“And I like you very much.” She squeezed my hand.
Well, nobody was using the four-letter L-word. But it was out there. And I knew from the Army that hurried wartime romances lead to what seems like love, and half the men and women I knew in the Army who returned to duty from a pre-deployment leave had gotten married—or engaged, as I did. Then when you returned from overseas, reality set in.
Sara asked, “Do you have a confession to make?”
“I’m unattached, as I said.”
“But you have women.”
“Not for awhile.”
“Why have you never married?”
I sat up in bed and glanced at the bedside clock: 5:34.
“Mac?”
“I’ve had a complicated life.”
“Engaged?”
“Once. How about you?”
She sat up. “I’ve never found the right man.”
I didn’t reply.
“Would you like to change the subject?”
“I would.”
She turned on the lamp. “What would you like to talk about?”
Coffee. But there was something else on my mind. “While we’re being honest with each other, I want you to tell me if there’s more to this trip to Cuba than I’ve been told.”
“What do you mean?”
“More than the money.”
She hesitated a second, then replied, “There is.” She added, “You’re very smart.”
“Okay. And?”
“And I will tell you when you need to know.”
“I need to know now.”
“The less you know now, the better.”
“No, the more I know—”
“What you don’t know you can’t reveal under torture.”
That was a little jarring at 5:30. I almost wanted to return to the subject of love. “Okay, but—”
“I’ll tell you this—you’ll be very pleased with the other reason we’re here. And that’s all I’m saying.”
“Okay . . . breakfast in bed?”
“We need to get back to our hotel.” She got out of bed, went to the bar, and opened her shoulder bag, pulling out a wad of pesos.
I said, “That’s okay. No charge.”
She smiled and took out a piece of paper and gave it to me. “I made a photocopy of the map in the hotel business office.” She looked at me. “If anything happens to me, you should be able to follow that to the cave.”
I turned on my lamp and glanced at the map, which was like a child’s drawing of a pirate treasure map. But the directions written on the bottom in English seemed clear if you started in the right place. The map was titled, “A great hike through the Camagüey Mountains.”
“As I told you, I’ve altered it slightly, and I’ll explain it to you later.”
“Okay.”
“Also, our Havana contact will give us a good road map for Camagüey. I assume that as a former infantry officer, you have good map skills.”
“That’s what I got paid for.”
“Good. I trust you, Mac. I know you’ll do the right thing, even without me.”
I looked at her, standing naked in the lamplight. “I will do my best.”
I got out of bed, went to the window, and looked out at the starlit Straits of Florida. Sara came up behind me, wrapped her arms around my chest, and put her chin on my shoulder. She said, “Just as I saw the green flash, I can also see our boat, sailing across the water, with Jack and Felipe in the cabin, and you and I sitting on the bow, looking at the horizon as Key West comes into sight. The sun is coming up. Can you see that?”
I could, and I couldn’t. But I said, “Yes, I can see that.”
“Our mission is blessed. You are blessed. Just as you returned twice from Afghanistan, you will return home from Cuba.”
Unless God was getting tired of covering my ass.
* * *
Sara ran a comb through her damp hair and put on a little lip gloss. Low maintenance. We got dressed, left the room, and rode down in the elevator. I dropped the key off at the desk, and the same clerk glanced at Sara, then asked me, “How was your stay, se?or?”
Should I beat my chest? Or let out a Tarzan scream? “Fine.”
“Breakfast is being served in the Veranda.”
“Thank you, I’ve eaten.”
Sara and I left the hotel. The sun was up and the air was already steamy. I suggested we walk to our hotel—or swing from tree to tree—but Sara said it was more than a mile to the Parque Central, and we should take a taxi so we’d get there before our group started coming down for breakfast.
“But I want everyone to see us staggering into the hotel together.”
“I’m sure you do.” She said to the doorman, “Taxi, por favor.”
The only transportation available was a Coco cab, an open, three-wheeled Lambretta-type vehicle that reminded me of the ones in Kabul. We got into the rear seat, and off we went through the quiet streets of Havana. Sara said, “This is romantic.”
I could see the pavement through the rusted floorboards.
There wasn’t much traffic on this Saturday morning, but there were a lot of people walking, and the city looked spectral in the morning mist. This place totally sucked, but it was starting to grow on me.
Sara put her arm through mine and said, “I’m sorry I lied to you about the boyfriend. But I’ll never lie to you again.”
“And don’t lie to him.”
“I’ll try to call him from the hotel phone.”
“It can wait until you get back to Miami.”
“I want to do it now . . . in case I don’t get back.”
“In that case, it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes . . . but . . . it’s the right thing to do. Even if you cheat, you shouldn’t lie.”
Really? I thought lying and cheating went together. But maybe Catholics needed to confess. “Let’s decide tomorrow.”
We got to the Parque Central and entered together. The breakfast room was just opening, but I didn’t see anyone from our group. “Coffee?”
“No. I don’t want to be seen with you wearing the same dress I wore last night.”
“Who cares?”
“I do. And you need to change.”
“I need coffee.”
“I’ll see you later.” She went to the elevators.
I walked into the breakfast room and ran into Antonio at the coffee bar. “Buenos días,” he said. “I was looking for you and Miss Ortega last night in Floridita.”
Really? Why? “We took your advice and walked on the Malecón.”
“Ah, good. Did you enjoy that?”
“I did.” I scanned the tables and saw an empty one near a sunny window. “See you later.”
“Yes, for the walking tour. But you don’t need a sports jacket.”
“Actually, we just got back to the hotel.”
“Yes, I saw you come in. I hope your evening was beautiful.”
“It was, and now I’m going to have a beautiful cup of coffee.”
“Don’t let me keep you.”
“I won’t.”
I got a cup of coffee and sat at the table near the window.
Antonio also sat by himself and made a cell phone call. I was annoyed that he had service and I didn’t. Antonio hung up and took some papers from his shoulder bag. Today’s itinerary? Or his police informant’s report? The man was an asshole. Maybe worse—a chivato.
But the world looked a little different this morning, and I was as close to happy as I’d been in awhile.