Chapter 5

Reviewingthe notes she’d made on the back of a page torn from a syllabus, Sam sat in her car outside The American Museum of the Cuban Diaspora. It was an imposing building, stark white with massive columns that looked more like a bank than a museum.

Running her fingertips over the thin gold chain hidden under her button-down shirt, Sam reworked her opening joke. Self-deprecating humor was usually a surefire way to win an audience, but she had to use it lightly when talking about her family’s harrowing journey across the treacherous Florida Straits. A journey that claimed so many lives.

Speaking engagements like these — ones about her life and how it informed her areas of research — were harder than discussing the work itself. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of two gold bands warmed by her body and grazing her sternum when she tugged on the chain. The weight around her neck and against her chest kept her grounded. Focused.

Sam slid out of her Subaru, slipped on her tweed blazer she could only wear on rare cool nights, and started inside where a few hundred people were gathered in the museum’s small theater.

She’d been on her way to the front of the stage — where an octogenarian with a clipboard and don’t-even-think-about-it scowl was checking in the evening’s other speakers — when she made a hard left toward the small cash bar selling wine and beer.

Wearing a short dress a shade of deep blue only found in midnight skies, Natalia was typing away on her phone while waiting in line for a drink. Unable to stop the smile from springing onto her lips, Sam’s nerves vanished at the unexpected delight of seeing Natalia again.

“Ms. Flores, I had no idea you were such a scholar,” Sam said when she slipped in behind her and prayed she’d die drowning in Natalia’s perfume.

Natalia turned like a silk canopy catching a warm summer breeze. She was so much closer than she had been in the lecture hall. Her eyes were darker and more alluring. Her frosty aura was as tempting as the one-more-drink she’d regret in the morning.

“Do you have a lot of ideas about me, Professor?” Natalia’s tone was one of challenge, perhaps intended to make Sam shrink, but it only made her ache to rise.

Attention snagging on Natalia’s full lips, painted fashionably black as if to show off the steadiness of her hand, Sam chuckled before forcing her gaze back to her eyes — rich brown and enchanting.

“The university professor’s life is one fraught with ideas. Intellectual and esoteric musings and more questions than could be answered in the blink we get for mortal lives. I dare say I think quite a bit.”

“And here I thought you valued… linguistic economy,” she shot back with a daring flick of her brow.

Sam’s skin tingled, her chest lightened. The sensation spread until she was so weightless, she nearly floated when she laughed. “It appears that both of us have made assumptions in need of correcting.” They advanced toward the table set up with refreshments. “Maybe it would have been better to start with a question. What brings you here on a crisp January evening?”

Natalia didn’t drop her door-slamming-shut vibe, but Sam couldn’t miss the flicker behind it. Her late-night Google search told her that Natalia Flores was a force of nature. A Nile crocodile in Italian stilettos. Sam might have been wary of her, but she was too good at reading coded misogyny. The way she’d been described as ruthless and cunning had more to do with the fact that she didn’t smile than her business practices.

They reached the makeshift bar before Natalia answered the question. Making Sam wait. Drawing out her curiosity. Gaining the upper-hand. Sam let her have it because playing conversational chess with Natalia was her new favorite thing in the world.

Taking a bottle of water, Sam moved off to the side and waited for Natalia to meet her with a glass of wine in hand.

“I would have expected that Costco Chardonnay would taste like battery acid to a refined palate,” Sam said when Natalia sauntered toward her, shapely hips signaling illicit promises.

Natalia took a sip from the plastic cup without leaving her lipstick on the rim. “I thought we were going to stop making assumptions, Professor.”

Sam laughed. Natalia’s change in tactic was obvious, but Sam was interested to see what Flirty Natalia had over Demanding Natalia. Even though no version of her was getting the book.

“You never answered my question,” Sam reminded, exactly like Natalia probably intended. “Are you a friend of the museum? I’m certain I would have noticed you at last month’s barbecue.”

Natalia moistened her lips in a way that made Sam envious of her tongue. “I am a member of the Cuban-American community, Professor. Even those of us who were born here are interested in remaining connected to our culture.”

Judging by Natalia’s timeline of accomplishments, Sam guessed she couldn’t be too far off from Sam’s fifty years of age, even though she looked closer to thirty than fifty.

“When did your family emigrate?”

“Immediately,” Natalia replied. “They were on a plane to the Dominican Republic on New Year’s Day 1959.”

Sam leaned back, making an impossible connection to the date and location. “Same day as Batista?” she asked, referencing the overthrown Cuban president.

Natalia tipped her head to the side. “Same plane.”

“Your family was part of his regime?” Sam ignored the man trying to get her attention.

“My grandfather was,” she replied, shifting her weight and giving away some discomfort at the topic.

“When did they come to Miami? Have you ever been to Cuba?” Sam had more questions than time.

“They were only in the DR long enough to develop an obsession with yaniqueque.” She took another sip of wine, eyes locked on Sam. “And I’ve never been back.” She hesitated. “Strange to say back when I’ve never been at all.”

Sam nodded. “We live in the impossible in-between. We live in the Cuba of our family’s memories. A place that doesn’t exist.”

Natalia’s expression registered that she related to the quandary but wanted to change the topic. “Just as well, since I’ll never go. Apparently, we’re on a list,” she said with a sprinkling of uncertainty.

“That’s probably true,” Sam replied, stepping closer when the surrounding crowd thickened. “As far removed as you are, they’d probably still flag you at the airport. Are your parents?—“

“Have you returned?” Natalia stepped in closer, the noise from the conversation next to them making her raise her voice.

“Once,” she said, despite the intrusive memories. “When the government was allowing educational excursions. It was traumatic if I’m blunt?—”

“I like blunt,” Natalia decided, attention focused like she’d been expecting some flowery response and was pleased to have gotten the truth.

“Nothing looked right,” Sam continued. “Strangers were in the house I’d grown up in. Where we’d left all of our belongings. Where I’d last seen my grandmother sitting on our front porch sewing something by hand and never saw her again.” An old pain that hadn’t lessened in decades wrapped around her chest and clutched her windpipe.

“I’m sorry,” Natalia said so softly Sam almost believed her.

“Dr. Reyes,” Scowling Clipboard said when she reached her, obviously annoyed that Sam had broken protocol by not reporting to her when she arrived. “We’re ready to begin.”

“I’ll be there in just a second,” Sam promised, before turning back to Natalia. “Is my book the only reason you’re here? Be honest.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Dr. Reyes?” Her tone made it clear that she was launching more of a taunt than a question.

“Never.” She smiled. “But I am hoping for a particular response.” She leaned in close enough for her lips to graze the shell of Natalia’s ear if she wasn’t careful. “If you can go a couple of hours without trying to pitch me, let me take you to dinner.”

“Dr. Reyes,” Clipboard called again.

Slipping away from Natalia, Sam wished she had more time. Hoped that Natalia was interested in more than just the Lilith myth. She turned away from her without an answer.

Pulse dancing with possibility as she started toward the stage, Sam couldn’t resist glancing back. Couldn’t suppress her grin when she found Natalia was still looking at her. Eyes on her body in a way that could be described as anything but professional.