Don Miguel remained silent for a while and then he got up and said, “The evening is beautiful, but I have things to do back home. Could your chauffeur drive me home?” He paused and said in a low tone, “By the way, I disagree with what you said, but don’t worry. That’s why friends are so important.”
— 18 —
Santi Spiritus
THE BELLS TOLLED, inviting parishioners to come to seven o’clock Mass. Mike and Don Miguel’s hotel in Santi Spiritus faced the church from across the square, and the sound woke Mike. He sleepily ambled to the bathroom. His father had finished taking a shower and had a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Good morning, Father.”
“Good morning, Son,” his father replied briskly. “You slept late, so we’ll have coffee at the fairgrounds. I’ll see you downstairs. You can take your shower later.”
Mike joined him in the lobby.
The fairground setup was simple and practical with a large open arena with wooden bleachers on two sides, a white fence around the back, and a series of large thatched-roof barns that were used as stables for the animals. Vendors roamed the grounds peddling soft drinks, ice cream, pirulis, and roasted peanuts. Loudspeakers on every light pole blared with announcements, competing with the voices and guitars of troubadours, who improvised décimas for unwilling listeners and then demanded tips.
Don Miguel, smoking his first cigar, went to see his cattle. Manuel, with three of his helpers, was in the middle of their preparation. The horns of the cattle, sanded at the farm, were now finished with a finer sanding paper and coated with a greasy substance, then buffed to a lustrous shine. Mike followed his father and closely inspected each animal to be shown that the morning. Manuel wore his work clothes, but soon they would all change into the farm’s show uniform of white shirt, red bandanna tied around the neck, white straw Western hat, white jeans, and a red-and-white leather chap that showed the farm brand on its wings.
The first class was to start in thirty minutes, and the farmhands’ activity was at a high pitch. Mike put on the farm’s leather chaps so that he could show a heifer in the first class. The breeders’ children now handled the farm animals in the ring. As with other customs copied from North American breeders, the cattlemen’s children and their employees showed their animals. The animals received the final touches—one more time their coats were brushed and toweled. Each handler pinned his animal’s number to the back of his shirt. In his right hand, he held a stick to make the animal stand perfectly in front of the judge with neck high, four legs to form a perfect square, back straight.
The judge was a tall, lanky professor from a Texas agricultural and mechanical college. He had two assistants; one was his interpreter. The judge was quick to evaluate the lineup. He promptly eliminated the animals that did not meet his standards of conformation or were not in perfect show condition. The culled handlers left the ring, downtrodden, many to face the anger of their parents or owners, who would accuse them of handling their stock poorly.
Manuel’s heifer won first place, while Mike placed third. For Mike it was, at best, a bittersweet success. Mike had not selected his heifer. Manuel had just handed him a lead rope. He would have liked to win, but he understood. They both wanted the farm to win, and since Mike had not shown an animal in the ring for some years, it would have been a risk to give him the best animal. Other classes followed. Mike and Manuel showed in every class, and the farm continued to place with its animals.
The contest stopped at noon to give the judge and the handlers a lunch break. Mike joined his father, now surrounded by a group of friends, in a special area of a restaurant reserved for the show patrons and exhibitors. The food was simple: a thin steak surrounded by French fried potatoes, chicken and noodle soup, and a fruit salad directly from a Del Monte can. Don Miguel was having his usual Scotch and water. A breeder joked with Mike that the reason the farm had won so many ribbons was because he was able to speak English to the judge. Mike laughed, but he understood the implication. The patrons soon left the restaurant to watch the showing of their cattle. Finally, the championship class was to be judged. Manuel showed the bull that had won the two-year class, while Mike showed a bullock. But another breeder, who had just imported his bull from Texas, won the championship. The farm won the Reserve Champion, and Mike’s two-year old bullock won the Junior Champion trophy. Don Miguel was less than delighted with the outcome—the farm had not made its usual sweep of the trophies—but there were other judges and shows, and he joined the other exhibitors to celebrate their wins of the day in the patron area of the restaurant.
Another celebration was going on: Manuel had invited his crew to a small bar near the stables. They drank beer, and as the evening progressed, they changed to brandy and ginger ale. Employees from other farms joined in, and they had spirited arguments, mixed with hearty laughter and jokes, about how their bosses made them dress to show their cattle. They were caricatures of Tom Mix or Hopalong Cassidy with fancy chaps, bandannas tied around their necks, and oversized cowboy hats.
The exhibitors had a dance that night at the Yayabo Riding Club, housed in a modest building near the fairgrounds with a thatched palm roof and a red-painted cement floor. On one side stood a long bar; opposite was a bandstand, where a large band played chachachas, sones, and guaguancos, and when it went on break, a colorful Wurlitzer with a collection of American top-ten tunes provided music. Cattlemen, exhibitors, club members, and guests occupied wooden tables around the dance floor. Others stood at the long bar to watch the dancers. Don Miguel and Mike sat at a table close to the orchestra with Gordo Zayas, who was the announcer for the show, and other exhibitors. Bottles of Fundador, Bacardi, and Cutty Sark were lined along the length of the table with empty bottles of ginger ale, Coca-Cola, and tonic water. An ice bucket held Hatuey beer, and dishes full of potato chips and olives completed the spread.
IN A CANTINA on the fairgrounds, Manuel sat with a group of employees at the end of the bar. His group had split up, as the more adventurous had left for the city to find putas with whom to spend the night, while others stayed nursing their beers. Manuel looked at his companions and realized that he had achieved more than they had. Don Miguel respected him, and he increasingly asked for his advice. He had saved a lot of money, because of his frugality and his free room and board. He could go anywhere and say, “I know how to train horses. I have my own saddle.” In Manuel’s view, he thought that he should be the administrator of the farm and Ricardo should answer to him. He should only have to answer to Don Miguel.
Mike’s arrival had spoiled his dreams. Mike would never put him in charge. He preferred Ricardo. Why not him? He had saved more money than his compadres, but not enough if he wanted to marry Julieta. If he were the farm administrator, at least he would feel equal to her. The farm was at least thirty times bigger than the sisters’ plantation, and its sugar quota at the sugar mill was larger than theirs. He could manage the whole farm. He knew he was capable of doing it. “Why did Mike have to return?” He lamented. He talked more to El Viejo than Mike ever had.
A friendly slap on his back brought Manuel out of his ruminations. He turned around and saw Paulino with Fernando and the three sisters behind them. Julieta put her arm around Manuel’s shoulder and said, “So you thought you could come and party with your compadres without me? At least I found you without a woman.” Manuel was so surprised that he didn’t know what to say. “Is this the way you receive someone who has driven hours just to see you?” she asked.
He got up and gave Julieta a small embrace and shook hands with the two other sisters, who were still laughing at his bewilderment.
Paulino took over. “Manuel, we haven’t had anything to eat.” Manuel took the group to a larger table and called for a waiter. The group was in a party mood. Fernando excused himself and went to find the other employees of the farm.
Manuel sat next to Julieta and, feeling more composed, held her hand. “I’m very surprised to see you tonight. You should hav
e told me. I would have taken you to a better place.” He leaned toward her and said more softly, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Maybe we can talk tonight. Can we have time by ourselves?”
Manuel hurried them through dinner. When the check came, Paulino made a feeble effort to pay it, but Manuel, feeling important, grabbed it from him and, throwing a twenty pesos bill on the table, invited the group to come back to the stables to see the trophies and ribbons that they had won. At the stables, he gave a short speech about the mistake the judge made by not pinning the farm’s older bull as the great champion. Paulino, who wanted to go to the amusement rides, left with Cristina and Elena. Julieta hung back, holding Manuel’s hand. It was the first time they had been alone.
Manuel closed the door of the box. Four directors chairs with red canvas backs, an army cot, and the two saddle boxes filled the space. Manuel dusted a chair off and asked Julieta to sit. He pulled another chair close to it. He picked up her hands and, looking into her eyes, tried to think of the right words. He wanted to say how much he loved her; how bad he felt when she was not near him; that his thoughts were always with her; that he did not know if he deserved her; that he was honest and hardworking; that he wanted a family; that he would work hard and that if they wanted, he could work with them in helping them manage their plantation. He looked at her eyes and he forgot everything he was about to say. She was still smiling, holding his hands. Manuel just blurted, “I love you.”
Julieta moved in closer and kissed him. “I do, too, Manuel.”
— 19 —
Kawama
AN EARLY BREAKFAST had been served. Don Miguel was in the library reading the newspapers when Estrella entered with Georgina. “Do you know when Mike is coming back from the farm?” Estrella asked. “Lourdes told me that you’re going to spend the summer with them at Kawama. Now, if Mike isn’t returning soon, I won’t have anything to do.” She briefly paused and then divulged the real reason she was asking. “I’d like to spend time with my sister in Santa Isabel de las Lajas. I think Georgina can take care of the house.”
“Well,” Don Miguel responded, turning to Georgina, “you’re going to be here all alone. You have to promise me that no one, no one, will enter these doors. You’ll clean the house, water the plants, answer the phone, and record in writing who called, when he called, his phone number, and what he wanted from me. If you do so, you can stay and Estrella can leave. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Don Miguel, I’ll do everything you want me to do,” she said eagerly. “Estrella can visit her sister. You’ll be pleased.”
“Okay, Estrella. I’m going to Varadero for at least three or four weeks.”
“Thank you, Don Miguel. I’ll send a telegram to my sister and find out what will be convenient for her.” They hurried away, leaving him feeling not like a tough old grouch, but a kind, benevolent master.
Adelaida was the first to arrive at the rental house in Varadero, and she opened all the windows to let in the sun and sea air. The house had enough bedrooms for the entire family. They didn’t have a swimming pool, but the house faced the beach, which extended for kilometers in both directions with white powdery sand and clear blue water. Lalin and Jose Miguel immediately tore through the house, unleashing energy they had stored up during the two-hour car trip.
Lourdes arrived an hour later in a station wagon packed with her three children and two maids. The sisters embraced as if they had not seen each other for years. Lourdes’ children ran to meet their cousins, and the house became filled with laughter and shouts. Soon they could hear the cousins arguing over who would get which beds.
The house was located within walking distance to the Club Kawama, a semiprivate club that also served as a hotel. Adelaida and Lourdes chose the room farthest away from the children’s wing for their father, as well as a room opening onto the garden for Mike.
Lourdes and Adelaida then called a meeting of the children. They struggled to keep still as their mothers instructed them on the house rules: No going to the beach alone. No talking to strangers. Each must have a buddy to go into the water. They must have breakfast in the morning. They could play in the sand and swim from eight to eleven. They must take a nap in the afternoon, dinner at seven, everyone in bed by nine. And they must have permission to visit a friend’s house. The bikes had to be ridden against the traffic. The children readily agreed, not because they would comply, but because they wanted to avoid a fight with their mothers.
Lourdes had two boys, Julio and Manuel, and a daughter named after herself. The cousins were roughly the same age and liked each other. As soon as the meeting was over, the maids took the luggage to the rooms. Within minutes, the children had changed into swimsuits and ran to the beach to catch the last waves of a glorious afternoon.
Lourdes dropped languorously on a porch chair to watch them play in the shimmering clear water. Adelaida fixed a pair of Cuba Libres and then joined her. The two sisters were a study in contrasts. Lourdes was blonde and petite with short hair, showing the effects of the summer sun. Adelaida was tall, tanned, and dark-haired with long, beautiful legs. The one physical feature that united them was the structure of their faces: highly sculpted and beautifully proportioned with an aura of refinement.
“I’ve never felt more tired! I don’t remember the drive being so long,” Lourdes said, leaning back into her chair and propping her feet on a small coffee table. She took a long sip of her Cuba Libre. “You should have seen them go wild when they saw the water—you know, when you drive over that beautiful bridge? They wouldn’t stop jumping and shouting! I had to stop the car to calm them down.” She cocked a thumb toward the inside the house. “Eulalia wasn’t much help. She slept most of the time. I guess she stayed up most of the night with her boyfriend.”
“That’s the problem with young maids,” Adelaida said.
“I don’t know how they find the energy to stay up most of the night. I tell you, when Julio comes home, I’m ready to go to bed and sleep.”
“Well, things change. You think it’ll never happen to you. Then, a little at a time, while we’re caught up in our lives, everything we know is fundamentally shifting, like the sand over there.” Adelaida squinted at the shore. She quickly tallied the number of heads to make sure all the children were accounted for. The sisters listened for a moment to the sounds of frolicking children, whose shouts and laughter were muffled by the sea breeze and breaking waves.
Lourdes continued, “I hope Julio and I can get reacquainted here. It seems as if it’s been years since we had sex.” Her sister turned sharply, and she quickly added, “That’s not really the case, but it’s been a long time. Are we so old?”
Adelaida took a sip. “Yes, we are, but that shouldn’t matter. Men sometimes get very busy.” Adelaida softly touched her gold necklace. “There was a time when I was worried sick by Jose Maria’s constant travel. Now I can see how much he enjoys being with the children and me. After a long trip to one of the sugar mills, he loves to spend time around the house. He’s still thoughtful and considerate.”
“Sometimes, I’d like Julio to take a trip or two and relax. He’s always coming and going to meetings,” Lourdes said. She suddenly brightened and asked, “What have you heard from Maria Alicia? Is she coming to Varadero with her parents?”
Adelaida slyly smiled. “Yes, she’ll be here soon. Her father just bought a Prowler at the Miami boat show. He’s bringing it down, navigating it all by himself. Maria Alicia promised to take us fishing in it!”
Lourdes said, “I thought she and Mike had fallen for each other, but he’s so reserved. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking. Maybe we should give a cocktail party—how about Saturday? He and Maria Alicia make such a cute pair. I wish Mother could see them!”
Adelaida turned her attention to the beach and called out, “Boys and girls, time to come in! It’s getting late. We have to dress for dinner. It’s time to come inside.”
That night the boys had a pillow fight. Lourdes had to g
o upstairs twice to calm them down. In another room, Lalin and the younger Lourdes whispered secrets to each other. By ten o’clock, Lourdes was ready to go to bed, but before going to her room, she called home. No one answered. A few minutes later, Adelaida got a call from Jose Maria asking how she and the children were, and for details about the trip.
Early the next morning, Lourdes wandered into the kitchen. She was ready for a cup of coffee, but the cook had just begun to boil water. Julio had not called her the night before, and while she waited for her cup, she sat on the porch, facing the sea. The breeze had not started. The ocean was placid and only timid waves disturbed the white sand. She watched the birds chasing a school of sardines and remembered the first time Mike had learned to use the cast net. He brought back a pail full of small, thrashing, glistening bodies to be fried by Estrella and eaten with a squirt of lime. She closed her eyes. “How things have changed!” Their last time in Varadero, her mother was alive. She had met Julio here twelve summers ago. He was tall, muscular, with a smile that exuded confidence, and those eyes! He crewed for the Biltmore, and his crew had lost the race at the annual rowing regatta. She noticed him after the regatta on the beach in front of the Club Náutico de Varadero: tanned, shirtless, and sporting tight wet woolen crew shorts and sun-bleached hair. They met that evening at a party at the International Hotel and danced until two. The next morning, he showed up at their beach house and asked permission from her mother to take her out. Smiling, he claimed that since he was in training, he had to be a perfect gentleman: no drinking. “Just like a monk,” he said with a laugh. Her mother allowed Lourdes to go, but with Adelaida as their chaperone. Jose Maria, who was already Adelaida’s fiancé, met them at the cabaret, where Julio, true to his word, contented himself with water while the other three enjoyed Veuve Cliquot. That night when he said good night, Julio stole a kiss from her.
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