PROLOGUE
Los Angeles (Autumn 1972)
Elizabeth returned from Santiago, Chile in South America.
She deplaned at the Los Angeles International Airport.
Elizabeth, standing alone in the airport terminal with her infant son, wondered how they would get home. All around them people were rushing to meet arriving flights, happily reuniting with families and friends. Elizabeth and John had no money, no luggage and no one to meet them. They only had the clothes they were wearing and a few essentials packed in her Louis Vuitton bag. These belongings were all she could manage to get past the Policia Militar who searched every passenger that boarded the Braniff Boeing 707aircraft.
Their flight was the last to be authorized for departure from Santiago, Chile before General Augusto Pinocrandehet closed all air space and borders of his nation to the outside world.
Elizabeth, now having just arrived in the United States, considered her options, as she carried her son and moved towards the airport exit.
Prominently displayed in bold print on a news kiosk, she saw a Los Angeles Times newspaper headline:
‘Chile in Grip of Political Unrest!’
Now, she thought, that’s a profound understatement!
Scanning several other newspapers with similar headlines, she realized that no one in the States really understood the tragedy unfolding in Chile at that very moment.
A sudden wave of despair washed over Elizabeth, as she looked out into the unusually cloudy day. The same gray overcast enveloped her heart, but was slowly replaced by a quiet calmness as she took comfort in the knowledge that she and her son were finally safe!
It was chilly for a late California summer day, yet a slight smile brightened her face. Allowing the light ocean breeze to embrace her, she welcomed the fresh air. Slowly, Elizabeth walked towards a nearby bench and sat down. For a brief moment, she felt caught between two cultures, belonging to both–yet to neither.
Tears of sorrow were mixed with tears of relief, as she anticipated a fresh future with new hope. Elizabeth thought how the last twenty hours seemed surreal.
John and I have actually escaped Communism . . .
Since the Chilean government had blocked all international communications, Elizabeth was unable to notify her family that she was coming home. Caressing her son’s cheek, she began to cry…