“Yes. Lots of beaches,” Kerry assured him.
“Will there be other kids?” he followed up with what had to be his hundredth question.
“I’m sure there are. Little kids just like you,” Kerry confirmed distractedly.
DeKalb-Peachtree Airport was the smaller airport in the Atlanta area. It hosted private flights and connections for rich and famous residents who lived nearby. Those wanting to avoid the behemoth on the other side of the perimeter of the city that was Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. Still, the gate areas were packed and busy that fall afternoon, just a few days before Halloween. Cobwebs and other festive decorations had been applied to the many check-in stations and service counters at each gate. Women with wrists heavy with diamonds chased toddlers. Old couples sat reading matching bestsellers. Everyone looked at their watches every so often.
Baba Seti was dressed in another kufi and matching long shirt. He arrived at the airport with one shoulder bag that looked like a doctor’s old attaché case. “This is all I’ll need,” he’d said to Kerry after bowing again, like she was royalty. “The community will provide the rest.”
Kerry told him not to bring up Jamison in front of Tyrian. She wanted to wait to tell him about his father once they were there and she knew they were to be reunited. This was a boy who believed and was just getting used to the idea that his father was dead.
When the pilot Kerry had hired walked up and waved at them, Kerry told Tyrian to get his things together and stood to look down the long lobby hallway to see if Val was coming.
There was nothing.
An attendant came over to gather their bags and Kerry took Tyrian’s hand. While he’d been on several planes before, he’d been much younger and hardly remembered. She reminded him of how long they’d be in the air and that his ears would pop and had some chewing gum stashed in her pocket just in cas
e he complained about it hurting.
“It is time,” Baba Seti said like they were about to set off on some valiant mission.
Kerry smiled and remembered Jamison’s face in the picture she’d had hanging over her bed at jail. Her heart warmed and she assured herself again that she was doing the right thing.
The party began to walk toward the gate to board the small plane they’d take to hop to several destinations en route to the Cuban airport in Havana.
Just when they got to the door, Kerry heard Val’s voice.
“Hold up! Wait for us!”
Kerry felt nerves ease and the tension melt away just with the sound of that voice.
“I’m here! Val Long!”
Kerry let go of Tyrian’s hand and turned with tears already welling up.
Val was a few steps away, walking in front of a big brown man with big brown arms that seemed appropriate for all of the bags he was carrying.
Val was waving their tickets and running toward Kerry.
“You came,” Kerry said.
“Yes. Change of heart at the last minute. Couldn’t let you do this alone.” Val hugged Kerry and pinched Tyrian’s cheek. She turned to her bag carrier. “And he wouldn’t let me do this without him.” She pointed to her companion. “Kerry, this is Ernest. Ernest, this is Kerry.”
Kerry shook Ernest’s hand and hugged Val like she was her sister. “Thank you,” she said to Val.
“Of course.”
Preparing to land in Havana, Kerry looked out of the window, thinking of how the city looked nothing like she’d expected. From all of the talk about poor people and dilapidated towns in Cuba, she thought it would be some kind of tent city or village of shacks with nothing but mud piles and children running barefoot to be seen from the sky. But this vision was nothing like that. From the little circular window on the jet, this part of Cuba looked like any other metropolis. It was nightfall and the lights from skyscrapers and downtown streets twinkled a happy hello. The city was packed in with concrete buildings and cars on the road. On the outskirts, there were suburban communities with tennis courts and swimming pools. It could remind her of Atlanta if it wasn’t for the stunning blue sea rolling up on the shore.
Kerry thought to point some things out to Tyrian, but he’d long tuckered out. And had his heavy head resting in her lap. In fact, everyone on the plane but Kerry and the pilot was asleep. Val had her head resting on her mystery man’s shoulder. And Baba Seti must’ve worn himself out from all of his talk, because he’d nodded off and his kufi had fallen to the floor.
“You ready for this?” Kerry asked herself aloud. It was the thought that got her through the ten-hour hopscotch trip it took to get to Cuba. As her traveling companions had engaged in pedestrian conversation, Kerry sunk inside of herself and considered what it would be like to see Jamison again. What she would say to him. Would she let go of the pain of losing him and finding him again? Would she be angry? Would she be mad? Maybe she’d fight him at first, but in her heart, she knew that wouldn’t last long. She had to touch him. To kiss him again. To hear him say he loved her. If she could just have that one more time . . . Just to hear those words . . .
Kerry rubbed at the little band on her left-hand ring finger. It was her first wedding ring. The one Jamison brought her when he was still a poor man with a dream. He’d promised so much. Was filled with so much potential, so much promise. He’d been a contagious infliction of love and light in her life. They were a part of each other.
The steward walked down the aisle and took the announcement receiver from its holder on the wall. “All right. Looks like we’re about to land in Havana,” he said with his voice still burdened by newly ended sleep.
The party began to move a little to the sound of his voice. Val opened one eye and peeked out of the window. She nudged Ernest and pointed to the romantic Havana night. “We’re here,” she said.