border, the only thing distinguishing one place from the other, had been imposed by humans alone. Adults were always judging one another based on appearance, religion, skin color, or wealth. Children were not like that. For them, everyone was equal, and they hardly noticed differences between peers.
Jacob heard footsteps on the gravel behind him and turned quickly, assuming Moses had woken up and was hungry for breakfast. Instead, he found himself looking into the round face and small, square-framed glasses of a priest who was studying him with evident curiosity.
“I’ve never found a sunrise as beautiful as in Molló,” the man said with a light, elegant voice.
Jacob did not understand Spanish, though in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon he had picked up some basic phrases with the help of some Spanish-speaking friends.
“I’m sorry, Father. I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Jacob answered in French.
The priest switched to a very rudimentary French, but it was enough for Jacob to understand.
“I saw the other boy sleeping. You are alone? You spent the night outside?”
Jacob was not sure how he should answer. Could he trust this man, or would he go to the authorities?
“I won’t do anything to you. I just want to help,” the priest said.
Jacob crossed his arms. He knew they would need help getting to Barcelona but did not know how far away it was. Perhaps an entire day’s drive. Yet he intended for them to keep their distance from the Spaniards, who were likely to turn them in. Jacob had heard that Franco’s government was allied with the Germans and that the Spanish police had turned any number of Jews over to the French authorities.
“We’re traveling to Barcelona. We need to catch a ship to Argentina,” he finally said, continuing in French.
“And when does the ship sail?” the priest asked. He pulled a cap out of the pocket of his cassock and put it on, then checked his pocket watch.
“In two days, from the port in Barcelona.”
The priest was intrigued. “You don’t have much time. Why are you going to Argentina?”
“Our parents are there,” Jacob said. He started to relax, sensing the man was sincere.
“I can get you to Vic, and from there you can take a bus. I think they only leave in the mornings, so you’ll have to spend the night in the city. I know some nuns who would let you stay the night. I’d like to do more, but I need to get back by the afternoon, to celebrate the mass. There’s no one who can take my place.”
Moses woke and stretched and rubbed his eyes, still dazed by sleep.
“This is my brother, Marcel,” Jacob said, using the names on their passport.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Marcel. I’m Father Fermín.”
Moses shook hands and then, with a moment’s pause, declared, “I’m hungry.”
“Well, we can take care of that,” the priest said. He returned to the entryway of the church. The priest set their suitcases inside and then walked the boys to a nearby café.
“Jordi, please bring breakfast for three,” he said in Spanish.
A few minutes later the waiter brought two glasses of milk, one cup of coffee, and a tray of something that looked like long, fried sticks.
“What’s that?” Moses asked.
The priest smiled and said, “Churros.” Jacob and Moses soon discovered the universal appeal of churros and gobbled up every last one of them.
The priest sipped his coffee, softened with cream. When the boys were satisfied, he led them to his car. “I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving them to wait in the car. He retrieved their suitcases, then locked the church, rolled up the sleeves of his cassock, and sat behind the wheel. The car was an old, beat-up 1927 Fiat that threatened to fall apart if its occupants breathed too deeply. It started with strange popping noises, black smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe.
“She’s old and it’s hard to find gas for her, but don’t worry—she’ll get us to Vic. I don’t think she’d make it to Barcelona,” the priest said.
The boys remained silent for the whole ride. The priest kept his word and took them to the convent in the middle of the city. He parked at the entrance and helped them with their suitcases, then knocked at the wooden door. It looked like it had been closed for centuries, but they heard footsteps, then the rattling of keys, and finally the heavy door creaked open.
“Sister Clara, I’ve brought two boys who need somewhere to stay tonight. Early tomorrow they need to take the bus