One Man's War (18 page)

“How's Gib?”

“Stabilized, thank God. His surgeon says he's going to make it.”

“That's the best news yet,” Pete declared, and gave her a gentle hug. “Dany's gone and you're still here.” Pete looked down at Tess. “The crisis is past, honey. Let me take you over to the Caravelle.”

“But, Gib—”

“I'll stand the watch here at the hospital with him, Tess. You need a hot shower, sleep and food, in that order.”

Never had it felt so good to be held. Tess nodded. “I know.... It's just that Gib shouldn't be left alone at a time like this.”

“Does he know he lost his foot?”

“Y-yes.”

“How's he taking that news?”

Tess sat up and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “As well as he can. Right now Gib's on a lot of painkillers and he's floating in and out.”

“I understand.” Pete stood up, bringing Tess to her feet again. “Come on, let's get you out of here for a while.”

Wearily, Tess picked up her small white leather purse from the lounge coffee table. “I'm so tired, I'm rummy.”

Keeping a grip on her waist, Pete led her out of the lounge. “I know that. Let's go.”

* * *

Tess woke slowly, sunlight streaming in through the double balcony doors. The beige drapes had been pulled aside. What time was it? She lifted her wrist and stared at her watch. It was three in the afternoon! Sitting up, her cotton nightgown wrinkled around her, Tess groaned. Gib! How was Gib?

As she turned and reached for the phone on the nightstand, she saw a note:

Dear Sleeping Beauty:

Your brother is doing fine. He was rallying strongly when I left at 0800 this morning. The doc says to tell you to stay here at the hotel, that Gib's been given sleeping medication and won't wake up until later this evening. Her prescription for you is plenty of food and rest. I've got a room on the next floor—301. When you feel up to it, give me a ring and wake me up. Pete

Tess called the hospital first and talked to the nurses' station. Gib was sleeping soundly, they reported, getting better by the hour. Relieved, she called Pete.

“...Yeah...”

“Pete? It's Tess.”

“Tess? Everything okay? Is something wrong?”

She smiled and cradled the phone. “No, everything's fine.” His voice was sleep-filled. “I just woke up, and I'm going to take a shower.”

“Sounds great. Can I join you?”

She smiled softly. A huge part of her wanted to say yes. “You never give up, do you?”

He chuckled. “No. Hungry?”

Tess was hungry for Pete. “I'm starving.”

“For the same thing I am?”

It was her turn to laugh.

“You sound so beautiful when you laugh. You know, you hardly ever laugh. But then, Vietnam isn't a very funny place, is it? How about I meet you down at the restaurant in half an hour?”

“I'd like that,” Tess whispered, a catch in her voice.

* * *

Pete waited restlessly at the table in the restaurant. When Tess appeared, the change in her was telling. The shadows were gone from under her eyes; her hair, damp from her recent shower, was caught up into a single braid down the back of her clean pink blouse. The khaki slacks and sandals she wore gave her the look of a young American woman, not someone stuck in Vietnam. The picture she presented reminded Pete of home, of a saner place, of normalcy. And right now, he desperately needed those reminders.

Standing as Tess approached, Pete pulled out a chair for her. As he seated her, he inhaled her scent, a spicy fragrance. He sat down opposite her, and the waiter came over and took their order for hot coffee. When the waiter had left, Pete captured Tess's hand.

“You look a hundred percent better.”

“I feel all of that,” Tess admitted, her heart starting a slow, jagged pounding. Pete was dressed in a clean flight suit. “Why aren't you in civilian clothes?”

“Because I'm here on orders from our command.” Pete grimaced. “I've got to fly back tonight to Marble Mountain, Tess. I don't want to, but twenty-four hours was all I could wrangle out of the colonel.”

Warmth flooded Tess. She squeezed his fingers. “I was so surprised to see you.”

“I hope you were glad.”

She smiled. “I was.”

Pete frowned and cradled her hand in his, looking at the puckered pink scratches garnered from the VC attack. “Do you feel like telling me what happened at Dany's place? What went wrong?”

For the next fifteen minutes, over a fortifying cup of hot coffee, Tess told him everything. By the time she was done, she had broken out in a cold sweat.

“Look at me! I'm shaking and I'm freezing, Pete. What is it? What's wrong with me?”

His heart wrenched with pain. Tess's pain. “Honey, that's called a combat reaction. It's adrenaline.”

“Just from talking about it?” she whispered in confusion, wiping her sweaty, cool hands on the linen napkin.

“I'm afraid so.” He leaned forward and gripped Tess's hands. “Listen to me for once, will you? You've got that ten-thousand-yard stare, Tess. It's combat stress. You've got to get away from this place and go home. Do you understand me?” Never had he wanted Tess to listen to him more than now.

Tiredness swept through Tess as she studied his tortured eyes. “Pete...I can't. I have another ten months on my contract.”

“Then break the damned thing!”

His anger slammed against her, and she knew she couldn't take any more emotion from anyone. “Please,” Tess begged, “I don't want to get into an argument with you, Pete.”

His hands closed protectively around hers. “I care about you, Tess. I'm worried about you. You've had it here in Nam. You need to get out, get Stateside. Why don't you fly back with Gib? The doc said they'd fly him out of here shortly. Go with him. He needs you now more than ever.”

Tears stung Tess's eyes. She pulled out of Pete's grip. “Don't do this to me!” she cried softly.

“Do what? Help you?” he demanded hotly. Pete lowered his voice, realizing other dining-room patrons were watching them. “Dammit, Vietnam has you by the jugular and you don't even know it, Tess! Well, I do. I'm a hell of a lot more objective about this stinking place than you are right now. Go home with Gib. Help him. Help yourself.”

Blinded by tears, Tess stood up, pushing her chair back. “It's not that easy, Pete! There are no simple answers. I'm under contract and I
want
to stay. I love these people. They're human beings just like us! And they deserve all the help we can give them, because we're the ones coming into their country and screwing it up!” She backed away from the table. “You'd better go. Thanks for coming, but I don't need this lecture. Not now.”

“But—” Pete rose, his hand extended toward her.

Tess gave a little cry, whirled and ran from the dining room.

Pete stood helplessly, anger combined with frustration deluging him. What could he do? He loved Tess, dammit, and she was being bullheaded as hell about the situation. Couldn't she see she was burned out? Gib could genuinely use her help, but she was entrenching. Pain jogging through him, Pete made a decision. Whether Tess loved him or not, he would get her out of Vietnam. His stomach growled, but he'd lost his appetite. Just what the hell was he going to do when Tess got back from Saigon? Had he just destroyed their relationship?

Grimly Pete placed his hands around the cup of coffee. No answers were forthcoming. Tess had once accused him of running every time the chips were down—and rightly so. But this time he wasn't going to. Because he loved her.

Did Tess love him? Pete wasn't at all sure. And moreover, it didn't matter—because he loved her enough to get her out of this stinking place before it killed her.

“W
ell, looks like you're leaving Nam, Tess.”

Tess looked up from where she was sitting on her cot in Da Nang. The day was at an end and she'd just gotten back to base. It had been three weeks since Gib had been flown Stateside, and her life finally was returning to a more comforting pattern of normalcy—except that she hadn't seen Pete since their fight. The man standing before her now, Bob Pond, her Saigon supervisor, smiled and handed her a set of crisp, recently typed orders.

“What? Bob! What are you doing here?” Tess put aside her work—the quarterly report she prepared for Bob on Le My. His appearance was totally unexpected.

Still smiling, Bob, a fiftyish man in khaki coveralls, sauntered into her small tent. “Thought I'd drop by and see you personally about this, Tess. Sorry there was no warning, but you know how it is over here.” He handed her a set of neatly folded papers. “Hope you like the idea of going back to the States. We need you there for the next nine months of your second-contract tour. Looks like you're getting a promotion to a desk and lots of paperwork back in D.C. Congratulations.”

Shocked speechless, Tess looked up at him for a long moment, then hesitantly reached out for the orders. “The States?” she managed to croak. This was impossible! Pulling the folding metal chair away from the small desk near her cot, Bob sat down. “I wanted to give these orders to you personally, in case you had questions.”

Despair flooded Tess as she rapidly read the papers he'd handed her. The orders were real. “B-but,” she stammered, “I don't want to leave! I mean, I've been here—”

“Tess,” Bob interrupted gently, “orders are orders.”

“Who cut these? You?” She looked more closely at the orders, trying to ferret out the responsible party.

“No, these came direct from Washington. Someone must have read your reports, recognized your good work here in Vietnam and decided that your talents and skills would be of even better use back home. I understand Phil Adams, your new supervisor, has some great plans in store. It's quite a challenging assignment he's given you. I'm jealous.”

Her heart pounding, Tess tore through the entire set of orders. Sure enough, they had come from the States. “But,” she began lamely, “I don't understand. My work's been good here, and the villages are coming along....”

Bob scratched his balding head and sat back in the chair. “No complaints from me. I hate to lose you, Tess.” He shrugged unhappily. “I'm sorry if you aren't glad about this transfer.”

She stood suddenly. “Can't you make a call? Get them changed?”

Bob shook his head sadly. “Your replacement's already arrived, Tess. He flew into Saigon on a C-130 two days ago carrying these orders with him.”

Tess stood. Her heart felt as if it were breaking. “No...” she cried softly. “No!” Blindly, she dove past Bob and out of the tent. Since the attack on Dany Villard's plantation, Tess had watched her life turn into a quagmire of unhappiness. The worst had been the fight with Pete in Saigon. Then the VC had stepped up their activity in the area, making it impossible for her to remain at night in any of her three villages. The marines' twenty-man occupation teams had already provoked several firefights, and a number of Vietnamese civilians had died in the crossfire.

Her hands shaking badly, Tess read the orders again, more slowly. Who had done this to her? She didn't want to go back to the States! Tears blurred her vision and she angrily dashed them away. The past three weeks had been a living hell of worrying about Gib, helping Dany Villard and sleeping poorly at night, her dreams haunted by Pete. The memory of their relationship was like an open, festering sore. She hadn't had the courage to face Pete and talk it out with him. She wasn't sure she was ready for the consequences. Mostly she feared that Pete would run again—permanently, this time. Or that, like Eric, he'd leave her without reason.

Bob came up and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Tess, there's a C-130 scheduled out of here two days from now. I've got you listed as one of the passengers. Pack your belongings. You're going home.”

More tears came, but Tess forced them back. She clenched her fist, the orders crinkling in her fingers. “Okay,” she replied hoarsely, “I'll be on it.”

“You've done a hell of a job out here for us, Tess, and I'm writing you a glowing recommendation.” He patted her shoulder. “Any door you want opened will be open after they read it. Who knows? When your contract's up with us, you may decide to quit being an AID advisor and hire your services out to the highest bidder. There certainly won't be any lack of takers. Your background, reputation and skills make a terrific résumé.”

Still traumatized by the shock of the orders, Tess stood there unable to say anything. Bob murmured goodbye and moved past her, disappearing down the long row of tents. How long Tess stood there she didn't know. She was awash in an overload of grief, anger and sorrow. Finally, she forced herself to move. She had to be alone to think, to feel.

* * *

Pete saw Tess head for the Da Nang beach. He stayed out of her sight, waiting until Bob Pond joined him.

“You delivered the orders?” Pete demanded.

Bob frowned. “I did, Captain.” He gave Pete a sharp look. “I don't know who you are, but it's obvious you've got connections in high places.”

“I don't like cashing chips owed me,” Pete said grimly, watching as Tess moved away from them, “but this is one time I'm glad I had them to play.”

“You're right,” Bob said heavily. “Tess is in need of some rest. She was very upset and on the verge of tears. That's not like her.”

Pete held on to his anger. If Bob had been a more alert supervisor, he'd have gotten her out of the field well before this. “The States are safe,” Pete ground out. “That's all I care about.”

“Well, it's done. Tess said she'll be on that C-130 forty-eight hours from now. I'll see you around, Captain.”

“Yeah...thanks.”

As Bob disappeared around the corner of the tent, Pete remained. He tried to justify what he'd done. In his heart, he knew it was the right thing to do. But if Tess ever found out that he'd convinced a government official who owed him a favor to get her contract changed from Vietnam to Stateside, she would never forgive him. Still, what else could he have done? She had battle fatigue, and no one seemed to recognize it except him. He was going to haul her out of here to protect her from herself.