November 30, Monday

It’s early afternoon as I drive toward Búzios, a beach village north of Rio that’s a major destination for the jet set. The flight south was uneventful and I’m brimming with anticipation at the thought of meeting an artist in the village Arraial do Cabo, just south of Búzios. There’s water on both sides of the road: on the right, the ocean, with its booming waves, and on the left, calm salt pans. I find her studio without difficulty, but I’m surprised that it looks like a car mechanic’s shack. I park and clap my hands to announce my arrival.

“Oi in the house!”

A compact woman with a tight Afro and piercing gaze wipes her hands on her paint-spattered denim apron and comes toward me. “You must be Eva.”

I smile and nod. “Yes, and you are Maya? I am so excited to meet you.”

Her look remains serious. “I was surprised when the owner of the new gallery in João Pessoa called to arrange a meeting for us. Most of my commissions are in Europe. Here it’s usually tourists who want some art to match the color of the sofa.” She snorts in derision.

“No, Dona Maya, I want folkloric pieces for my new restaurant, Jaxi.”

“Jaxi? Are you a moon worshipper?”

I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows indigenous language. “I guess maybe I am. I would love to see your work, if I may?”

She takes me into the studio, where various pieces are in progress. Brightly painted dark wood carvings representing folk traditions, a procession following a costumed ox, women worshipping the mermaid goddess Yemanjá who rides on aqua waves. These are powerful naïve works depicting the Northeast of Brazil.

“Well then, Eva, tell me what you have in mind.”

We sit at a work table and I show her the layout of the restaurant and the two long walls of the main dining room, where I would display her work exclusively. After calculating measurements and some brainstorming, we arrive at twelve pieces, on one side folk traditions and the other animals and plants.

She sits back and looks at me. “One more thing, let me show you some photos.” She opens an album with pictures of her commissions in Europe, some of them huge carved doors. This is the pièce de resistance I hadn’t thought of. After the foyer and host stand, there is a double doorway, and I’ll put these doors there, with the theme of the moon in all her phases. We agree on price and delivery time, and Maya will oversee the installation.

“Maya, I am thrilled. Your work is just what I needed to bring Jaxi to life. Thank you.”

She smiles broadly and extends her hand. “It’s a deal.”

As I get up to leave I turn to ask her a question. “I’m going to stay overnight in Búzios, but I’ve never been there before. Can you recommend a nice inn? Not touristy.”

She nods. “Dois Tucanos. Very nice and calm. From the main road take the first left toward the beach, it’s on a bluff above the ocean.”

“Great, thank you so much!” I wave to her as I drive away.

Pousada Dois Tucanos is a curvaceous stucco structure with a painted, carved wooden sign on the front of two toucan birds just like the name, and I recognize it’s Maya’s work. The young lady at reception offers me a room with a balcony view of the sea.

I take the key. “Thank you. Are there any nice restaurants open nearby? I’m a chef and really interested in innovative cuisine.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “The best restaurant is right here, but it’s only open on the weekends. One of the inn’s owners is a retired chef, so he doesn’t cook full time. He does a lot of interesting dishes.”

“I see you have a bar, when is it open? I’d love to talk with the chef if he’s around.”

“The bar’s really open any time. Why don’t you settle in and come back for a drink? I’ll let him know.”

My room is beautiful and clean, with colorful artistic touches and a copper sink in the bathroom. I take a quick shower and change to a kaftan, then go down to the bar and order a glass of wine from the receptionist, who seems to work all aspects of the inn.

As I sit at a rustic table outside, light filters through the lattice covered with fragrant jasmine. I close my eyes and listen to the waves crashing on the beach below.

“Hello, Madame, Elisabete said you wanted to talk with me? She says you’re a chef?”

I turn and smile at the gentleman and nearly faint when I see that lithe physique, the thin mustache on the upper lip, that unmistakable style. “Oh my God in heaven! Chef Orlando!”

It takes him a moment. “Eva? Is it you? Did you come here to find me?”

I jump up and we hug and laugh and look at each other. “No, Chef, it’s pure luck. An angel must be guiding me.”

He sits across from me and Elisabete brings him a glass of wine. “How long have you been back in Brazil? Where are you living?”

“I’ve been back for a couple of months. I’m opening a restaurant in João Pessoa, hopefully in March. When did you leave the generals’ quarters?”

“Two years ago. My partner and I opened this inn last year.”

“Chef, I remember you always loved Búzios. I’m only sorry I can’t stay to enjoy your restaurant.”

“I’ll do better than that, querida. You must join us for dinner in the private residence. I’ll even let you help with prep.” We laugh and finish our glasses.

An hour later Orlando opens the door to the penthouse. “Come in, querida. Eva, this is Nelson.”

The man is tall and movie-star handsome, with a neatly trimmed silver beard. He extends his hand. “Welcome.”

When I hear his voice a key fits in the lock of my memory and I realize with a shock it’s the major who was the administrative manager of the generals’ quarters. “Major?”

There’s a brief silence and then they both laugh. “Yes, it’s me.” Nelson smiles and gestures over to some bar stools at the kitchen counter.

Orlando hands me a chopping board and a knife, and I wash my hands at the sink. Orlando and Nelson are like an old married couple, loving and comfortable. We catch up on news about the generals’ quarters and people we knew in common, and I bubble over telling them about the plans for Jaxi. Orlando bustles around the kitchen and I do prep as he hands things to me.

After a delicious dinner we sit on their veranda with glasses of port; candles burn in hurricane lanterns with the peaceful rhythm of the waves in the background.

Nelson breaks the silence. “Eva, we need to tell you some other things. I always wondered if we’d see you again, because there is something I want you to know.”

This sounds very serious. “Yes, Nelson. Please go on.”

“Orlando and I have been together for many years, but we had to hide our love. After the coup d’état in 1964 I became increasingly upset with the extrajudicial abuses of military leadership. One day I saw your husband’s name come up on a list of people to be targeted. I tracked what happened and surreptitiously arranged his release from the torture house in Rio. And we sent someone to tell you.”

I am stunned but this makes perfect sense. “Oh my God. I remember Luiz thought someone in the military had warned us, something the guy in the alley said about ‘operating procedure.’”

He smiles grimly. “There wasn’t much we could do in those days. And when your husband continued with the resistance, I knew there would be no second chance. That was when we gave you the next warning. I’m so sorry, Eva. I wish I could have done more.” His voice breaks.

I feel a sense of calm. “Nelson, God put you and Orlando in my life. The only thing I feel is gratitude. Luiz made a detailed record of his kidnapping and torture and I sent it to the Brazil Never Again commission. He will be listed as one of the disappeared in their final report.”

Orlando looks over at Nelson and I feel the love between them. “When they passed the amnesty law in 1979, Nelson and I decided we would retire and come here to Búzios, where people are artistic and open-minded. For the first time in our life together we can stop looking behind us and worrying about being discovered. And I think Brazil is getting better, I think there will be elections soon. The dictators are losing their hold on power.”

We sit quietly together for some time. I feel the pieces of the puzzle of my life falling into place. “Orlando, Nelson, thank you so much. For everything. I will call you when I know a definite opening date, and I hope you can be there.”

Orlando laughs and hugs me. “Querida, you know we will! And let us know in plenty of time even if the date isn’t certain, because I want to tell all our friends. I know Jaxi is going to be fabulous.”

Nelson pulls me toward him for an embrace and we’re both in tears. We don’t say anything more, just nod and look at each other.