Julian and Nicole sat together on the brown, velvety couch. Alma was still beside herself. “I can’t believe it,” she declared. “Enrique’s son, after all these years.” She put on her glasses and inspected him even closer. “You look so much like your father.”
“Tell me about you,” Julian said softly. “What happened after you left Cuba?”
“Well, you know that my husband was already living here in the United States. He sent for me to join him, and that crazy government finally consented. We had many good years here but we never had any children. We wanted you, Julian, and your father wanted you to be with us too. He knew…” She paused briefly because her eyes were filling up with tears. “He knew that he would never get out of Cuba, that he would die there.”
Julian looked away. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way my father wanted them.”
Nicole sensed that Julian was still being somewhat guarded with his emotions. He was probably visualizing how different his life might have been had he been raised by Alma and Alejandro, yet he was also realistically accepting the fact that the past could not be altered.
“I wrote to you a few times,” Aunt Alma said.
“I…I never saw the letters until much later,” Julian replied, his voice barely audible.
Alma sighed. “I assumed that it had a lot to do with that half-sister of yours. She wrote me when you all first came to this country, asking me if I wanted to come get you. Alejandro and I made arrangements to come, but when we got there, you were gone and Elena’s relatives claimed they didn’t know where you moved.”
“A lot of stuff happened,” Julian murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You’re not too late. I may be an old lady now, but before I close my eyes in death, I can say that I was able to see my little boy all grown up into a handsome man. God is good.”
Julian smiled. “You talk the same as I remember. You’re still religious.”
“Yes,” she said. “My life is very quiet now since Alejandro passed eight years ago. I miss him, but I have two sisters living in this building. I go to my meetings all the time.”
“Sisters?” Julian questioned.
“Spiritual ones from my church.”
“So, you never remarried,” Julian said. “I guess that was Uncle Alejandro’s voice Nicole heard on the answering machine.”
Alma smiled warmly. “Yes, that was him. When you’re alone and a widow, you don’t want everyone to know it Besides, I couldn’t bear the thought of erasing his voice. I like to remember him.”
“I can relate to that.” Julian felt the past wrapping itself around him again.
“I have so much more to tell you, but I’d like to hear about your life,”Alma said.
She acts as if she doesn’t know, Julian thought. He really didn’t want to talk about his life. He wanted to hear more about hers, but she was waiting. “A lot has happened in my life,” he said slowly. “Some good, some bad. When Elena and I escaped Cuba, the only thing I could take was my father’s guitar. It was as if he was telling me that that was the most important thing. I know now that there were other important things I should have taken as well, but it’s too late.” He took a deep breath. “I grew up in Miami and when I was a teenager, I kind of got involved in music and…”
“Excuse me a minute,” Alma interrupted, rising.
Nicole thought that it was an odd moment for her to leave the room. She glanced at Julian. He had that far off look that was now familiar. Aunt Alma returned carrying a large, leather-bound scrapbook. She placed it on the coffee table in front of Julian and then she sat down beside him.
“Open it,” she commanded.
Nicole leaned forward, holding her breath as Julian opened the book. The first picture, preserved under a plastic covering, was of him performing during his last Miami concert. He turned the next page and there was more concert footage, news clippings, articles. He kept turning. The pictures were all in order, starting with the most recent and going back in time. He stopped turning the pages and looked up.
“You knew,” he said. It was all he could say.
“Of course I knew,” she replied. “There is no way on earth that I wouldn’t recognize my brother’s son even if he did use a different name.”
“I…” Julian started to speak.
“Shhh! You just keep turning those pages.”
Nicole nudged Julian anxiously and he continued turning the pages with shaking hands. He was now near the beginning of his career, staring at a lanky, tousle-haired, somewhat effeminate looking teenager, who made them both laugh. The next page was blank, perhaps symbolic of the years not captured. He turned that page and right before him was a large black and white photo of a smiling man and a little boy standing near a stone wall. The curly-haired child was holding a guitar. He blinked in disbelief.
“Is this…is this?” he stammered.
“Yes, that’s you and your father. You were six. I took that picture.”
Barely breathing, Nicole wrapped her arm tightly around Julian. She stared over his shoulder at the man in the picture. He was handsome, tall, and darker complexioned than Julian and Alma, but his most defining feature was unmistakable. He had the same velvety black eyes that his son possessed. Nicole felt the warmth of joyful tears trailing down her face.
Julian continued to stare, mesmerized by the photograph. He knew that beyond that wall was the pounding surf of the Atlantic Ocean. He could hear the waves—he could feel his father’s strong embrace. He remembered the day the picture had been taken.
“Julian, hold the guitar like you’re getting ready to play it.” Aunt Alma’s voice, drifted hauntingly through his mind. “Okay, smile for the camera.” He felt the balmy breeze and saw his father affectionately gaze down on him. He remembered his father laughing, and then he remembered the guitar falling down on the grass and himself being lifted and tossed high in the air, flying in the clouds.
“Enrique, stop it! You’ll drop him!”
“He knows I’ll never drop him. Right, son?”
“Yes, Papi. One more time!”
“There’s more,” Alma said, her whispering voice drifting into the past, bringing him back to the present.
Julian fumbled with the page. There were more pictures of his father and baby pictures of himself, along with aunts and cousins that he did not remember. But the greatest discovery was that he could clearly see his father now. Even if he closed the book, he could see that face with all its features. The mental block had vanished forever.
The pictures shimmered crazily and became distorted as his vision blurred. It took him a few seconds to realize that the blurring was caused by his own tears.
“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Alma said, her voice cracking. “I have always been so close to you, yet so far. I’ve gone to most of your concerts when you were here in New York. I’ve got videotapes, all of your records. When you had the accident, I even flew down to Miami, but I could not go into that hospital. Instead, I called from my hotel room and inquired about you. Julian, I prayed and prayed to God that you would be all right.”
Julian was so stunned by her words and his own emotions that he was speechless again.
“You should have insisted on seeing him,” Nicole exclaimed, struggling through her own happy tears. “You’re his aunt, you had every right. Oh, but this is just so bizarre. All this time two people who wanted and needed each other kept apart. Why? Why didn’t you insist?”
“Because I was afraid.” She looked at Julian and addressed him. “At first I thought that maybe you didn’t want to know your father’s side of the family because of race, but then I noticed that in all your interviews, you never denied your heritage and you always spoke honorably of your father. Since I could see it wasn’t that, I decided that you didn’t try to reach me because you thought I would be another greedy relative interested in you only because of your money. That is why you haven’t sought me until now, isn’t it?”
She waited for Julian to speak, but he was silent. “I wanted you to seek me when you were ready,” she continued. “Oh, Julian, how could you not know that whatever you did, whatever you became, I would always open my heart to you, even if you were a beggar at my door, even if you wrote to me from a jail cell.”
The silence that followed was overwhelming. Julian slid one arm around his aunt’s neck and the other around Nicole’s. The trio embraced tearfully without reservation. “I know the truth now,” Julian said. “I’m sorry for being so stubborn. Thank you, Aunt Alma. You don’t know how much seeing you and those pictures of my father means to me. I thought I had forgotten what he looked like, but now I realize that I always knew.”
“Those pictures are yours. I’ve been saving them for you,”she said.
They talked endlessly over coffee and homemade cinnamon rolls. Time honored them by standing still for a while, but it finally announced its return with the sound of fireworks, gunshots, cannons and distant screaming. It was midnight, the dawn of a new year and they had to get back to the hotel.
Aunt Alma did not want them to leave, but Julian assured her that he would visit her again before he left New York. He gave her his hotel phone number and his home number. “This is definitely not the last time,” he stressed. “I’ve found part of my family and I have no intention of losing you ever again.”
Outside it was like a child’s winter fantasy come true. Everything was splendidly carpeted in white and fat puffy flakes were still tumbling from the sky. The snow on the ground sparkled like jewels under the glow of the street lamps and muffled the normal sounds of the metropolis. For an eerie moment, Nicole felt as though they had been transported centuries back to a time when Brooklyn was still rural.
She stood mesmerized while Julian placed the treasured photographs into the waiting car and closed the door without getting in. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said.
“A walk? Are you sure you feel like…”
“Yes, yes.” Urgently he took her by the arm and they strolled slowly down the block.
“It looks so beautiful,” she exclaimed, awed. “This whole street is so quiet and peaceful.”
“Probably because most of the neighbors here are seniors.” He squinted, shielding his eyes against the pelting snow. “I can’t even begin to thank you for arranging this whole thing. “I also can’t believe that it’s a new year and I’m not out partying.”
Nicole nudged him gently. “I hope you’re not missing it.”
“No way, never. This is the greatest New Year’s Eve I can remember and I owe it all to you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m as happy as you are that everything turned out so wonderfully. Your aunt is a beautiful lady and a very elegant one too.”
“Yes, she is. Kind of reminds me of someone else I know.”
“Really? Who?”
“You.” He lightly touched the tip of her nose with a gloved finger.
“Me?” Nicole exclaimed, laughing.
“Yeah, you. I know you’re still going to look beautiful when you’re seventy. And I plan to be around to see you.”
Before Nicole could even exhale, Julian wrapped his arms around her and guided her sideways until she was standing up against the street lamp, her escape route blocked by his body pressed up against hers. In the chill of the falling snow, she had no desire to escape and she welcomed the warmth of his presence.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny black velvet box. Nicole felt her heartrate increase and she watched, motionless, as he opened the box and presented her with an exquisite diamond ring. A mixture of exhilaration and apprehension gripped her. She gasped.
“Nicole, you’ve given new meaning to my life. I can’t imagine the rest of it without you. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Julian, I…”
“Please say yes.” His smoldering eyes were wet, gleaming with an intense passion. “I would get down on my knees if I could. What I’m really trying to say is that I’m not perfect and I know we still have some things to get over, but let’s get over them together.” His body pressed against hers even tighter, sending heat waves strong enough to melt the snow. “My player days are over. You’re the only woman I want and…”
Nicole pressed her mouth against his to silence him. After leaving Aunt Alma’s, she hadn’t realized she had any more tears left, but they were back, coursing down her cheeks. She withdrew her mouth from his. “Yes,” she said softly.
He removed the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger—a perfect fit.
“Yes!” he shouted loudly. “Yes!” He grabbed Nicole, lifted her off her feet and swung her around in an exuberant embrace.
“Stop!” she screamed deliriously. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Put me down.”
The words were jolted out of her as they both collapsed in the snow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I’m so terrified. What have I gotten myself into? Nicole wondered. She had just returned to Miami two hours ago and was sitting in the silence of her living room, surveying the homey familiarity, which after three days of opulence seemed foreign. I’m a private person engaged to a public one. I’m so caught up in the pathos of his family—the drama and romance of it all—that I haven’t really taken the time to think about how drastically my life is going to change.
She reflected on the obvious security surrounding him the minute they’d gotten off the plane, more so than when they were in New York, and it disturbed her. But in the end she had to laugh at her own fears, because for once in her life it didn’t matter how much she thought about it, her heart was going to win. She would simply take one day at a time and deal with each challenge when it presented itself, including Elena’s reaction.
When she went to pick Trey up, she would tell her family. She was grateful that Allyson had decided to remain with her friends in New York for the rest of the week, because it would have been impossible to keep the secret from her.
Julian’s two make-up concerts had been fabulous. His voice and his guitar had never sounded better. Even taking a low-key approach to performing, his artistry had shown through and the audience did not seem to miss the usual theatrics. Nicole was glad that it was over and he was back home with nothing scheduled for a while until his recovery was complete.
* * *
Back at the estate, Julian reflected on the fact that he could not remember a moment since early childhood when he had been happier. In the course of a few weeks, he had nearly lost his life, reconnected with the love of his life, mended the fragmented pieces of his past and was now on the brink of marriage to the most extraordinary woman he had ever encountered. His desire for Nicole was overwhelming and it extended way beyond the physical. It was a love so deep that it was spiritual. It all seemed too incredible to be real.
The concerts had been triumphant, even without all the showy dancing and pandering to the crowd. With a back-to-bones mostly acoustic performance, featuring one man and his guitar, he had felt an intimacy with the audience that he hadn’t felt in years, and it was a direction he wanted to continue pursuing. The gratuitously sexy persona the world recognized had been Luis and Elena’s successful but uninspired recipe for pop stardom. He had always secretly preferred to be recognized as an artist, even if it meant losing ground with the younger crowd.
As he sat alone in the darkened living room, he thought about how much he missed Nicole even though they had only separated a few hours ago. He had asked her to spend the night at his place, but she had declined, as he had expected. He hoped that she wouldn’t use her time alone to reconsider his proposal and conclude that she wouldn’t be able to deal with marriage to him. He had not indicated it to her yet, but he hoped that they would have a short engagement and a private wedding. The sooner they tied the knot the better for both.
Unable to control the urge, he picked up the telephone and dialed her number. It wasn’t that late. She answered on the first ring.
“Were you expecting
me?”
She laughed. “I hope you’re calling from home. It’s almost midnight.”
“I’m home. You’re making a homebody out of me.” He hesitated for a moment. “Have you thought about the wedding date?”
“Yes,” her voice was barely a whisper. “You did tell me that your new CD comes out in June. That means you’ll be touring. I guess after…”
“The wedding will be whenever you want it to be, tour or not,” he interrupted. “If you want June just say the word.”
“Well, in that case it should be before June,” she declared.
He could not believe what she had just said. “How soon?” he asked cautiously.
“How about April?”
“Sounds good to me. It can be as big as you want it to be and wherever you want.”
“Julian.” She said his name as though breathing. “I don’t want a big wedding. I want ours to be as small and private as possible.”
“Fine with me. We’ll fly down to Vegas in the morning.”
She laughed. “You better be joking. I have to think it out more, but I’d really like just the family, those willing to come, and a few close friends.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want? Money is no object you know.”
“I was married before, but if you want something big, that’s up to you. I don’t want to be selfish. This is a first time for you.”
“See, that’s exactly why we’re so right for each other,” he said. “I really don’t want a big wedding either.”
Nicole gave an audible sigh of relief. She had let her parents and relatives get out of control with her wedding to Warren, and it had ended up much larger than she wanted. With Julian, there was the opportunity to really get ridiculous, but she loathed even the thought of a huge celebrity wedding. Media weddings always seemed garish, showy and pretentious, saying nothing about the sanctity or intimacy of the couple involved.
Elena was going to hate the whole deal, regardless of size, but a big wedding would justifiably upset her. She had never mentioned it to Julian, but in some ways she felt that Elena was right about his career. A big wedding would probably have a negative effect on his mostly female fans. They liked their idols to seem available, even if that was not the case. She never wanted to be directly or indirectly responsible for sabotaging Julian’s career. It was the private person she loved and wanted. His music belonged to the world.
Havana Sunrise Page 29