“Were you?” Neil interrupted.
“Yes,” Ricky said. “I have played with youth teams and then the minor league. Last year I was assigned to the Habana Leones, the top team in the Cuban league.”
Neil whistled. “What’s your position? Your batting average? Are you left-handed, like your uncle?”
“Neil!” I demanded. “Let Ricky tell his story.”
Voices rumbled in the passageway. For a moment they paused just outside the door and we all froze. We heard another stateroom door open, then close, and the voices moved on.
Ricky let out the breath he’d been holding, then told Neil and me about his nighttime trip from Cuba to Haiti. He slumped, adding, “Recently, I was publicly honored by Fidel. To leave Cuba after receiving this honor is not only treason but—in Fidel’s opinion—a terrible personal insult, embarrassing him in the eyes of the world.”
“Have you tried before to leave Cuba?” Neil asked.
“No,” Ricky answered.
“What about when your team played in other countries, like Venezuela? Or in the Atlanta Olympics, or the International World Cup? Couldn’t you have just walked out of your hotel and into an American embassy?”
Ricky’s mouth twisted. “I have not played for the Cuban National team in the United States. I have been allowed to play only in Central and South American countries. When we traveled, we did not stay in dormitories or hotels, as teams from other countries do. Cots were set up for us in the basement rooms of the stadiums. We slept and ate there under guard. We never left the stadiums until it was time for us to board the planes to fly back to Cuba.”
Neil thought a moment before he spoke. “Just a short time ago, two of your Cuban ballplayers asked the United States for political asylum. Rigoberto Herrera Betancourt, one of your pitching coaches, disappeared in Baltimore while the Cuban National team was on the way to the airport after winning over the Orioles. He showed up at a police station and asked for political asylum. He was offered a job with Madison’s Black Wolf team.”
“He had help,” Ricky said quietly. “Like the help Uncle Martín is getting for me.”
Neil looked serious. “The other one was Andy Morales. He was sent back.”
Ricky shivered, rubbing his upper arms as if he were cold. “He tried to escape by boat with around thirty other people. The boat ran out of fuel twentyfive miles from the Florida Keys, and the United States Coast Guard intercepted them. The Immigration and Naturalization Service sent all of them back to Cuba. That is the rule. If you’re picked up at sea, you’re sent back. If you set foot on U.S. soil, you can ask for asylum.”
My heart gave a jump as I thought of what it would be like to be sent back to Cuba. “What happened to Andy Morales?” I asked.
“It was announced that he had decided to quit baseball, since he was overrated as a player, and had chosen instead to work for the Cuban National Sports Institute, overseeing sports programs,” Ricky said.
“Oh, well, if he was overrated—” I began, but Ricky interrupted.
“That is not true. That is what the government announced. That is what the press reported. Anyone who tries to escape Cuba is publicly discredited. I know Andy. I know how he loves baseball and what a good player he is. And I do not believe giving it up was his choice.”
I looked at my watch again. It was five minutes to four. The ship was supposed to leave the harbor at four. Glory would be here soon to change for dinner. I had to break into the conversation.
“Neil, someone from Cuba is on this ship searching for Ricky,” I said. “We can’t let them find him. You said that your stateroom was connected to your grandmother’s but separate. Could he share your stateroom for a while? Can you keep him hidden?”
“Yes,” Neil said. He turned to Ricky. “We can stop off at your uncle’s stateroom and get your clothes.”
“That would not be wise!” Ricky exclaimed. “The stateroom may be watched.”
Neil shrugged. “We’re about the same size. You can borrow some of my clothes for now.” A smile flickered on his face as he said to me, “Except for my Hawaiian shirts.”
“Will there be any problem with your grandmother?” I asked Neil. “Is there any chance she’ll discover Ricky?”
“None,” Neil said. “Grandma is hard of hearing and has poor eyesight. Besides, she always knocks and waits for me to open the door to my room. We won’t have trouble keeping her from knowing Ricky is there. He’ll have time to duck into the bathroom to hide.”
The jangle of the telephone made me jump. As I reached for the receiver I realized my hands were shaking. “Y-yes?” I asked.
“Rosie,” Glory said, “at least I found you . Do you have any idea where Neil is?”
“He’s here,” I answered, quickly adding, “There’s a bunch of us here.”
“Well, I’m in Eloise’s stateroom,” Glory told me. “I helped her dress for dinner. Tell Neil to come on up. I’ve got to leave Eloise to get dressed myself.”
“I’ll tell him,” I said. As I hung up the phone, I relayed the message.
Neil strode to the door, but Ricky hung back. As he pulled his straw hat down over his face, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands from trembling. “Por favor, check the passageway first,” he whispered. “Is anyone out there?”
Opening the door, Neil stepped out of the stateroom, looking to both sides. “All clear,” he said.
To my surprise, Ricky took my hands and lightly kissed my cheek. I felt his breath warm against my ear. “Thank you, Rose,” he murmured.
Even if I’d found the words to answer him, I didn’t have the chance. Ricky slipped through the door, shutting it behind him.
I backed up, sitting on one of the twin beds. The salt-and-sun fragrance of Ricky’s skin was still with me, and I liked it.
Within a few minutes Glory burst into the stateroom and stopped short, staring at me. “You’re still in your bathing suit? You haven’t dressed yet? Well, I suppose we’ll fight over who gets the shower first. What in the world have you been doing, Rosie?”
How was I supposed to answer that question truthfully? I could hardly say “I was helping to hide a political escapee.” Trying to change the subject, I asked, “How did your bridge game go?”
“My partner and I are scoring high,” Glory said smugly. “If we keep getting dealt hands like the ones we’ve been getting, we’re going to win some big prizes.”
She grinned mischievously. “One thing about your grandmother, Rosie. I may be growing older faster than I’d like to, but I still have plenty of energy—more than some people in our bridge group. Alice and Myrna have cratered. They said they’d never make it to the dining room and are going to have room service.”
“You’re not getting old, Glory,” I began, but Glory didn’t seem to expect an answer. She had already found her shower cap and cosmetics bag and was heading for the bathroom.
As I walked to the chest of drawers to get my own things, I felt the movement of the ship. We were setting sail. I changed direction, sliding open the glass door to the balcony, and stepped outside. Haiti was rapidly turning into a shrinking blur of deep green mist, and a small powerboat was leaving the ship, bouncing up and down in the wake.
I leaned over the rail and stared, trying to make out the three figures in the boat. Was one of them wearing a khaki uniform? From this distance it appeared so, but it was hard to tell. If the military officer from Cuba had left the ship, then he had stopped looking for Ricky. I straightened, breathing a long sigh of relief. Ricky would be safe.
“Your turn!” Glory called, and I hurried back into the stateroom to shower and dress.
I wondered how I could find out if the officer from Cuba had given up the search for Ricky. I hadn’t been able to see the figures in the boat clearly. What if my guess was wrong and the officer was still on board? Would Mr. Diago—Mr. Urbino—know? Could I ask him? Or would it be better to pretend I knew nothing of Ricky’s attempt to escape?
What should
I do?
I didn’t have a clue what my next move should be. But as my mind drifted back to my conversation with Ricky and the warm feeling it gave me when he called me Rose, I did make one decision. I might just change my name.
6
AS I STEPPED OUT OF THE ELEVATOR, TRAILING FAR behind Glory, Julieta suddenly appeared. She looked at me accusingly. “You said you’d meet me. None of you came.”
I gulped and took a step backward. “Oh, no,” I said without thinking. “With all that was happening, I forgot.”
Julieta’s eyes narrowed as she stared at me suspiciously. “What was happening?”
I fumbled for an answer. There was no way I could tell her about Ricky. “Well, we got to talking, and then Glory called from the Flemings’ stateroom and said that Neil’s grandmother needed him, and then I had to get ready for dinner, and . . . well, I forgot we had said we’d meet you.”
Julieta turned away, the hurt she was feeling clouding her eyes.
I put a hand on her arm. “Look, Julieta, I’m really sorry. There’s a problem we had to solve, and I was a little scared . . . well, worried. I’m still not sure what to do.”
“What problem?” Her look changed to one of open curiosity.
“I can’t . . . that is, it’s a personal problem.”
“You can tell me.”
“No, I can’t.”
Julieta’s eyes sparked, and she gave a little snicker. “I’ll find out sooner or later. If there’s something I really want to know, nothing can keep me from finding out.”
I was astonished. “I’d tell you if I could, but—”
Neil’s arrival with his grandmother stopped me from blurting out what I really wanted to say— that Julieta had no business being so nosy. Neil bent over his grandmother as he introduced her to Julieta.
Mrs. Fleming, peering intently at both of us, mixed us up. She graciously told me she was happy to meet me and told Julieta she hoped she’d enjoyed the snorkeling trip as much as Neil had.
Julieta rested her long fingers on Neil’s arm. “I wish we were at the same dinner seating,” she said, pouting. “But we’re not. Why don’t we meet at ten at Star Struck? They’re going to have a karaoke contest.”
“I’m sorry,” Neil said. “This has been a long day, and I’m beat. I’m going to spend the evening with Grandma.”
Julieta looked at me with a challenge in her eyes. “I suppose you’ll be with your friend Ricky,” she said.
“No, I won’t,” I said quickly. “I don’t know what Ricky will be doing.”
“Then come with me to Star Struck. Ten o’clock.” She looked as friendly as when I’d first met her.
I hesitated. I would have liked to go to Star Struck to find out what the other kids on the ship were doing and dance to some good music, but I wanted to be available in case Ricky needed me. “We’ll be docking in Jamaica tomorrow morning. How about going sightseeing together?” I asked Julieta. “Or will you be with your parents?”
She brightened. “They won’t care what I do. Want to sign up for the tour group that’s climbing the Dunn’s River Falls?”
“I’d love to.”
Mrs. Fleming twisted in her wheelchair to look up at Neil. “When are we going into the dining room? I’m getting hungry,” she said.
“Right now, Grandma,” Neil answered.
“See you later,” I said to Julieta. Glory had already entered the dining room, so I walked beside Neil as we headed toward our table.
Quietly, so only I could hear, Neil said, “I ordered room service for him. I told him to sign my name.”
I looked up, surprised. “Thanks,” I said. Guiltily, I realized that I hadn’t thought about feeding Ricky.
“A boat left the ship just before we sailed from Bonita Beach,” I told Neil. “I think that military officer was on it.”
Neil gave a shrug. “And maybe he wasn’t. Ricky phoned his uncle’s stateroom. His uncle told him to stay where he was. The uncle doesn’t trust anyone.”
“Neither does Ricky,” I said.
“He doesn’t like being cooped up in our stateroom,” Neil said. “He’s sure that the search for him was called off once the ship set sail. But I made him promise to stay there while we were at dinner.”
Neil came to a stop at our table and turned to give me a strange, almost yearning look I didn’t understand. “I think he trusts you, Rosie,” he said.
I took a deep breath and heard myself saying, “Neil, I’m too old to be called Rosie. From now on will you call me Rose?”
“Sure,” Neil said. “Rose.”
I winced. It didn’t sound the same as when Ricky spoke my name.
Neil busied himself making his grandmother comfortable. Then he sat next to me. “Your new friend wants you to call the stateroom when dinner is over,” he said, then turned to Mrs. Duncastle to continue their discussion about baseball.
During dinner, with the wonderful food and the golden staircase and the glittering chandeliers, I felt guilty about Mom. Mom loved shrimp cocktail. Mom’s favorite show tunes were included in a piano medley. Why hadn’t I made peace with her before I left on the trip?
Right after dinner I went to the ship’s library, where a sign on the desk listed the e-mail rate as fifty cents a minute. I had some spending money. I could pay Glory back.
Dear Mom, I typed. I miss you. You don’t always think I want to talk to you, but I really do, and I would if you’d give me the chance. Glory listens, but you . . .
I deleted everything back to I miss you and started over. I wanted to tell her about Ricky, but how did I know who else would read this e-mail? Hadn’t there been lots of stories in the news about e-mail not really being private? I couldn’t write about Ricky.
Dear Mom, I miss you. You’d love this ship, and I keep thinking how I wish you were here. Someday maybe you and I can take a cruise together. I hope so. I love you, Rose Ann.
I clicked Send and OK.
I flopped back in the chair, disappointed. I hadn’t said any of the things I really wanted to say. I hadn’t written anything that would make up for the argument Mom and I’d had. When I saw how much time it had taken me to write an e-mail that added up to the same old “wish you were here,” I was shocked. At fifty cents a minute?
It was close to eight o’clock by my watch, so I went to the stateroom and telephoned Ricky. Glory and some of her friends had gone to the lounge to see the evening’s entertainment. I was eager to talk to Ricky, even if it was only for a few moments.
I expected Neil to answer the phone, but instead I heard Ricky’s voice.
“I want to see you, Rose,” he said.
“That might not be a good idea,” I told him. “We don’t want to disturb Neil’s grandmother.”
“I didn’t mean here,” Ricky said. “Can we find a quiet place on the ship?”
“There are no quiet places on this ship,” I cautioned. “For your own safety, you should stay where you are.”
“The sunbathing deck should be deserted. Meet me by the forward elevators on deck twelve in five minutes. And wear a sweater. Night winds off the ocean can be chilly.”
“Someone might see you in the elevator.”
“I will take care not to be seen,” Ricky answered.
“You’re taking a chance, Ricky. . . . Ricky?” But he had hung up the phone.
I shivered as I put down the receiver. I pulled on a light sweater and hurried from our stateroom. All I could do was try to convince Ricky to return to Mrs. Fleming’s suite and stay there until we knew for sure he was safe. I was frightened, but at the same time I was deliriously happy that he wanted to be with me. The feelings didn’t mix well.
Rounding a corner, I nearly bumped into Tommy, the cruise director, who was pacing in front of the elevator bank. As he jabbed at the button, a woman laughed and said, “That won’t make it come any sooner.”
“I don’t have much time. I’ve got to find a few minutes of peace and quiet,” he complained.
/>
The woman glanced at me. Tommy did too, but he went back to what he was saying as if I weren’t there. Plenty of people were like that, I thought. If you were a kid you were nonexistent. You couldn’t see, hear, or think. I hadn’t liked Tommy Jansen when I first saw him on deck, and now I liked him even less.
Tommy glanced at his watch and said to the woman, “I have to be back to close the first show in an hour and then get ready for the second show.” He let out a sigh and added, “They didn’t tell me I’d be on with this charming and smiling stuff twenty-four hours around the clock.”
“I know,” the woman said, “or you wouldn’t have taken the job.” She rolled her eyes as if she’d heard his story over and over again.
Tommy shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I took it because I was broke and badly needed the money. You don’t know anybody who’s got a few thousand dollars he doesn’t know what to do with, do you?”
“Oh, sure,” the woman said. “Lots of people.”
One of the elevator bells dinged, the doors opened, and the two of them stepped in. I stayed where I was. I didn’t like being ignored, and I didn’t want to hear any more of Tommy’s complaining. As soon as their elevator left, I pressed the Up button, and in just a few seconds another elevator arrived— an empty elevator, I was glad to see.
When I stepped out onto deck twelve, there was no sign of Ricky. Aft on the deck, past the swimming pools, I could see tiny figures silhouetted in the golden glare of a sweep of bright windows, creatures in another world, far away and soundless. I walked from the light of the elevator area into the darkness near the rail. Ricky had been right. The night wind was chilly, and I shivered.
“Rose.”
Ricky took my hand and led me through an open doorway into the dimness of the prow. But suddenly I stopped, alert to the sound of footsteps behind us.
Playing for Keeps Page 6
