Every morning, Olga stopped at Doña Rosa’s front porch to visit her baby parrot. Perched on a small stand, it shuddered and cooed as she approached, offering Olga a welcome escape. She joked that the parrot could say her name but not Morgan’s.
One morning, after checking on the camp, she found her pet wasn’t on its perch. Frantic, Olga ran to every corner of the camp, looking to see if the green bird had flown somewhere else.
“Did you see my parrot?” she asked the rebels.
Soon the entire camp was looking for the bird. The young rebels searched the trees around the camp. They looked inside the hammocks. They searched the trails just beyond the camp grounds. Then they found a tiny, furry ball on the ground. It was Olga’s parrot—dead.
With tears in her eyes, Olga walked away. She wasn’t supposed to leave the camp, but no one was going to stop her. Staring straight ahead, she passed the bohíos and the rows of coffee plants beyond the camp’s boundaries. She disappeared on a trail into the dense brush.
She never should have grown so attached to the little bird. She never should have allowed it to become part of her life. She had taught it to talk. She taught it to perch on her shoulder. She held the little creature close and felt its soft green feathers against her cheek.
Olga had lost her home. She had lost contact with her family. The one little thing that gave her joy in life was gone. Like everything else in this war, it had died. Deeper into the woods she went. Her legs grew heavy. It felt like she hadn’t slept in days. She reached the side of a creek, but now she had no idea where she was. Light streamed through the leaves, but nothing looked familiar. She had never veered this far from safety. She might be able to follow the creek bed, but the light beyond the trees was fading. Even if she knew her way back, it would take hours to return to camp.
She was so tired.
She found a clump of thick bushes alongside the running water, lay on her side, and closed her eyes.
Morgan rushed through the camp, yelling for Olga. He had checked Doña Rosa’s house, looked in her hammock, and began rousting the others.
“Where’s Olga?” he asked, raising his voice. No one knew.
He ran to the edge of camp and stared across the plantation, but saw no sign of her. He yelled for his men. They had to find her. They strapped on their guns and made for the main trail that led from the camp. Except for the plantation, dense forest covered most of the area. She could have taken only a few well-worn paths. But the longer she was away, the more dangerous it became. Batista’s men had been sending scouting units into the area, trying to pinpoint the rebel positions. If they ran into Olga, they’d kill her.
Morgan motioned for his men to hurry, but even they knew finding Olga was going to be difficult.
“Olga!” Morgan yelled.
But there was no response.
He never should have let her out of his sight. He knew she was upset over the parrot, but he had no idea how bad she felt—not to the point where she would risk her life. He stared into the trees and kept moving along the path, oblivious to anything else but finding her.
As he neared a thicket near a brook, he spotted something near a clump of bushes in the distance. It was Olga. She was breathing, her eyes closed.
He gently shook her shoulder as he whispered her name. Startled, Olga sat up and looked up at the man standing over her. He didn’t care that the other rebels were present. He bent down, took her into his arms, and kissed her. Both put their arms around each other and embraced.
Morgan saw something in her that he had never seen before. He had been with many women in his life, but no one had sacrificed so much. She had given up her life for a deeper cause and risked it all. Morgan would never let this happen again. From now on, it would be different.
For Olga, it was all happening so fast. She had already lost people close to her. People she loved. The last person she wanted to lose now was Morgan.
Both knew at this moment their lives were about to change. Neither one could afford to hold back their feelings, not anymore.