Havana Sunrise

by Kymberly Hunt

  Julian looked at it and smirked. “Of all the letters, you would pick that one.”

  “It was in a purple envelope.”

  Julian ripped the drawing up and threw it in the trash. “That’s just some loony. Every now and then I get those.”

  “Doesn’t it…well…isn’t that kind of scary?”

  He shrugged. “It happens when you’re in the limelight. That wacko has been writing me for years. When he first started, he was giving me advice, telling me who I should date, what kind of music I should sing, and stuff like that. I’ve never answered any of his letters, but he just keeps sending them. Through the years they’ve gotten more bizarre.”

  “Isn’t that kind of like stalking? You should tell someone. Stalking is a crime.”

  “Actually I don’t even think about it. I don’t consider it stalking,” he said. “If I got upset over every psycho who sent me stuff, I couldn’t stay in the business.” He placed both hands lightly on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You really do worry too much.”

  “It seems to go with my territory,” she said.

  “Your turn,” Julian said, as Trey popped out of the bathroom. “When you come out I’ll give you a little tour around.”

  “Trey,” she started.

  “There you go, worrying again. I’ll watch this guy.”

  His apartment had three stories. The ground level had an impressive game room that would enchant any child or childlike adult. Trey had to be dragged out. Also on the ground level was a spectacular indoor pool, a gym, and a small recording studio. The main floor had a library, a mini movie theater, and a gorgeous kitchen and living room.

  She stood in that living room, clinging tightly to Trey’s hand, and looking around. That space alone could hold her entire condo. The room was a brilliant white, with marble flooring, custom-designed furniture, and built-in ceiling spotlights. Numerous tropical plants gave it an airy, almost Caribbean feeling. It was all so beautiful, but she felt as if she were walking through an expensive hotel instead of a home. She could not help wondering how much of this he could actually enjoy when most of his time was spent on the road.

  “The bedrooms and other guest rooms are on the top floor,” Julian said.

  She nodded, grateful that he didn’t offer to take them up there. She was overwhelmed and frankly, exhausted. Her legs ached from all the skating, and she wanted to go home so she could just sit back and savor the moments of the day.

  Julian led them out onto the verandah for a spectacular view of the ocean. He was surprised to find his niece sprawled in one of the deck chairs, her nose buried in a book.

  “Amanda, what are you doing here?”

  She let the book drop. “It’s nice and quiet here,” she said, with a pleading let-me-stay look in her eyes.

  “You’re not hiding from your nanny again, are you?”

  “Nope. She knows where I am.”

  “Come over here and meet my friends.”

  Nicole smiled as the little girl approached. She had long, damp brunette tresses, and big almond-shaped hazel eyes. She was wearing a multi-colored bathing suit.

  “Nicole and Trey, this is Amanda,” Julian said.

  “Hello, Amanda. Have you been swimming?” Nicole asked.

  “Uh huh,” Amanda replied, without a trace of shyness. “You should see me dive. I’m really good, almost better than Uncle J.”

  “I’ll bet,” Julian said with a laugh.

  Nicole noticed that Trey had moved behind her, trying to make himself invisible. Julian reached for the reluctant boy’s arm and tugged him out front.

  “This is Nicole’s son, Trey. Trey’s not ready to talk yet, in English or in Spanish, but someday he will. When he’s ready.”

  Trey squirmed, wanting desperately to be out of the spotlight, and Nicole was instinctively about to come to his rescue, when Amanda spoke. “That’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t like to talk either. Do you like horses, Trey?”

  Trey nodded, brightening.

  “Uncle J, can I show Trey my pony?”

  “Yeah, but no riding though.”

  “We won’t. I promise. C’mon, Trey.”

  “Julian,” Nicole objected. “This is Trey’s first time here. I don’t think he should go wandering off without supervision.”

  “It’s perfectly all right,” Julian insisted. The stables are not far from here. Amanda’s a great big sister. She’ll take care of him.”

  “We’ll just go look at the horses and we’ll come right back,” Amanda said, pulling a wrap over her swimsuit and shoving her pink-toed feet into sandals.

  Nicole reluctantly gave in. “Okay. Trey, make sure you don’t get too close to the horses.”

  He nodded, suddenly eager to be off on an excursion with someone closer to his own age—even if that someone was a girl.

  Nicole strolled closer to the railing and looked down at the gardens and a massive lagoon-shaped pool. She looked up at Julian who was standing beside her.

  “Your niece is really cute, and so grown up,” she said.

  “Isn’t she? Spoiled rotten too.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure you’re the one spoiling her.”

  “I do my part.”

  Nicole took a deep breath and inhaled the rose-scented breeze drifting up from the gardens below. There were things she desperately wanted to know about this paradox of a man who engaged millions with his beautiful voice, had a disturbing reputation as a shallow Casanova, and yet liked to have food fights with children. She also wondered why his niece, or the woman she’d been told was his sister, did not physically resemble him at all.

  “You must be very close to your sister, since you all live within this villa.”

  “Close?” An ironic smile flickered across his face. “We’re a family. We do what we have to for each other.”

  She detected the resignation in his voice even more than the actual words. “You almost sound as if you were adopted.”

  Julian looked at the sky. “Both my parents died back in Cuba when I was very young. My sister Elena and I had the same mother, but different fathers. My father was black.”

  That explained a lot of things she thought, but she wondered what his father’s being black meant to him.

  “Do you remember your father?”

  “Yes, a little bit. He was a singer and a poet.” His eyes looked even more distant. “Anyway, after my parents died, Elena became my guardian. She was a lot older than me. She and her husband Luis took me with them to this country.”

  “How was the crossing?”

  “We came illegally on a fishing boat. I really don’t remember the details.”

  Nicole shuddered at the thought. Miami was a mecca for both Cuban and Haitian refugees. She recalled a young patient, a Haitian woman, who had nearly drowned when the makeshift boat she and hundreds of others had been on, capsized. The woman had been taken to the hospital with severe dehydration and other problems, only to be returned to Haiti when she was well. The Cuban refugees who survived were usually allowed to stay because their reasons for escape were political.

  “How old were you when you came here?” she asked.

  “About seven. We started out living in a New York suburb with some of Luis’ relatives. I was in this school…couldn’t speak a word of English. I was laughed at, picked on. You know how kids are.”

  “Yes. I know that all too well,” she said, recalling Trey’s dilemmas in the public school.

  “Anyway, the relatives got sick of us, and I know they didn’t like me, didn’t want this little mulatto boy around with their kids or something. Eventually Luis found a job in Florida and we all moved down here,” Julian said.

  “How were you treated by Elena and Luis?” Nicole asked.

  “I was fed and had a roof over my head. Luis was pretty cool, but when I was small, Elena used to beat the crap out of me when I misbehaved. She always had me doing a lot of chores and things. It wasn’t that bad until she had her two b
oys. After that I became a babysitter and house servant.”

  Nicole flinched at the thought and waited, but he did not elaborate. She was conscious of the fact that Julian had moved very close, and that his arm had slid around her waist like an anchor. It did not feel oppressive yet.

  “So how did you become famous?”

  “Well, I always had this music thing in me. When I was about thirteen, I started hanging with these guys who were a lot older. We formed a band and we would play at clubs and weddings. It was a great escape for me, especially when we started getting a lot of gigs. We were pretty popular locally.”

  “And Elena allowed that?”

  “No. I was a teenager and I was kind of going through a rebellious period. In other words, I was out of control and she really didn’t know what to do about it. Anyway, a few years later, Luis got to be manager of a record store, and a lot of popular performers would come around to do promotions, record signings and stuff. He gave one of them a demo tape of mine and he in turn showed it to his producer. They liked the tape and the rest is history.”

  His arm tightened around her, and she looked into the velvet depths of his eyes. There was still a lot he had not said, but if she used her imagination she could almost see the dark-eyed seven-year-old with no parents in a strange land, being raised begrudgingly by a sister who had her own family and probably resented being saddled with the additional responsibility of a little brother.

  She imagined what it must have been like when little brother became the star and the family cash cow. She was sure Julian was paying for everything they had, including the education of his sister’s children. That was all very generous, nice and well, but what was Julian getting out of it? He didn’t seem very happy. Did they even care?

  “You didn’t have much of a childhood,” she murmured. “That’s sad.”

  “Other people have had it much worse,” Julian said. “I’m grateful.”

  They were so close that their lips melded together in slow motion. Nicole closed her eyes and savored the kiss. She felt herself drifting farther and farther away from the safe shore. She wanted this man. She desired this man. She had never felt such a powerful physical attraction before, not even with Warren—definitely not with Warren.

  “Uh…Julian…no.” She planted her hand firmly on his chest, and pulled away.

  The unjustified comparison to her husband was too much. How could she feel more attracted to a virtual stranger? Julian did not protest, but his eyes were questioning.

  “This is silly,” she said, looking over the verandah, relieved to spot the returning forms of Trey and Amanda at a distance.

  “Silly? It felt pretty natural to me,” Julian said.

  “That’s probably because you’ve had a lot more experience.” She regretted saying that, but it was too late. The words were out.

  “Okay,” he admitted. “I have been with a lot of women, but I am not experienced with one who is afraid of me.”

  “Afraid of you? If I were afraid of you, I wouldn’t be here alone with you on your verandah, separated from the mainland by a bay.”

  “I don’t mean that kind of afraid. I mean afraid of intimacy.”

  No! She did not want to get started on that line of conversation. “Look, I just want to say thanks for a really wonderful day. I’ve had more fun than I’ve had in a long time. I especially thank you for being so wonderful to my son. I’m sure he’ll always remember this. You really impressed him.”

  “I was kind of hoping I’d impressed his mother.”

  She took a deep breath, and then said, softly. “You impressed his mother.”

  Now let’s just leave it at that, she thought desperately. Please do not ruin a beautiful day by getting all passionate and talking about intimacy. She did not feel ready to handle that and was not sure she ever would be.

  * * *

  The journey back home was much more subdued, with conversation that was trivial and safe. When she reached her humble condominium, she felt as though she’d returned from a trip to Mars. Trey was fighting exhaustion, and she was relieved that he would be taking a nap, because it would give her a chance to reflect and unwind.

  As soon as Trey had vanished inside, a painful silence took over. She gazed into Julian’s eyes, knowing she wanted to say more, and knowing he felt the same way. Instead, she simply thanked him again for the day, and turned to go.

  “Don’t forget. You still have my number,” he said, aware that his voice sounded hollow.

  Julian backed the Explorer up and as he was leaving the parking lot, he could see Nicole in the rear view mirror, still watching. She looked hauntingly vulnerable and so refreshingly beautiful. He gripped the steering wheel hard. It was all he could do to keep from turning the car around and running back to her. He wanted to grab her, despite her feeble objections, and convince her to stay in his world.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “It’s been a week. When are you going to see him again?”Allyson asked.

  “It’s not entirely up to me,” Nicole replied, placing a folded sheet in the linen closet.

  “It is up to you. He made the first move. Now it’s your turn.”

  Nicole did not want to think about Julian at this moment. Their parents would be arriving from Chicago the next day and she was trying to prepare things. She had taken off all of the coming week so she could spend time with them. The brunt of that responsibility was going to fall on her, because she knew Allyson was going to shirk it.

  “Did you hear me, Nic? I said it’s your move.”

  “I’m not going to make a move.” Nicole extracted a pillowcase from the laundry basket and tossed it at her sister. “Here, fold this.”

  Allyson caught the pillowcase and glared at her. “Say what?”

  “You heard me. If I never hear from Julian again I will be disappointed, and I will always wonder about him, but life will go on and I will survive.” She noticed Allyson’s expression and continued. “Look, I know you think I’m crazy, but get real. The man is a celebrity. What possible use could he have for little Nurse Evans and her son? He’s got countless other women, women more like him, who are more used to his lifestyle.”

  “Do you remember that movie Coming to America?” What if Julian is like the prince?”

  Nicole laughed. “Listen to yourself. When we were kids you used to always call me the dreamer, the one waiting for the knight in shining armor. Well, this is no movie and Julian Marquez may be rich, but he’s no prince.”

  Allyson had no reply for that, although she hoped Julian would take the initiative again, since it was clear Nicole had no such intention. She focused her attention back on what her sister was doing. “Hope you’re not planning on using that sheet for them. You know Mom will hate it,”

  Nicole finished folding the navy blue sheet. “Never, nothing but light colors for her. And I think you better take that bible of yours from down off the shelf so Mom will think it’s being used.”

  Allyson laughed. “Should I dust it off?”

  “You’re terrible. When was the last time you were in church?”

  “Last Christmas, and you shut up. You only go because you take Trey.”

  That’s not quite true, Nicole thought, but neither of them was as devout as their mother. Eleanor Whitfield had always insisted that her girls attend church when they were young. She’d read bible passages to them at night instead of bedtime stories, and she had always insisted that they be chaste and virtuous young ladies. Now that she was retired from teaching elementary school math, she devoted most of her time to religious pursuits, sponsoring youth groups, teaching bible classes, and singing in the choir.

  The differences between her and their father, James Whitfield, were so obvious that it was amazing the marriage had survived. The only thing they had in common was that they had both been teachers. James had been a professor of political science at the community college. He was also something of an agnostic and an avid civil rights activist, having participated in
countless sit-ins, marches and demonstrations back in the early sixties before the girls were even born. Eleanor had lived in constant fear that he would be killed or arrested, but surprisingly Nicole and Allyson’s early lives had been relatively sheltered, unaffected by the turmoil of the world around them.

  Nicole remembered the quiet suburban neighborhood they’d grown up in, and the racially mixed but predominantly white school they’d attended. The only time she had ever been called by a racial slur it had been from someone of her own race. Only after becoming an adult had she realized that her life had been relatively unscathed by racial injustice because of the collective efforts of her father and other courageous pioneers.

  James Whitfield’s retired life was a lot quieter now. He had passed the torch on to the younger generation, but he still occasionally conducted seminars and gave lectures. In his seventies, he had also acquired wisdom and tact, and was known as a diplomat and negotiator in the community.

  “Are you going to tell them about Julian?” Allyson asked.

  “Of course not. And don’t you mention him either.”

  “Me? You don’t have to worry about that. I plan on limiting my conversations with Mom.”

  Nicole closed the closet door. Her mind drifted wistfully to Trey, who was in school. If her son could talk, he would be the one blabbing all her secrets to his grandparents.

  * * *

  The Marlins had come from behind and in the final inning they’d struck out all of the opposition batters. Wade was elated as he and Julian left the stadium through a private exit.

  “Maan, that was some play. Did you see when—?” He interrupted his own outburst of enthusiasm when he noticed that Julian was a million miles away, with thoughts that had nothing to do with baseball.

  “So what’s up with you?” he asked as they crossed the parking lot to his car.

  “Up?” Julian looked puzzled. “Oh yeah, great game.”

  They both got in and Wade started the car. “You aren’t thinking nothing about the game. It’s that Nicole woman again, isn’t it?”

  Julian switched the radio on to a jazz station. “She told me she had a good time that Saturday, but it’s been a week. Don’t you think she could at least call?”