Bartolomé by Rachel vanKooij Read Free Book Online Page A

school?’
    Joaquín paced up and down. It irritated him that his fine plans were being destroyed by harsh reality. There had to be a way that Bartolomé could learn to read and write. Joaquín wondered if he could ask his father to send him to school in the afternoons. Then he could secretly pass on his knowledge to Bartolomé. On the other hand, he really didn’t feel like spending his time at school after working hard. And anyway, a school like that would cost a lot. Definitely more than his father could afford.
    But Bartolomé had been infected by Joaquín’s plan.
    â€˜Maybe Ana could go to school in my place?’
    â€˜Papa definitely wouldn’t pay to educate a girl,’ Joaquín replied.
    Bartolomé hung his head in disappointment. His crooked shoulders crumpled. He tried not to cry in front of Joaquín. A sob escaped him all the same.
    Joaquín paused and looked down at him. Up to now, he’d been thinking more about himself than about his poor crippled brother. He began to realise what it must be like for him in the little room and that his plan meant much more to Bartolomé than to himself. He gave him a quick hug.
    â€˜Bartolomé, I promise you that you will learn to read and write,’ he whispered.

Don Cristobal
    FOR the next few days, Bartolomé was bursting with impatience. He could hardly wait to see Joaquín. In the afternoons, he sat in the little back bedroom. He listened intently, his ear to the door, to hear the quick footsteps of his brother on the stairs. Joaquín was aware how much faith Bartolomé was putting in him and decided to let Ana in on the plan. Maybe she would be able to think of a way to find a teacher for Bartolomé.
    â€˜But Papa mustn’t get wind of it,’ he warned her.
    Ana nodded. ‘He won’t allow it,’ she said, ‘because nobody is allowed to see Bartolomé.’
    â€˜And I can’t think either where we are going to get the money to pay for lessons,’ declared Joaquín.
    â€˜If we let Mama in on the plan, she’d be able to help by saving on the housekeeping,’ Ana said. She had noticed that Isabel was worried about Bartolomé, because he had got so quiet and sad. Now his eyes were shining again.
    â€˜We won’t tell her until I have found a teacher,’ Joaquín decided. ‘She might forbid us, on account of Papa.’
    Joaquín’s search ran into a blind alley almost immediately. Anyone who was able to read and write had no time for teaching, or demanded a lot of money to teach this fine art.
    When Joaquín noticed one day that Bartolomé’s eyes had dulled again, he made his mind up. After work, he went to the Franciscan monastery and knocked. An old monk, bare-footed and wearing a simple brown habit, opened the gate. Joaquín excused himself shyly. He couldn’t think how to put his request into words.
    â€˜My son, what can I do for you?’ asked the monk kindly.
    â€˜My name is Joaquín Carrasco, and I have a request,’ said Joaquín bashfully.
    â€˜Of God or of me, Joaquín?’
    â€˜Of you, Father.’
    The monk nodded and waited patiently. He seemed to have all the time in the world.
    â€˜My brother, Bartolomé … he needs to learn to read and write,’ Joaquín stammered.
    â€˜This isn’t a school, Joaquín.’
    â€˜I know. But my father would never send him to school.’
    â€˜Your father probably has other plans for your brother. As a son, you should not question your father’s decisions.’
    Joaquín looked into the monk’s kindly face. ‘I know, Father, but …’ He was ashamed to say what he had to say. He had never before said a bad word about his father. ‘Forgive me, Father, but my father locks Bartolomé in a back bedroom. Bartolomé sits there like a prisoner, and no outsider is allowed to see him.’
    Don Cristobal, for that was the