Cuba Blue (32 page)
Authors: Robert W. Walker
“Too much rum is the only excuse for bad poetry,” Qui announced. “Time for bed!”
JZ looked around and asked, “Where’s the couch? I was going to take the couch. You take the bed.”
“There is no couch, JZ.”
“Hmmmm…then it appears that I’ll take the floor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re both adult enough to share a bed without anything happening!”
“Are you sure?” he asked, ever the gentleman.
“I’m sure,” she smiled at him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
“
We’ll just sleep in our clothes.”
“You under the covers, me over?” he added.
“Yeah, that way, nothing happens, right?”
“And if nothing happens…”
“Right, we don’t have to worry ‘bout…you know…”
“Things getting complicated?”
She smiled and nodded, adding, “Who needs complications.”
“Emotional entanglements,” he said, nodding.
“Right.”
Taking off shoes, each found space on the small bed. She crawled beneath the sheets, and he remained atop.
“But you know, Qui,” he began, “I like the way we are together.”
“You mean the way we dance?”
“That and the way we kiss.” He pulled up on one elbow to look into her eyes and features. “You’re a beautiful woman, Qui Aguilera.”
“The way I look? No makeup, exhausted, my hair all over the place—wild from dancing?”
“You look absolutely natural, beautiful.” He kissed Qui on the lips, pulled back and smiled.
“Hmmm.” She pulled him to her, returning his kiss.
Each felt the heat from the other coming through the sheet and through their clothing. They continued kissing, exploring. Soon, somehow, the blanket fell to the floor, followed by Qui’s blouse and JZ’s shirt. Their hands began exploring as they continued to kiss. Their remaining clothing proved no obstacle to either their enjoyment or their foreplay. In fact, tracing the boundary where skin disappeared beneath clothing made each shiver in anticipation of more touch. Unable to resist a moment longer the pleasure of skin sliding against skin, what little clothing remained now came off. Irresistible sensation ruled; thought, analysis, and doubt ceased, as their bodies moved to the rhythms still echoing throughout the city.
The night of freedom and fun ended with shared passion, despite their combined misgivings about the future or the chance of their ever having a true relationship.
Wrapped in JZ’s arms, Qui’s last conscious thought was how comfortable she felt in his embrace.
Qui and JZ emerged from their shared room to find Luis already drinking coffee and laughing with Rita at the table.
“Ahh, Luis, I see our two sleepyheads are finally up!”
“Have a good night?” Luis turned to them and asked.
Rita chuckled as she poured coffee for them. “Come, eat some fruit.” She pointed to a platter of sliced fruit. “I’m preparing eggs the way Luis likes them, scrambled with sausage, onions, cheese, and peppers. Would you like some?”
JZ, eager to try local cuisine, called out, “I’m with you, Luis.”
Qui grimaced and said, “I’ll just have some fruit and coffee. Never could eat in the morning, and especially not after last night’s Carnival.” She jointed Rita by the stove.
Luis smiled, “Not like the tame celebration in Havana, all show and no spirit, eh Qui?”
”Yeah, Uncle, no spirit like that of Santiago rum!” Qui laughed and the others joined her. Carnival in Santiago was known as much for the communal participation as it was for the free flowing rum. Qui wondered if Rita had any aspirin, something always in short supply in Cuba since the Soviet withdrawal in the early nineties.
While Rita cooked, Qui cut thick slices of homemade bread. Bringing the bread to the table, Qui asked, “Uncle, when can you take us to the basilica?”
JZ added, “We’re anxious to get started.”
“There are steps I need to take first,” Luis replied with a frown and a quick glance at Rita. “People who may help us.”
“And how long will that take?” Qui pressed. “And why can’t we come with you?”
“There might be delicate negotiations involved. Some things that a PNR detective can’t be part of.” Looking her directly in the eyes, he added, “Trust me a bit longer, Qui. Some things are best left to me.”
“In the meantime, perhaps Rita can take us to the basilica?” Qui smiled at the other woman.
“No!” exploded Luis before Rita could respond. The other three stared at him in shock.
“Luis! Be nice to our guests.”
JZ noted her use of ‘our’ and tucked it away. He was beginning to believe Luis’s claim to family all over the island.
“I don’t want you involved any deeper than you already are.” He said in a loud voice to Rita. “You take too many chances!”
“I can take care of myself,” replied Rita, “and I can escort them to Father Pasqual, who’ll guide them to the basilica and answer their questions. You can meet them there later.”
“Why’re you hedging, Uncle?” Qui asked. “Why delay our going out to the basilica? Is there something you’re not telling us?”
Staring at Qui and JZ, Luis grimly said, “There are many things in Santiago better left unspoken.” Without another word, he rose and abruptly left the house, leaving the three staring at one another.
Rita sighed as if his quick leave-taking were commonplace, and she softly explained, “Luis has dealings with many who’d be arrested if their activities were noticed, especially by the SP or the PNR.” She shrugged, “It makes him jumpy.”
Qui replied, “A side of Luis I’ve never seen.”
JZ added, “Me neither. It couldn’t’ve been the eggs; they’re excellent.”
“Thanks. I don’t know the priests at the basilica well,” said Rita, munching a piece of buttered bread, “but I do know the man I’m telling you about, Father Pasqual, at a church here in Santiago.”
“Rita, the fewer people who know our reason for being here, the better.” Qui glanced at JZ who nodded in agreement.
Rita didn’t skip a beat, “Father Pasqual is a Jesuit. He’ll keep your secrets, and he knows the priests at the basilica. He’ll get you answers.”
“Has Luis some bad history with the priest at the basilica?” JZ asked reaching for another slice of bread.
“Luis is uncomfortable around any priest,” replied Rita. “But, Luis had some small problem at El Cobre long ago. I don’t know what; something he doesn’t talk about.”
“All right,” Qui relented, “but you said you can take us to this Father Pasqual.”
“Normally, he’s at his church,” said Rita. “But, during Carnival, he gives the blessing at the start of each new day’s parade, so I’m not sure where he’ll be.”
“All the same, we need to find him.”
Rita didn’t hesitate. “The let’s be off!”
32
A visit to Father Pasqual’s church revealed that he was not at the church.
“So where can we find him now?” asked Qui.
The junior priest, an Italian named Chimino, replied, “Undoubtedly in the parade. Fancies himself a ‘man of the people’ with their typical love of partying. Actually, you just missed him. He’d been ahhh…recuperating but—”
“Recuperating?” asked Rita, concerned.
“From last night’s festivities,” Chimino reassured her.
“Oh boy, we’re in for a search now!” Rita exclaimed.
They walked toward the sound of the revelers hoping the Father would be easy for Rita to spot. As they passed the gateway to the Santa Ifigenia Cemetery, dominated by a memorial to Cuban soldiers who’d fought and died in Angola, Qui slowed for a better look.
Noticing this, Rita asked, “Have you seen Marti’s tomb?” Hearing a no, she said, “Let’s look, it’ll only take a few moments.” She led the visitors to the impressive tomb of Cuban national hero, revolutionary, and writer Jose Marti, a crenulated hexagonal tower, each side representing one of Cuba’s six original provinces. The round mausoleum designed so that the sun always shone on Marti’s casket—adorned with the Cuban flag—impressed JZ as much as it did Qui. Rita, who’d explained all this, crossed herself, and stood silent.
Ten minutes later, Rita recognized Father Pasqual in the midst of a weaving conga line. She then rushed ahead of Qui and JZ to drag the priest free of the dancers.
“Rita, why’re you pulling me away? You know how seldom I indulge!”
“It’s important, Father.” She guided him to Qui and JZ where she introduced the young priest as Father Gabriel Pasqual.
Rita stated, “Father, Qui here is a PNR detective—”
Still breathless, Pasqual inhaled deeply and asked, “Santiago PNR? I thought I knew them all.”
“No, no, no, Havana PNR.”
“Havana, really? On official business?”
“Yes,” replied Qui.
Rita added, “And Mr. Julio Zayas is a security officer with the American Interest Section. Father Pasqual knows everyone and everything that goes on in Santiago.”
“Not quite, but I try to remain informed,” the priest replied turning to the two. “Obviously, you’re not here to celebrate Carnival, so tell me what brings you to Santiago?”
“It’s a rather involved story,” said JZ.
“Can we talk privately?” asked Qui.
“I know a place,” the older man replied. “Come along.”
They were soon ensconced at a table back in the church offices, where Pasqual asked, “So tell me what sort of intrigue brings you to me?”
“It has to do with this antique,” said Qui, lifting the lock from its black pouch to place it on the table.
Father Pasqual stared at the relic as though it were a curse, but he said nothing. Qui wished that she could read his mind at this moment.
Rita said, “We need your help, Father.”
Qui added, “It’s important. Lives have been lost.”
“And, ours are at stake,” JZ dryly commented.
“So it’s come home after all these years,” Father Pasqual muttered as he rose and scanned the wall of books. “Wait a moment.”
The other three stared at one another. Rita, familiar with Pasqual’s habits, put a finger to her lips cautioning silence.
Finally, Pasqual erupted with “Here you are.” Returning to the table, he sat and opened a thick volume he’d removed from a bookcase that stretched to the ceiling. Searching, he located a particular page and smiled. He turned the book to face them, pointing at a photograph.
“It’s the same photo, your father’s!” said a surprised JZ.
“Your father is Tomaso Aguilera?” asked the priest. “He placed a finger on the caption designating the photographer’s name.”
Shocked, Qui could not answer. She nodded thinking small island world…that someone so far from Havana might know so much about her father, but then his photos were known the world over. Still, Qui silently vowed on returning to Havana to learn more from her father and Benilo about their past.
