Veronica couldn’t put a finger on her anxiety when she spotted her cruise ship docked with
many others in Havana Bay. The giant vessel stood out in dark silhouette.
Seagulls shrieked from where they nested on reefs. Like a bird sensing danger,
she tensed. Nausea crawled up her throat, and she pressed a fist to her nervous
belly. Staring at her cruise ship plunged her into a troubled state. Throughout
the busy week her thoughts about the goings-on remained nebulous. Vague fears were swallowed up and forgotten.
Until this moment, facing departure tomorrow night, she hadn’t fully processed
what she’d seen onboard. She’d looked the other way when young women had padded
the bras of their bikinis with white chalky powder in packets and brown powder
in toy balloons. Who would she tell anyway, the Cuban military police? She
hoped to heck no one put anything in her luggage. How would a drug bust work
out in a communist country?
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