Innocent Betrayal

CHAPTER I

     My life seems to have fallen into a dark tunnel of uncertainty.  After the tests our love endured since we met, the battles Victor and I had to wage against Cuban secret police to keep that love whole before escaping from Cuba, and what we have had to struggle with here in Miami to forge our future, now Victor is adamant about returning to the island that was hell for both of us.  I never thought that I would find myself in the dilemma of having to choose between my husband and the United States.

     I barely remembered my past plagued with intrigues and betrayal until Victor started with his obsession.  Despite his stubbornness, I’ve tried to ignore him and the painful experiences I suffered in my homeland which threaten to resurface in my memory.  I believe that if I humor him, he’ll forget his insane idea and I’ll be able to recover my peace of mind. 

     The past, however, managed to invade the present like storm clouds overtaking a clear blue sky.  When I thought I was finally regaining my balance, I ran into Carlos Pardo, an ex-commandant of la Seguridad, Cuba’s secret police, in the lobby of the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach.  I had gone to this iconic resort and architectural masterpiece to have lunch with friends and colleagues with whom I had worked years before.  I recognized his unmistakable masculine demeanor while I walked down the white marble staircase that cascades gracefully from the mezzanine to the sun-filled lobby with its sprawling crystal chandeliers.  As I looked at him filled with surprise and trepidation, I felt as if I had stepped into a time-machine and hurled back violently to my turbulent past.

     I remember that when I met Pardo, I thought that with his lean build, striking classic features and those feline, ash-gray eyes, he should have been a model featured in a gentlemen’s fashion magazine.  I observed he had maintained his physique despite the years that had elapsed.  Only his black hair had succumbed to time; now his thick mane was the color of his eyes.

     As soon as I saw this “ghost” of the past, all the memories that I had maintained sealed in the farthest corner of my mind escaped like moths searching for light.  Although my first impulse was to ignore him, my curiosity conquered and I decided to confront Pardo.

     He turned toward the stairs as if drawn by my eyes, but he did not recognize me at first.  It was only natural, because my appearance had also surrendered to time.  My characteristic long, black hair had been trimmed in a modern cut and the onyx color had melted into honey with golden highlights. 

     Despite his first reaction, he recognized me as I got closer and he came toward me smiling.

     “Vicky, what a surprise!  You’re looking so well!  You’ve hardly changed!” he said using my old nom de guerre.