben had used the knife to injure him. But after my mother insisted that he listen to the witnesses, Papa realized that Elpidio had lied. However, he decided not to punish either of them. Instead, he told my mother Elpidio had to be properly educated and prepared to assume the role and responsibilities of family patron. It was important, he told her, that the two boys be separated. Several weeks later my sisters and I learned that we would accompany my mother and Ruben to Spain, where he would be educated.

* * *

I did not appreciate Elpidio’s deep hatred for Ruben. Yolanda and Doña Feliciana whispered lies to us that Ruben’s violent behavior and brutish manner required that he be sent away before he harmed someone.

I rebelled against my older half-brother and half-sister when they said Ruben was to be sent away because he was jealous of Elpidio. One afternoon when I overheard them and Doña Feliciana criticizing Ruben, I confronted them and accused them of lying. My accusation annoyed Elpidio and Yolanda, and Doña Feliciana said I was just a confused, silly boy. When Elpidio called me a "mocoso" (snotty kid), I turned on him. He was much bigger and stronger, and easily knocked me down. But I got up and bit him on the arm. Doña Feliciana immediately intervened, holding me by the hair while she screamed that I was out of control. I knew then that Elpidio hated me and would try to find ways to hurt me. That evening my father punished me and told me to curb my temper. I took the lashes he administered, determined not to cry. It was the first time I did something to displease my parents. Later, Ruben came to my room and praised me for what I had done. It strengthened my attachment to him.

Before we departed for Spain, I asked Mama why Elpidio and Yolanda hated Ruben. My comment surprised her and she said it was not so.

Then why is Ruben being sent away? My mother did not elaborate about the decision. I was perplexed that no explanation was given. She knew I was puzzled and angry because of disparaging comments about Ruben. She asked what I had heard. I refused, a stubborn streak that overcame me.

Mama looked deep into my eyes and said, Your brother is not being punished, Luis. He will be with my family and educated in one of the best schools in Spain. Her answer did not satisfy me. Sensing my truculence, she said, When we get to Spain and meet our family, you will understand.

Before we left for Spain, I tried to talk with Ruben but he was in a funk and withdrew into his shell. My sister Artemisia and I talked about Ruben and what Mama said. She agreed that Elpidio, Yolanda, and Doña Feliciana were deceitful and disliked Ruben and said that in time these issues would be resolved. The trip to Spain would be long, and I desperately wanted to talk with Ruben.

The night before we caught the train for Vera Cruz, I met with Ruben and begged him to talk with me. In the darkness of his room he hugged me, expressed his love, and cautioned me not to trust Elpidio or Yolanda. He gave me a soft cuff on the cheek, said we would talk on the trip, and told me to go to bed. I slept fitfully that night.

Chapter 2

A Journey of Awareness

Hold every moment sacred.

—Thomas Mann, The Beloved Returns (1939)

It was early in May of 1904 when Mama, my two sisters and I left Guaymas with Ruben. He was fifteen, and I was eleven. There was no direct train service to the port of Vera Cruz, so we had changed trains in Guadalajara, Querétaro, and Mexico City. Papa hired two men to serve as bodyguards. It was a time when trains were stopped and robbed by bandits. And they often kidnapped and violated women. Our protectors were competent and well-armed. They traveled with us until we boarded the ship to Spain.

On the trip Ruben kept mainly to himself and spoke very little. He answered questions laconically, or with nonverbal communication, such as a nod or shake of his head, looking away, or gesturing with his hands. In the dining car, he appeared distant and replied politely to Mama’s questions. There were times when we sat next to each other and I felt his knee nudge mine even though he appeared lost in thought, or gazing out the window. At a rural place between Querétaro and Mexico City, we witnessed a tragic scene that my mother implored my sisters to avoid watching. Ruben and I ran through the train and saw the atrocities. Men and women were hanged from trees and telephone poles along the train tracks. Their faces were distorted and looked deformed. Mama refused to discuss it, and told Ruben and me not to speak about it. Ruben refused to talk about the lynchings. But I kept insisting. Finally, on the last night before we reached Vera Cruz he talked about the lynchings. He said the people hanged were peons and dissidents who objected to their harsh treatment by the hacendados (wealthy landowners), caciques (political bosses), and Rurales (local constabulary). His eyes were moist with tears. The hangings were signs of growing discontent and anger against President Porfirio Diaz and his administration. The old tyrant ruled Mexico for 35 years as a despotic autocrat.

Anyone who protests their bad treatment is punished or killed, Ruben said, sullenly. I wanted to ask him questions, but he said no more.

* * *

We reached Vera Cruz on a warm afternoon and waited several days until our ship arrived. Mama hired local guides who helped us explore various parts of the old city. Accompanied by the bodyguards, we visited several historical sites, like the home of Hernan Cortez. When our ship docked, we boarded it and explored the top decks. My sisters and I played games and watched the stevedores unload cargo and take on new goods and provisions.

Our ship was a large Italian freighter that accommodated twenty passengers. There were three older couples aboard. My mother quickly met and befriended them. But Ruben kept to himself. I tried to talk with him, but he just shook his head and refused to say anything.

A day and a half later, the iron behemoth came to life when her engines started, and we felt the vibration of the mighty motors. The ship was guided away from the dock, caught the outgoing tide and moved slowly eastward. I stood near the stern and watched the lights of Vera Cruz fade while Ruben was near the bow, a sullen, solitary figure. As I watched Ruben during the voyage, there were times I thought he might throw himself overboard. It frightened me, and I finally spoke to Mama and mentioned it. She cupped my face in her hands and reassured me.

Thank you for telling me, she said. I will talk with Ruben later. For now, let him be.

Late one afternoon when Ruben was alone near the bow, Mama joined him. I could not make out their conversation, but what I saw surprised me. My mother allowed her hair to blow free in the wind and leaned against the side of the ship, facing Ruben. She appeared young, mysterious, almost as if she were a magical creature. She focused intently on him. I could not hear what she said, but my brother listened carefully. After a long pause, I saw them embrace. The way she soothed him reminded me of how she hugged my father, and how she comforted me and my siblings when we were injured or ill. I watched them stand together until it was dark. Mama kissed him on the lips and forehead, and together they walked toward the passengers’ quarters. That evening at dinner, Ruben was different. He smiled, and toward the end of the meal when someone told a funny story he winked at me. Later I told Mama about watching her and Ruben that night and how he changed for the better. She smiled, said Ruben was better, and would become an educated man and a gran caballero. She also said something that I never forgot.

I will expect the same of you, Luis.

* * *

Our freighter arrived at Cadiz, an old naval port in Spain, where my mother arranged excursions to different parts of the town. She hired a tour guide and a bodyguard to accompany us. That afternoon Don Miguel Xebec Granados de Jerez, a friend of my mother’s family in Spain, joined us. He was a tall, gracious, and friendly person, who made our brief stay in Cadiz comfortable and enjoyable. There was something elegant and refined about Don Miguel that distinguished him from other men. Mama said it was his upbringing as a caballero, which included private schooling and the best tutors available. He was a wealthy merchant and owned one of the finest sherry bodegas in Jerez, and a long-term business associate and friend of the Castellano de Calella family.

Our ship left Cadiz the next day, steamed south through the Straits of Gibraltar and turned northeast into the Mediterranean. Three days later, we arrived in the bustling port of Barcelona.

All of us were excited and anxious to meet our family in Spain. Ruben put his arm on my shoulder and said a grand adventure awaited us.

My mother’s family greeted us affectionately. Except for Don Adalberto’s brother Simon, a bishop in a wealthy region of Spain near Málaga, most of the family in Barcelona were there. We were greeted with open arms and treated with warmth and a genuine concern for our well-being. Ruben was immediately adopted by our male cousins. They spoke of our extended families in Spain, France, and Italy, and told us about Ruben’s new school. My sisters instantly became part of the female troupe and were regaled in the latest clothing styles, etiquette, and conversations of young women in Spain and the Catalan region. The women, especially the younger ones, embraced my sisters and asked endless questions about life in Guaymas. Artemisia and Consuelo were influenced by Rosalinda, a beautiful and adventuresome teen who became their best friend and constant companion. I enjoyed the company of my cousins, but for the most part, they focused on Ruben; but I was not neglected. I was always asked to be part of a game, an outing, or some other adventure. With a chaperone, I explored Barcelona.

A few days later, Bishop Simon arrived. He had a way about him that reflected accomplishment and the respect of others. He was soft-spoken and charming, but clearly favored my mother. I saw them walk together often and sit to talk in the shade of a large Camo tree in Don Adalberto’s atrium. They conversed in Catalan, which I could not understand, and in a manner that reflected mutual regard and affection.

One afternoon, when I returned from a visit to a cousin’s home, I walked into the garden and noticed Bishop Simon sitting under a large sycamore tree reading what looked like a Bible. He saw me, put down his book and motioned for me to join him. I did, and our meeting became a defining moment in my life.

Bishop Simon had a graceful manner that exuded charm and friendliness, qualities that put me at ease. He began by asking about my schooling and what subjects most interested me. I mentioned language, mathematics, science, and music. He asked if I played a musical instrument and I replied the piano. He smiled and motioned for me to continue. I told him Mama taught me to play the piano when I was seven, and later hired a piano teacher for me.

Do you enjoy playing the piano? he asked. I replied affirmatively. What do you like most about playing the piano? I hesitated before saying I liked playing duets with my mother. He nodded and asked about pieces of music and composers my mother and I liked to play together.

His method of questioning was casual and encouraging, a process that made me feel special and open to sharing things with him. He noticed me stare at his book and asked if I knew what it was. I replied that it looked like a Bible. He tilted his head back slightly, chuckled, and said, No, my son, it is my breviary. Do you know what a breviary is? I said I didn’t.

He briefly explained it contained the Latin liturgical rites of the Roman Catholic Church and included the public prayers, hymns, the Psalms, readings, and notations for everyday use. He mentioned some of the Catholic rites of public worship before asking if I was an altar boy. I replied that my training would begin on my return to Guaymas. He asked if I wanted him to coach me. I replied affirmatively, and he said we would begin the next morning. Then he changed the subject. Do you believe in God?

I nodded, but he wanted more than a simple nod.

What do you know about God? The question surprised me. He gently pressed me to explain what I knew about the Lord. I mentioned what had been taught at my catechism lessons. He gazed at me with an unwavering focus and said, Some of us feel God here, gently touching his heart with his right hand. It is a special feeling that makes us want to know more about God, his teachings, and his purpose for us in life. He did not pursue questions about God, but instead changed the subject to inquire about my schools. I mentioned the private Catholic school I attended and my music, mathematics, and science tutors. He asked if I knew the order of the priests who ran my school. I said I did not know.

They are Dominicans. Your mother told me. He looked up toward the sky and asked what I knew about the Dominicans. I confessed not knowing anything about them. He shifted slightly, thought for a moment before telling me that Dominicans were educators and preachers. They are priests, he told me, and they are known for teaching and the search for truth. My look of puzzlement caused him to grin. We have a few moments, he said. Dominicans helped establish the missions in Sonora, where you live, he said, and founded schools to teach people, especially the young.

I listened attentively to Bishop Simon. The way he talked enthralled me, and his explanations about orders in the Catholic Church intrigued me. I asked what kind of priest he was. He looked fondly at me, patted me on the shoulder and said he was a Salesian. I was about to ask him a question when he stood, grinned, and said he had an appointment.

Are you free to walk with me tomorrow afternoon?

I replied yes.

Then I will wait here for you around two o’clock tomorrow.

We parted, but my mind was filled with questions about his comments. And much to my surprise, I wanted to be with the bishop and learn more about him and the Catholic Church.

That evening, Mama asked to speak with me. We walked out to the garden and sat by the pool. The air was scented with jasmine. The water lilies were losing their blossoms, and I noticed the fish hide under them. The evening was warm, and my mother motioned for me to sit next to her. She said Bishop Simon had mentioned our conversation and how much he enjoyed talking with me.

He is a very wise and accomplished man. She paused and found my eyes. He told me you are special and that he wants to talk more with you.

I said the bishop was a smart man and knew so much about the Church.

We are going for a walk tomorrow afternoon, I volunteered.

My mother dipped her hand into the water and stirred it. She stared into the water as if she could read something there.

After you walk with the bishop, come and tell me what you talked about. I promised to do so. She hugged me and gazed into my eyes. It was a special moment, and I felt very close to her.

The next day after the bishop and I returned from our walk, I sat alone to contemplate what he told me. I tried hard to understand what he said so that I could share my thoughts and feelings with Mama. After dinner, Mama and I sat to talk. She motioned for me to begin. I started by saying I would miss Ruben very much. She nodded. I’d told Bishop Simon that Ruben was someone I looked up to, someone I could go to when I needed help or advice. But the bishop said now I had to look to my studies and begin to prepare for the future. It made me realize that I wanted to be like Ruben, prepared to meet whatever challenges life presented. I did not mention how I felt about returning to Guaymas and my schooling. Instead, I said I had not thought about what to do when I got home. I was grappling with changes and had questions about what was expected of me, and few solid leads on how to become a man. I told the bishop and Mama that I wanted to be educated, like Ruben. The bishop said Ruben and I were different, and it was important to act on the talents and gifts God gave me. My mother concurred with him.

Mama said Ruben would attend a fine academy in Spain before going to college.

Your father and I have plans for Ruben. He will become a gran caballero and a leader. We expect him to do well in school here in Spain and make all of us proud of him. Mama said Papa wanted Ruben to excel in everything he did, and that his schooling and education in Spain would prepare him for whatever career he selected.

Before we parted, my mother changed the subject and said, Luis, you must share some of what you’ve learned from the bishop with your father. He and I will help you become educated and prepare for a career. But your destiny in life is different from Ruben’s. We will help you find the path that leads to your calling. Our family here, Mama said with a sweep of her arm that indicated our family in Barcelona, and our people in Sonora, care about you and will be there to help whenever you need it. I accepted what she said even though I knew that Elpidio and Yolanda disliked Ruben, my sisters, and me.

Mama hugged me and said my schooling would change when we returned to Guaymas but did not elaborate. I was puzzled by what she said, but convinced myself to be patient. I did not know that she and the bishop had discussed a plan for my education; one that would affect what I might do in life.

That evening, Mama and I played Mozart’s Piano duet in C Major after dinner. We had practiced it for several months until I could keep up with her playing. She was a very accomplished and talented pianist and her playing made my less challenging parts shine. After we finished, the audience of family and friends cheered and clapped. Afterward, Don Adalberto and the bishop praised my musical talent and said I should continue with the piano. The bishop suggested I learn to play the organ.

Before I went to bed, Ruben approached; he hugged and encouraged me to keep practicing and playing the piano. I said Bishop Simon suggested I learn how to play the organ. He said it was a good idea. He mentioned how much he would miss me and said we should write. I promised to do so. Two days later, my mother and sisters and I waved to Ruben and to our family on the dock as our ship pulled away for the return voyage to Mexico. I was crying, and I could tell that Ruben was doing everything possible to hide his sadness and tears. I stood at the railing of the ship and watched until Barcelona disappeared into the sea. I missed my brother.

Chapter 3

A Journey of Discovery

The most beautiful thing we can experience

is the mysterious.

—Albert Einstein, What I Believe (1930)

It was the conversations with my mother and my sister Artemisia during the voyage home that surfaced and fleshed out the thoughts and impressions I had of Spain and Barcelona. They helped me vocalize my feelings, and together we discovered and distilled what we experienced and why it had affected all of us so profoundly. I envied Ruben because he would amalgamate his life experiences in Sonora with innovative ideas and ways to learn in Spain. I wanted the same, but was not yet ready to tell my parents. Instead, Guaymas beckoned because there everything was familiar. But the thought of confronting Elpidio without Ruben to protect me was worrisome.

I told Mama about Bishop Simon’s suggestion that I learn to play the organ. She agreed. I also said I wanted to become an altar boy as soon as we got home. I wanted to ask about my schooling, but her previous comments were clear that Papa needed to be consulted. So, during the voyage home my anticipation grew with the realization that once back in Guaymas important decisions about schooling and other matters relevant to my learning awaited.

* * *

During our time on the Atlantic Ocean, my sisters and I marveled at the expanse of water and the limitless horizon. Together we watched the sun migrate from east to west until it was consumed by a dark sea. At night the sky was crowded with the blinking lights of stars. One evening we listened to the ship’s pilot point out different stars and constellations by which mariners navigated. He pointed out the North Star and the major constellations visible in the Northern Hemisphere and told us that south of the Equator, the stars and constellations were different. We asked him numerous questions about the stars and constellations, and he answered them patiently and easily. It was a new learning experience for me.

I asked my sisters about their experience in Barcelona. They told me how loving our family was, and how they were embraced and made to feel at home. They experienced new ideas, new perspectives, and began to think about what they wanted out of life. The trip to Spain had changed us and expanded our horizons.

The following day, our ship labored through a vigorous gale that lasted well into the night. The high winds and whitecapped swells caused the ship to plunge and roll heavily through the turbulent sea. Most of us were seasick and welcomed the calmer water encountered at daybreak. Before the noon hour the ocean was serene, like the placid waters of a lake. The few of us who had recovered from mal de mer walked around the ship, played games, and occasionally stood at the railing close to the bow to watch our freighter press westward across a cobalt sea. At dinner that evening, the captain told us we would arrive at Vera Cruz late in the afternoon of the following day. We were elated.

I hardly slept that evening, my mind filled with thoughts of what I’d experienced in Spain, Ruben’s separation from us, and what lie ahead in Guaymas. It was well after midnight when I finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Artemisia’s hand on my shoulder woke me.

Time to get up, sleepy head, she said. Mama wants all of us to have breakfast together.

I barely managed to sit up, still groggy from sleep.

Did you hear me?

I nodded and mumbled that I was awake. She ruffled my hair affectionately, told me to get cleaned up, dressed, and hurry to the ship’s mess.

When I arrived at our table, the first officer was there talking with my mother. He handed her a message from the ship’s wireless operator and told us our two companions (she meant the bodyguards) waited at Vera Cruz and that Uncle Rodolfo would meet us in Mexico City.

It was almost nine in the evening when we disembarked at Vera Cruz and were greeted by our bodyguards. Under their careful supervision we were driven to our hotel, where dinner was available. They handed my mother two telegrams from Papa. The first was a greeting that told us how much he missed us, and that soon we would be together in Guaymas. He mentioned that Don Adalberto sent a cable that mentioned Ruben was in school and wished us well. The second contained instructions for Mama to visit a nearby bank and withdraw funds he had deposited for her. He mentioned that our bodyguards had our tickets and would arrange for us to catch the train.

The next morning passed quickly and our train was almost two hours late departing. For us, the train trip was the end of a great adventure, and a reminder that Ruben was thousands of miles away in another country. I more than my sisters missed Ruben and wondered what life in Guaymas would be like without him, especially because of Elpidio’s animosity toward me.

Along the way to Mexico City, the train was forced to stop because of damage to the rails or attacks along the railhead by bandits. We learned that the attacks were, for the most part, by loosely organized groups of insurrectionists striking military supply trains. Shortly before we arrived in Mexico City, our train halted while the tracks ahead were repaired.

Halfway to Mexico City a young man boarded the train, who was well-educated and friendly. He told us he was a writer and on his way to Mexico City to work for a newspaper. Through him we learned about a few well-educated liberals writing and speaking out about the need for change in Mexico. Artemisia and I pleaded with Mama to let our young friend tell us more about the liberals. But she used guarded words to explain that it was not prudent to discuss politics on the train. It was a warning that Mama repeated even though I knew she agreed with the young man and his ideas to achieve a better form of democracy in Mexico. I asked one of our bodyguards to explain what the liberals wanted and he smiled, and whispered, revolution. The way he said the word and the look in his eyes surprised me. I wanted to ask him about revolution but he shook his head and said no more. He knew more than he was willing to share about the turmoil and ferment among the poor in Mexico. I tried to speak with my mother about the rumors we kept hearing about the dissatisfaction among the peons and others, but she said it was best not to talk about such matters, especially on the train and in the dining car. When I pressed her about this and asked if there would be a revolution, Mama looked surprised and cautioned me never to use that word in public.

In Mexico City we changed trains and met Uncle Rodolfo. He was delighted to see us; he hugged my sisters, and gave me a firm abrazo. He bowed politely to my mother and handed her a letter from Papa.

You have been missed, he said in a soft voice. As we walked to our train, I noticed many armed men intently watching people and passengers in the train station. I did not recall seeing so many men with guns before. I asked Uncle Rodolfo about this, and in a serious tone he replied that we should not discuss it now. Besides, he said, we need to make certain your luggage is put on our train for Querétaro. After our bags were transferred, we went to a nearby restaurant. During the meal Uncle Rodolfo asked questions about our journey, about Spain, and about my mother’s family in Barcelona. My sisters and I tried to respond to his questions at the same time. However, Mama interceded and had us respond one at a time about the experience on the ships, and during our stay with the family in Barcelona. Artemisia and I tried to share so much about Spain that Mama told us to be patient and wait for our turn to speak. We boarded the train and settled in our seats. When the train moved away from the station, the darkness engulfed us.

That evening, the rhythmic sound of the train wheels on the rails lulled me into a pacific sleep. I woke in the night when the train stopped to take on water. I looked out the window and saw darkness punctuated by a few lights from lamps and small fires, the only indicators that people lived there. After the train gained speed, I relaxed and went back to sleep. Our trip to Guadalajara was interrupted by a few unscheduled stops necessitated by repair work to the tracks ahead and to a damaged trestle. We arrived several hours late, but still had sufficient time to catch our train north to Guaymas. Our expectations increased because we were on the last part of our journey and would soon be home.

* * *

Our homecoming in Guaymas was a time of celebration and unexpected developments. Elpidio was in Mexico City to complete his last year of college. And Yolanda, now married and living in Durango with her husband, was with child. Papa was elated to see us, and openly showed affection for Mama that indicated how much he missed her. There were parties at our home and in the homes of my uncles to celebrate our return. All through the various festivities, I missed Ruben.

A few days after