“Yes.” Vincente glanced at the house and porch. “After Rafael left, they gave it to me, and I have lived here ever since.”
Ramos sensed that there was much more to the story, but with Vincente’s lips tightly closed, it was clear that the old man wasn’t in the mood to share. Still, Ramos couldn’t let him off that easily.
“Is there anything else you could tell me about him?”
Vincente sucked in a breath, then narrowed his gaze at Ramos, as if trying to decide how much to tell him. With a sigh, he glanced away and stared into the distance. From his rigid features, Ramos knew he was lost in the past. Then Vincente shook his head. “It is better to leave some things alone.”
Ramos sighed, unhappy that Vincente wasn’t willing to say more. But he figured there had to be a good reason. “Thanks for speaking with me, and for the drink.”
Vincente nodded and glanced at Ramos with undisguised interest. “You look just like him,” he said, surprising Ramos with his candor. Then he took another swallow of the amber liquid and stood, holding the cigar between his fingers. “How long will you be here in Cuba?”
“Another day, two at the most.”
Vincente nodded. Then, keeping his gaze focused in the distance, he spoke. “I might have something that belonged to Rafael.” He glanced at Ramos. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow…around noon? I’ll see if I can find it for you.”
“Sure,” Ramos agreed, and waited for Vincente to tell him more.
Instead, Vincente nodded and motioned Ramos toward the gate. “Good. I’ll see you then.”
Dismissed, Ramos walked to the street, feeling Vincente’s gaze drilling a hole into his back. As he closed the gate, he glanced back at the house, but the porch stood empty. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the street until the house was out of sight. Then he paused and shook his head.
There was more to the story than Vincente had told him, and somewhere deep inside, he knew it wasn’t good. Vincente’s keen observation had recognized how much Ramos resembled Rafael. Would he put it together that Rafael was his father and not a cousin?
Now Vincente wanted Ramos to come back tomorrow. Did he really have something of his father’s to give him? Or was there some other reason? From what he’d learned, he had a sinking feeling that Vincente knew more about his father’s disappearance. Was he involved?
Ramos checked his watch. At six-forty, he decided it wasn’t too late to take a chance of finding someone home at the other address. Using the directions from his phone, he began to walk deeper into The Vedado, and passed several mansions.
Some were in bad condition. They were falling apart and empty, which seemed strange. Others were in various stages of renovation. With some, the bottom level had been re-finished, but the top was in total disrepair. He realized that different families lived in each level, and it was easy to see which ones had more money.
Another mansion he passed had an eating establishment that covered the front lawn. Strings of lights crisscrossed over the tables, and people enjoyed all kinds of food. It reminded him that he had missed his dinner, but he was too close to stop now. He rounded the corner and paused. In front of him was the home he’d been looking for.
This mansion had three levels, which all looked about the same as far as repairs went. A large, double door marked the entrance, and several people sat outside on the steps. Ramos approached them and asked them in Spanish for the Ramirez family. A woman watching her three children told him they were on the third level and moved out of his way so he could go inside the building.
He found the graffiti-painted, central staircase and climbed to the third floor. A bright blue door awaited him at the top, and he took a breath before knocking. He heard sounds of running feet before the door flew open, and a small child stood in front of him. In Spanish, Ramos asked to speak to the child’s mother, and the kid took off down the hall, leaving the door wide open.
A few minutes later, a woman who looked a few years younger than him came to the door. She glanced at Ramos, taking in his size, and alarm spread over her features. Continuing in Spanish, Ramos told her he was looking for the relatives of Rafael Ramirez.
The woman’s brows drew together at the mention of that name. “Are you from America?” she asked in English.
“Yes,” he said, relieved that she spoke English. “Rafael Ramirez is my father.” He’d never said that out loud to anyone, but it felt like the right thing to say.
The woman’s breath caught, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Come in.” She took hold of Ramos’s arm and pulled him inside, then firmly shut the door. “Please come with me.”
He followed her into a large living room painted in jewel tones with magenta on the walls and green potted plants in the corners. The marble floor shone from the golden hues of the sunset streaming through the large windows which overlooked the street, and something familiar unfurled in his memory. He’d been here before.
The woman glanced at him. “Stay here.” She walked to the doorway that led into a kitchen and paused, not willing to let Ramos out of her sight. “Mama! Come quickly!”
He heard a muttered response from the other room, and a smattering of Spanish, before more footsteps sounded on the marble floor. Soon, a petite woman stood in the doorway holding a metal bowl she’d been wiping with a towel. Her dark gaze focused on Ramos, and her eyes widened with surprise.
“Rafael?” The bowl slipped from her fingers and clanged onto the floor, but she hardly noticed. Her breath hitched, and she took a couple of faltering steps toward him before she stopped and reason kicked in.
She shook her head, and Ramos worried that she might faint, so he closed the distance between them, taking her arm, and helping her sit on the couch. “I’m his son, Alejandro.”
She shook her head in wonder, then reached up to touch his cheeks. “I never thought…I’m your Aunt Rosalyn, Rafael’s sister.” Her face broke into a smile, and tears filled her eyes. “I used to babysit you, but you probably don’t remember. I can’t believe it! How did you find us?”
“It’s a long story,” he said. “I didn’t even know you existed until a few months ago.”
“Why? Didn’t your parents…what happened to all of you?”
Ramos took a breath, sure that his story would bring her pain, even if she needed to know. “Not long after we arrived in the states, my father left for work one day and never returned. He just…disappeared. I only found out a few months ago that he’d been brought back to Cuba against his will, so I came to find out what had happened to him.”
Her eyes clouded over with sorrow, and she let out a breath. “So he’s been missing all this time?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “We never heard from him, but I thought maybe the authorities had kept his letters from us. We always thought you were alive and well. But later…I wondered why nothing ever came, especially after our parents died. Are you sure he was brought back here?”
“It looks that way.” As far as he was concerned, nothing had ever gone well for his family, not since his father had disappeared, and probably not before that either.
“Your mother, Isabel? And your brother, Javier? Are they…”
Ramos sucked in a breath. “Javier is fine, but my mother died a long time ago.”
“Oh…that is…I’m so sorry. Poor Isabel. And Rafael…both of them…gone.” She closed her eyes and swallowed, then pulled herself together and caught his gaze. “And you? Things are well with you?”
“I’m good.” That came out more sharply than he’d intended, but Rosalyn just nodded her head. Then she smiled.
“I can’t believe you are here. To find you after so long. It’s a miracle.” She glanced at her daughter and the two little boys who stood beside her. “Let me introduce you to your cousin and her children. This is Amara and her sons, Cedro and Rudi.”
After they said hello to each other, Rosalyn turned to him. “Have you eaten? W
e just finished up our dinner, but we have plenty of food. Please…come into the kitchen. I’ll fix you a plate and we can talk. I want to hear all about you and your life in the states.”
That was the last thing Ramos wanted to tell her, but he was willing to go along with whatever she said. It was a lot to take in, and he could hardly believe he’d found his family. Entering the kitchen brought a brief feeling of familiarity, especially coupled with the smells of a home-cooked meal.
He took a seat at the kitchen table and observed the family’s interactions. Rosalyn wore a purple-and-blue plaid apron over a blue shirt and slacks. She took charge of the food while Amara finished cleaning up the dishes.
The boys went back to playing with their toys. Cedro held a small plane in his hand and flew it around the room making engine-sounding noises. Rudi pushed his plane across the floor to take off into the air. They spoke to each other in Spanish, but Amara insisted they use English out of politeness to Ramos. She sent a happy smile his way and, for the first time since he’d come to Cuba, he felt like he belonged.
The boys took turns showing him their toys, and flew them all around the room in a competition that soon turned into a fight. Amara broke it up, then sent them to their room, threatening them with a bath if they didn’t do as they were told.
Rosalyn brought over a huge plate of food and set it in front of Ramos. She handed him a knife and fork and told him to eat, then bustled off to get him something to drink. He dug into the food, enjoying the taste of the black beans and quinoa topped with spicy chicken, surrounded by fried, spicy bananas and mangos.
He had eaten half the food on his plate before he realized that he hadn’t spoken a word. He glanced up to find Amara gone, and Rosalyn smiling with approval at his appetite. “This is really good. Thank you.”
She nodded and continued to push a rag across the spotless counter. As he finished eating every crumb of food from his plate, Rosalyn poured them both a cup of coffee and set the cups down on the table with a carafe of milk and a bowl of sugar. She whisked his plate away to the sink and then sat down beside him. He leaned back in his chair. With his stomach full and satisfied, he smiled at her. “Best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Rosalyn said. She shook her head. “I still can’t get over how much you look like Rafael. It’s so good to have you here.” Her eyes got misty, and she placed her hand on his arm, patting him with affection. “How’s Javier?”
Ramos smiled, relieved that this was a subject he could talk about. Even though he hadn’t spoken to Javier in ten years, he was grateful to know enough about him to sound like they had a relationship. It was easy to speak with pride of his brother’s accomplishments.
Before she could ask him about himself, he changed the subject. “I need to ask you something. There was another address in the file they had on my father. It was listed as Rafael’s home, so I went there first.”
Rosalyn’s smile faded, and her expression turned hard. “Did you talk to them?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Did you tell them who you were?”
“Not quite. I told them that my father was Rafael’s cousin, but Vincente said I looked just like Rafael, so I don’t know if it fooled him.”
Rosalyn took a deep breath and let it out. “They were good friends once…Vincente and Rafael.”
“What happened? He wouldn’t tell me.”
“What did he say?”
“Only that they were friends, but Rafael left, and he hadn’t seen him since.”
She shook her head and frowned, reluctant to speak of the past. “I suppose it’s only right that you know the truth. Things went bad between them after the downfall of the Soviet Union. You have to understand that Cuba lost the Soviet subsidies we needed, and our economy collapsed. Because of that, all the government agencies were forced to cut back on many of the social services that we depended on.
“It got so bad that our food had to be rationed. We had constant electricity blackouts, and surpluses of everything disappeared. People suffered starvation and hardship. Do you know what Castro called it?”
Ramos shook his head, knowing it was a rhetorical question.
“A Special Period in Times of Peace.” Rosalyn lowered her voice. “What a joke. A few changes were made, but it wasn’t enough, and people were ready for something different…a new way of life. One of them was your father. As a member of the military, he saw first-hand how they were taking over the economy and creating a base of power for Raul Castro and his closest deputies, all while letting the people starve.
“So he began to speak out against the regime. A few friends joined him, then the word spread to others, and he gained a small following which began to grow into a movement. After a few months, some prominent people in the Cuban-American community got wind of his crusade and wanted to send money to get the word out. They even got the U.S. government involved.”
She glanced at Ramos and shook her head. “It got him into trouble. Everyone distrusted the U.S. government, so it did him no good to take their money. It just escalated to the point where he was suspected of wanting the collapse of the Cuban government for his own gain.”
She shook her head. “That was never his intention, but certain people saw it that way. They accused him of starting a rebellion so he could put himself in a place of power.”
Ramos caught her gaze. “Let me guess…Vincente was one of them?”
She nodded, and her lips turned down with loathing. “I believe so. I think at first he supported Rafael. They had even made a plan together, but Vincente must have changed his mind.” She whispered this so quietly that Ramos had to lean forward to hear her better.
“It wasn’t long before someone brought Rafael to the attention of the government as the ringleader of the dissenters, and the regime planned to arrest him. Luckily, Rafael got wind of it and warned the others in his group. That night, he packed you all up and left for the states, using some of the money he’d obtained from a friend there. He told me he was leaving and begged me not to tell anyone so our family wouldn’t be punished.
“But, in the end, we lost our standing in the community. Your home belonged to your mother’s family, and it was given away to someone more…deserving.”
“Vincente,” Ramos said.
Rosalyn nodded. “My father was spat upon for having a traitor for a son, even though he had served in the military for the revolution, but at least we were able to keep this place. Times were bad, but we always hoped that your family had escaped to a better life.
“We waited to hear from Rafael, but nothing ever came. We did get news from your mother’s family that you had arrived and were safe, but they never spoke to us after that. We lost touch, and I’m not even sure what happened to them.”
Ramos shook his head, troubled by this bleak picture. “After my father disappeared, a man helped us move from Miami to Orlando. In the file, it says that he was with Rafael and witnessed his kidnapping. Apparently, he barely escaped himself.”
Rosalyn’s eyes widened with horror. “You’re sure Rafael was kidnapped?”
Ramos shrugged. “That’s what the file says. Maybe he was killed that night. But if they brought him back to Cuba, then where is he? That’s why I’m here. I need to find out what happened to him.”
Rosalyn caught his gaze and shook her head. “No. You should stay out of it.”
“But what if he’s in prison somewhere?”
“He’s not,” she said sharply. “He can’t be.” Torment filled her eyes. “That long in prison? I can’t bear to think of him suffering for so long.”
“Then you think he’s dead?” Ramos narrowed his eyes. “A life sentence for being a traitor isn’t unusual.”
“Traitors are hanged,” she said. “There is no life sentence for that.”
He glanced away, sorry he had upset her. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. He made a move to stand, but Rosalyn grabbed his arm. “Please. Don’t g
o. I’m fine. This has just been a shock.”
He sat back in his chair and patted her hand. “I’m sorry to have upset you. I didn’t mean to bring you pain.”
“You have not brought me pain, querido. You are here, sitting in my kitchen, eating my food. It is wonderful. It’s like having my brother back again. You are my family. You are my flesh and blood. Don’t apologize for that.”
A burst of warmth flooded Ramos’s chest, and his eyes got misty. He blinked a few times and changed the subject. “Uh…tell me about Amara and the kids.”
A smile brightened her face, and she sat back in her chair. She spoke about her daughter’s family and stood to wash the dishes he had used. Ramos helped out by drying them, and he enjoyed hearing about the escapades of his cousin’s children.
“We have a good life here,” Rosalyn said. “Amara’s husband is a chef, and he has a permit to run a restaurant that caters to all the tourists. He also has family in the states. We’ve thought about immigrating someday, but we’ll see.” She shrugged. “Cuba is our home.”
Finished with clearing up, Rosalyn poured them both another cup of coffee, and they sat back down at the table. Amara soon joined them, happy to have the boys tucked into bed.
Ramos checked his watch, surprised it had gotten so late. “It’s almost ten o’clock,” he said. “I should go.”
“No!” Rosalyn exclaimed. “Not yet. Stay a little longer. You haven’t told us about yourself. We want to hear all about your life. What do you do?”
Ramos swore in his mind, but managed not to grimace too much. “I’m a security specialist for an investment firm. It’s really not all that interesting, although they just sent me to Miami a few days ago. I got done with the job early, so that’s why I’m here.”
“And is there a woman in your life?” Amara asked. Rosalyn shushed her, but he could tell that she wanted to know just as much as Amara did.
“Not at the moment,” he said, being as vague as possible.