A/N: It has been brought to my attention that the beginning of my story is very similar to another story found on this site. I have not read all the stories in this category, so I'm not sure which story the reviewer is referring to, but it was certainly not my intention to "rip off" another person's story. I have made some changes to the first chapter in an attempt to correct the problem, although I'd like to avoid changing my story completely. I'd like to reiterate that I'm not sure of which story the reviewer was referring to, because I have not read them all. If you feel that it is your story that I have "ripped off", please let me know as it was not my intention.

Chapter 1: Questions

1962:

Katey Miller sat in front of the projector in her small apartment in Miami, lost in memories. A single tear slipped down her ivory cheek as she watched a much younger version of herself dance with a young Cuban boy back in 1958, the year her father's job led them all to Cuba. At the age of 18, Katey had just begun her senior year of high school and was none too happy to learn that she was to be uprooted. However, nothing could have prepared her for what she was to find there. Javier. The name entered her thoughts unbidden. She spent less than a year in Cuba before her family was forced out when Fidel Castro took power. In that short amount of time, however, Katey fell in love. She fell in love with dancing, and she fell in love with Javier. She was forced to leave Javier behind, but she could not abandon her other love- dancing. After four long years studying at the University of Miami, Katey was finally going to make at least one of her dreams come true. She was going to teach dance. And not just any dance either, Afro-Cuban and Latin Ballroom was what she specialized in during her studies, because no matter how hard she tried, she just could not leave Cuba behind. Could not leave Javier behind is more like it, came another unbidden thought. It was for that reason that she decided to make Miami, Florida her home. The Cuban population was flourishing here in Miami, so much so that at times Katey felt like she was still in Cuba. It made her feel closer to Javier.

"Mama?" Katey was torn out of her thoughts when she heard the small voice call out to her. She turned around to find her three year old daughter, Maria, standing in the doorway rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Eyes so much like her father's. She couldn't help but smile upon seeing her. Though she didn't have Javier with her, she had his daughter. Their daughter.

"What are doing up, mija? It's ten o'clock. It's past your bedtime."

"My daughter"

"What?"

"Mija, that's what you said right? Doesn't it mean my daughter?" Katey smiled as she nodded her head. When she learned that she was pregnant with Javier's baby, she made sure to learn Spanish. She knew there was no way that Maria could know her father, but she wanted her to know her father's culture at least. So Katey learned Spanish so that she could teach her daughter.

"Yes Maria, that's very good. Muy excelente. Now shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I had a bad dream and I got scared. What is that you're watching?" Katey sighed as she motioned for Maria to come sit down beside her. She knew eventually she would ask questions and Katey would have to explain to her about her father. She waited until she settled down beside her and then she told her what happened in Cuba all those years ago and who her father was.

"You see those people on the screen, sweetie? That's me and your father at a dance competition."

"That's my daddy? When will I get to meet him? And how come we don't live with him?"

"Well, you see Maria, a lot of things have happened in Cuba since then. Americans are not very popular down there right now. They don't like us very much, and that's why your grandparents and I had to leave in the first place."

"Oh, but if we can't go to daddy, then daddy will come to us, right?" Katey didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that Javier doesn't even know she exists, so she nodded, although she knew the chances of him coming to America were slim. He loves Cuba too much.

"It's possible, mija. It's possible."