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“He’s going to be our houseguest. I knew this would probably upset you, so I asked Tia if she would act as a chaperone.”
    “Chaperone! I asked her to chaperone you in Havana, and what did you do? You posed naked for a cabrón to take pictures of you for all of Cuba to see,” he said, answering his own question.
    “Samuel Cole is not a cabron , Papa. He is decent, respectful. He told me that he felt uncomfortable being alone with me in the garden that night at the Morenos’.”
    “You know nothing about this man. You don’t even know if he’s married or has children.”
    “He has neither.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I asked him, Papa. You’re afraid I’m going to shame you when it is the last thing I want to do. I want to be able to fall in love and select my own husband, not someone you feel is suitable for me. You married for love. Why shouldn’t I?”
    Jose Luis gave her a direct stare. “Are you saying you’re in love with this American?”
    “He has a name, Papa. It’s Samuel.”
    Jose Luis threw up a hand. “Oh, now it’s Samuel?”
    “Yes, Papa. Samuel Cole.”
    “You love this Samuel?”
    “No, Papa. But I do like him. A lot. But if I’m not permitted to spend time with him, then I’ll never know if I can fall in love with him.”
    “You would actually consider marrying a foreigner when you can choose from any Cubano? ”
    M.J.’s spine straightened as she lifted her chin. The gesture of defiance was not lost on Jose Luis. “If I love him, yes.”
    “How do you know he likes you?” Jose Luis asked, deciding on another approach. “You are throwing yourself at him when he may be toying with you. Men are known to do that until they get what they want.”
    Twin dimples kissed her cheeks like thumbprints. “He must like me because he did return to Cuba.” Her smile faded, a frown taking its place. “He will not use me, Papa, because I won’t let him.”
    “You let Antonio Santamaria use you.”
    “He did not use me. I trusted him and he deceived me.”
    “And you believe you can trust this American?”
    Her delicate jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth. A faraway expression in the dark eyes made M.J. appear older, wise beyond her years.
    “Right now I don’t trust any man. Including you, Papa. You plot behind my back to arrange for me to marry strangers—men whom you believe would be perfect husbands for me.” Her angry gaze swung back to her father. “If you force me to marry someone I have not chosen for myself I swear on my mother’s grave that I will bring shame on you and this house by taking lovers—as many and as often as I can.”
    A shocking and paralyzing fear would not permit Jose Luis to utter a sound. Sharp pains knifed his chest as objects became fuzzy. He clutched his chest, praying for the pain to stop as the image of his own father holding his chest at the dinner tablebefore he collapsed, facedown, into the food on his plate came back in vivid clarity. His father died as he and Gloria witnessed the last seconds of his life. Miraculously the tightness eased, his vision cleared, and he drew in a lungful of air.
    “You cannot, Marguerite-Josefina,” he whispered hoarsely.
    “I will, Papa, if you force me to marry someone I do not love.”
    He knew he had lost the battle. Marguerite-Josefina was too much like her aunt. “What do you want from me, Chica? ”
    M.J. walked over to her father and hugged him. “I want you to trust me, Papa. I want you to see me happy. I do not like the men you want for me. They are boring, weak, and they repulse me.”
    Jose Luis tightened his hold on her slender body. “Pedro Acevedo comes from one of the best families in Cuba.”
    “He looks like a frog! And he’s old and ugly.” Pulling back, she stared up at Jose Luis. “I cannot change who I am or what I want.”
    Jose Luis buried his face in her fragrant black hair. “I don’t want you to change, Chica. You’ve always brought joy to my old heart.”
    “You’re