They were going back to Cuba, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.
So this was the last verse, Isabel thought. After everything they’d been through, after everything they’d lost, their climactic ending wasn’t going to be climactic after all. Theirs wasn’t a son cubano, with its triumphant finale; theirs was a fugue, a musical theme that was repeated again and again without resolution. Their coda was to be forever homeless, even when returned to their own home. Forever refugees in their own land.
The US Coast Guard had found them.
“Geraldo,” Isabel’s mother said, but Papi didn’t answer. He sat frozen with all the others as a bright white searchlight clicked on. A ship motor—a real motor, attached to a real propeller—roared to life.
“Geraldo,” Mami said again, “it’s started.”
“No,” he said. “It’s over. For all of us. They’re going to take us to Guantanamo.”
The searchlight swung around toward them.
“No,” Mami said, hands on her bulging stomach, her voice tinged with alarm. “No, I mean, it’s started. The baby’s coming!”
The head of every single person in the little boat turned in surprise.
Isabel sat down with a splash in the water. She didn’t know what to think.
How to feel. She’d been put through the wringer—the elation of leaving Cuba, the exhaustion of the storm, the horror of Iván’s death, the relief at seeing the lights of Miami, the despair of running into the Coast Guard ship and knowing they would never get to el norte. And now her mother was having a baby. Isabel’s baby brother. Isabel could only sit lifelessly and stare. She had nothing left to give.
“I’m not staying in that refugee camp at Guantanamo behind a barbed- wire fence,” Lito said. “That’s just trading one prison for another. I’ll go back to Cuba. Back to my home. Castro said he won’t punish anyone who tried to leave.”
“Unless he’s changed his mind again,” Amara said.
It was Luis who saw the Coast Guard searchlight sweep past them on the water and point somewhere else.
“Maybe none of us will have to go to Guantanamo!” Luis said. “Look!
They’re not after us! The Coast Guard is after someone else!”
Isabel watched as the searchlight found another craft on the water a few hundred meters away. It was a raft full of refugees, just like them!
“More Cubans?” Amara asked.
“It doesn’t matter!” Señor Castillo said. “Now’s our chance! Paddle for shore! Quickly!”
Isabel spared her mother a look, then grabbed a water jug carved into a scoop and started rowing as hard as she could. So did Lito, Amara, and the Castillos.
“But be quiet,” Lito whispered. “Sound carries a long way on the water.”
“Ohhh!” Isabel’s mother cried.
“Shhh, Teresa,” Papi said, holding her hand. “Don’t have the baby yet— wait until we get to Florida!”
Isabel’s mother gritted her teeth and nodded, tears welling in her eyes.
The lights of Miami got closer, but they were still so far away. Isabel glanced behind her. In the darkness, she could pick out the lights of the Coast Guard ship, alongside another dark craft. Shadowy figures were moving back and forth between the two.
They were taking the refugees on board to send them back to Cuba.
“Ohhh!” Isabel’s mother cried, her voice like a cannon shot in the quiet.
“Row, row,” Señor Castillo whispered.
They were so close! Isabel could see which hotel rooms had their lights on and which were off, could hear bongos beating out a rhythm over the water. A rhumba.
“The current’s taking us north,” Luis whispered. “We’re going to miss it!”
“It doesn’t matter—as long as we’re standing on land, we’re safe!” Lito said, his voice thin from exertion. “We just can’t be caught on the water!
Row!”
“OHHHH!” Isabel’s mother screamed, her voice booming out across the
water.
BWEEP-BWEEP!
The Coast Guard cutter made the same sound as before, and its searchlight lit up their little boat. They’d found them!
“No!” Isabel’s mother sobbed. “No! I want to have my baby in el norte!”
“ROW!” Señor Castillo yelled, giving up entirely on being quiet.
Behind them, the Coast Guard cutter’s motor roared to life.
Isabel churned at the water, bending her flimsy jug-paddle in her desperation. Tears streamed down her face, from sorrow or fear or exhaustion, she didn’t know.
All she knew was that they were still too far from shore.
The Coast Guard ship was going to catch them before they reached Miami.