Guava and Cheese

The Families

Ponte

José and Carmen, parents to

Lina and José, ‘Little José’

Ortiz

Armando and Ana, parents to

Emilio and Ana María

Jiménez

Felix and Olga, parents to

Angela and Luis

Parker

Walter and Carmen, ‘Daddy Parker’ and ‘Abuela’,

Lina and Little José’s grandparents

Brennan

Frank and Cathy, ‘Daddy Brennan’ and ‘Mommy Brennan’,

Emilio and Ana Maria’s foster parents

CHAPTER 1

The Find

Lina

Lina Ponte was running down the narrow walkway on top of the sea wall when she spied something large and brown bouncing in the waves.

Emilio, Angela—come look at this!

The older children dashed over to peer at a rectangular box banging against the coquina-rock wall to the beat of the lapping bay. Seven-year-old Lina had already leaned over too far trying to reach it.

Get down from there right now, Angela ordered. It’s too heavy; it’ll drag you off.

Lina jumped from the barrier and landed on the grass two feet below. Angela helped her up.

I’ll go find a pole. Maybe we can pull it to shore, Emilio said.

He soon returned with a boat hook. Climbing on the ledge, he stretched down while Angela and Lina held his legs. He managed to slip the hook through the handle of a large brown leather suitcase, heavy with salt water. He stood up and dragged it to the beach at the end of the sea wall. The girls rushed to meet him at the shoreline.

The three stood on the wet sand, staring down at the find. Angela, almost twelve, was the tallest. Her long blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin contrasted sharply with Lina’s short dark hair, green eyes, and olive coloring. Emilio, next in height, had just turned nine. With his dark complexion and deep brown eyes, he looked more a typical Cuban than his playmates.

Let’s open it, Lina said as she knelt on the damp ground and jiggled one of the two snap latches. It’s locked, she said, fingering the keyhole between the latch and the adjacent button-like knob. We’ll have to break it. Do you have a pocketknife? she looked up at Emilio with excitement beaming in her eyes.

No, I can’t have one ’til I’m ten, but I’ll go look for something. He darted off, hoping to find a screwdriver near the dock where he had found the boat hook.

Where do you think it’s from? Lina asked Angela, who sat down next to her.

I don’t know, but it looks expensive. These are brass latches, and I think this fancy stitching comes only on top-quality leather. Let’s turn it over.

They flipped the bag over, away from the creeping water. On the newly exposed side, there was a large round sticker with a picture of Big Ben and a British flag. They both sank to their knees.

It may be from London, Lina said, touching the label. At least its owner probably went there.

Emilio returned with a straight round stick and a clamshell.

These are all I could find, he said, holding them out. He joined the girls huddled around the mystery bag. He wedged the makeshift wood nail against the round button and pounded it with the palm of his hand. If I can push it sideways the latch should pop open. He picked up the shell and hammered the dowel against the small brass disk. It moved, he said just as the stick splintered.

The three paused, looking at the broken dowel.

We probably should take it to our parents anyway, Lina said as she got up and brushed the sand from her knees.

The adults were spending their Sunday afternoon at the Ponte’s, relaxing in the lush tropical garden. The flaming royal poinciana trees blanketed them with early November shade. Bougainvillea and croton exploded in a kaleidoscope of color. Rustling palms swept the gentle sea breeze under their graceful fronds. The men clicked ebony and ivory dominos on the hardwood game table, puffed fresh Cuban cigars, and talked about the local cockfighting establishment. The women compared notes on their offspring’s schooling and latest antics as they sipped Cuban coffee and sampled guava-and-cheese bites.

The Ponte house was a few blocks from the bay and the Preston Sugar Mill dock. The playmates had taken off in that direction. Emilio’s sister, Ana María, who was not quite three, noisily objected to staying behind with her mother and father. She was the first to see the older children dragging the waterlogged suitcase toward the garden.

Mami, Emilio, she said as she pointed and ran to meet her big brother. The adults saw them, but they were too absorbed in conversation to notice what they were bringing until it was dropped in front of them.

Look what we found, Lina said to her father. It won’t open.

José Ponte took out his pocketknife as everyone gathered around. He used its point to pick at the left keyhole. The latch popped open. He repeated the procedure on the other side. José raised the lid, revealing layers of soggy women’s clothing and a small silk pouch. When he opened it, a strand of pearls, two large cocktail rings, a gold necklace, and several pairs of earrings spilled out on the grass.

It probably fell from a party yacht and washed ashore, José said in a concerned voice. We’ll have to find its owner.

At that moment Angela’s mother, Olga, who had walked the two blocks from the hospital where she was a nurse, arrived at the gathering. She had been called earlier to help with a medical emergency. Felix Jiménez, her husband went to greet her.

No, not a party yacht, she said, sounding exhausted.

Lina, why don’t you and your friends go into the kitchen and help yourselves to cookies and fresh lemonade? Carmen Ponte said, sensing Olga’s uneasiness. Take Ana María too. Her expression was so serious that they didn’t hesitate to obey.

Felix took his wife’s hand and led her to one of the white wicker chairs. "Mi querida, you look drained," he said.

Olga was visibly shaken. With her hands over her face, she began to relate the events of the morning.

I’m not sure what’s happened, she said as she wiped away tears. The place was swarming with Batista’s soldiers, and we were told to keep quiet. Mrs. Billings, one of three survivors, told me they were flying from Miami to Varadero for their honeymoon when four passengers in olive uniforms pulled out guns and forced the pilots to fly to Preston. The gunmen claimed to be in Castro’s July 26th Movement. She guessed the plane ran out of gas because it went down in the bay near the mouth of the river. Olga looked up at her husband with sadness in her soft blue eyes. Felix, you know how bad the sharks are there—they mangled most of the bodies.

Twice a day the moon pulls the water out of the Mayari River into Nipe Bay. The hungry predators line up at the river’s mouth to fill their bellies with fish sucked out with the current. Low tide was not a good time to be in those waters.

Batista’s men wasted no time getting to the crash sight. Olga caught her breath and continued. They used their machetes to cut off the victims’ fingers so they could steal their rings. By the time I got to the hospital, she whispered, "it was a lost cause.

I overheard one of the soldiers say Mrs. Billings and the other two survivors would be turned over to the U.S. Consulate. Olga paused. I don’t think any of this will be in the newspapers.

José pulled a packet of wet papers from the suitcase. Take a look at these—cards addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Billings. This is her valise. He gently returned the envelopes. I’ll take it to the vice consul tomorrow. He’s a friend of mine. I know where he stays when he visits Preston. He’ll make sure she gets her things.

Felix helped Olga to her feet. Almost six feet tall, he provided a strong pillar for her to lean on.

We’d better head home; you need some rest, he said. He turned to Lina’s mother. May Angela stay a while longer?

Left speechless by Olga’s story, Carmen Ponte simply nodded.

An hour later Lina said good bye to her friends. Her father walked Angela home, and Emilio left with his little sister and their parents.

Lina wondered what had caused the adults’ somber mood. She asked her mother why Señora Jiménez was so tired.

Why was she called to the hospital? Does the suitcase have something to do with the way everyone is acting? What will happen to it? Lina continued to pry, but her mother’s evasiveness turned her curiosity to fear.

CHAPTER 2

The Christmas Party

Lina

The afternoon of Christmas Eve the children were playing in José Marti Park in the center of town. Lina and Angela faced each other, straddling the ends of a park bench, pick-up sticks scattered in front of them. Emilio climbed a monstrous tangle of banyan tree limbs; pounding his chest he hollered a Tarzan imitation. His outcry distracted the girls from their game. They motioned him to join them.

Emilio, what’s the piñata this year? Lina asked as he approached. What will be inside?

You don’t want me to spoil the surprise, do you? Believe me it’s gigantic. He looked up at the sky and made a big circle with his arms. I hope I can break it; it’s really thick.

Lina and I are wearing green velveteen dresses tonight, Angela said, gathering the painted sticks and dropping them in their tube container. Señora Ponte made them with material she got at the mill store. My mami crocheted the white collars. I feel sort of bad about getting all dressed up when the poor don’t have much to wear.

Castro will take care of them, Lina said, swinging her leg over to face Emilio.

He’ll help Cuba. My papi says so. Angela mimicked Lina’s movement.

Did your mami tell you anything more about the suitcase? Emilio asked.

I heard her say it came from a plane that crashed because it ran out of gas. But I think it had something to do with Castro’s men in the mountains. Angela’s voice turned serious. Mami said Batista’s soldiers were stealing everything at the crash site.

I heard Dr. Hernández say when he was at our grocery store that Castro stole the plane for his revolution, Emilio added.

My mami and papi won’t tell me anything, Lina said, "not even when I asked.

Let’s go practice the poem. Lina changed the subject and started to walk toward José Marti’s statue.

You girls ready for the Three Kings Day pageant? Emilio asked as he followed her.

I’m an angel. Lina reached behind her head as if touching her wings. She turned to look at Angela walking behind her. You should be the angel. That’s your name.

I’m too tall, she replied.

I guess I’m the angel because I’m too big to be baby Jesus and too small to be Mary, Lina reasoned out loud.

I’m glad I’m Mary. Angela turned her attention to Emilio. Which of the Three Kings are you?

Melchior. I bring the myrrh. What is myrrh anyway? with a puzzled look he asked his friends.

I don’t know. Lina giggled. Mami would tell us to go look it up. Lina began to sing a chorus of Silent Night, and the others joined in the melody.

We bring gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Emilio said his lines without error.

They approached the bronze plaque beneath the statue.

Let’s read it silently first, Lina said.

I Cultivate a White Rose

by José Marti

I cultivate a white rose In July as in January For the sincere friend Who gives me his hand frankly.

And for the cruel person who tears out The heart with which I live, I cultivate neither nettles nor thorns: I cultivate a white rose.

Let me try. Emilio covered his eyes, delivered the first stanza, and stumbled a bit on the second before he took a peek and finished it.

That’s good. My turn. Lina cleared her throat. She got the July and January mixed up, but the rest was fine.

Angela recited it perfectly.

I think we have it, but we have to keep practicing, Lina said.

Son! Time to get ready for the party. They heard Emilio’s mother, Ana Ortiz, calling him from across the street.

I’m coming. See you girls tonight. He met his mother outside the family grocery store. He helped her fill the piñata with candy and toys. They covered it with an old tablecloth and carried it to their house next door.

Lina and Angela walked down the avenida lined with stately royal palms. When they got to the Ponte house, Lina skipped toward her father, who was coming out of the front door.

See you at the party. They waved to Angela from the porch.

Angela continued on to her home, a block closer to the sugar mill. The small town of Preston was in the province of Oriente, Cuba. Nestled on the bay, it was an ideal place for growing, processing, and exporting sugar products. The plantation, owned by an American company, dominated it.

We’ll take the car to the party; looks like it might rain. Carmen, Lina are you ready? José called as he continued loading the 1949 Dodge with food and gifts.

There were only a few cars in Preston. Their large black sedan was a favorite with the town. Lina loved the way the doors opened from the middle. She and her friends spent hours playing in the parked car, pretending they were traveling across the island. José was generous with his big vehicle. He offered to drive neighbors and friends whenever it was a matter of time, weather, or moving heavy loads.

The Pontes headed for the mill’s recreation hall, a square building that faced the bay and caught a sea breeze any time of the year. The stairs led up to a screen porch that circled the entire structure. Its mahogany doors were always open, ready to receive guests. It was a spacious room with square pillars that supported the mahogany beams and rafters. Large windows allowed the breeze to travel through the vast interior. Soft leather chairs, couches, and varnished serving tables stood scattered throughout. The room boasted a six-teen-foot Christmas tree reaching to the ceiling and an enormous piñata in the shape of an obese Santa Claus in his sleigh.

Thirty or more children dressed in their finest fidgeted as they waited to visit Santa. Lina was in line, but Angela and Emilio felt too grown up to join the younger ones. The round red giant sat in his royal chair next to the towering tree. When it was her turn, Lina stretched on tiptoes to climb on his lap. She didn’t ask for much, just a doll; but she also asked him to bring toys for the poor children.

Come on, it’s time! Ana announced. All of you over here, she instructed as she pointed to the center of the room. The boys and girls gathered under the piñata. Ana told the shorter ones to form an inner circle with the taller ones ranged behind. Lina was in the middle group.

Ana motioned Emilio to come to the center of the ring. He always had the honor of breaking the piñata. It was his mother’s work of art, and only her boy was allowed to destroy it. She put a blindfold over his big brown eyes, handed him the stick, and twirled him around five times.

Emilio swayed as he batted at Santa, but he made little progress, not even a dent.

Harder, over here! the children yelled as they jumped up and down with excitement.

"Hold the