One Man's War (6 page)

“This is wonderful! Oh, look! Typhoid, diphtheria and whooping cough vaccine! The babies won't die from any of those, now.” She held up a huge amber bottle. “And malaria tablets!”

A hot, powerful feeling moved through Pete as Tess made a big deal over the supplies. Something good and clean flowed through him, erasing much of the ugliness that roiled within him. Her joy was genuine, the look in her lovely green eyes telling him everything. It struck Pete that Tess simply didn't play the games other women played back in the States. There was a straightforward simpleness about her, that soft Texas drawl of hers touching him like a heated fever, changing him in ways he'd never be able to logically categorize. But his body was responding of its own accord, and the ache building in him was more than just physical. He ached to capture and tame that smiling mouth of hers, to absorb the beauty and happiness he saw in her eyes. In that moment, Pete felt like a man bound for hell getting his first and only look at what heaven might have been like.

“This is incredible, Pete. Wonderful!” Tess turned and threw her arms impulsively around his broad, powerful shoulders and gave him a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice off-key. “Thank you for your gifts.”

The shocking touch of her body against his own made him dizzy. Automatically, Pete reached out to place his arms around Tess, but she was gone as quickly as she had embraced him. Her cheeks were flushed, the freckles across her cheeks darker, making her look even more desirable, if that were possible. Her red hair, straight by nature, was slightly curled and damp against her temples. Pete longed to touch her hair, just a strand of it, to see what it felt like. Would it be strong yet soft, like Tess?

His mouth went dry, and his heart picked up in beat as he met, held and drowned in her gaze, now awash with tears. Tears?

“Now,” he muttered gruffly, “don't cry! I can't stand it when a woman cries. It bothers the hell out of me.”

Tess blinked them away and managed a sliver of a laugh. “They're tears of happiness, Pete. Don't tell me you don't know what that feeling is, either.”

Bashfully, he shrugged and turned away. If he kept staring down into Tess's upturned face, he'd do something they'd both be sorry for later. The blinding urge to kiss her, to take her bodily and bury himself in her loving depths, nearly unstrung all his carefully made plans to woo Tess into his bed. Fighting to get a hold on his unraveling feelings, he felt Tess's hand grip his arm.

“Pete?”

“I'm okay.”

She smiled up at him. “And you keep saying you're such a bastard.” A flood of incredible light and heat swept through Tess. “You foster such a bad-boy image, yet you turn around and do this. Pete, something's not making sense here.”

“It's just a way of getting your attention, is all,” he muttered defensively, aware of her firm grip on his arm. Her touch was galvanizing, hot coals against his flesh. “Don't read anything more into it than that.”

“When a man courts a woman, he usually brings chocolates and flowers,” Tess teased and glanced at the box, “not medical supplies.” If she didn't let go, Tess knew she'd want to keep touching him—to raise a hand to his implacable features, smoothing and softening them once again by taking away the tension that hung around his mouth and eyes. How easily touched he was. That was a happy discovery. He wasn't half as bad as he tried to make people think. Releasing his arm, Tess whispered, “Well, whatever your intentions, you'll be saving lives with these medical items whether you know it or not.”

“And for that, you'll have dinner with me tonight at the O club?” he pressed, taking advantage of her lowered guard. Never had he wanted anything more.

With a laugh, Tess shook her head. “I can't go tonight. One of the women is in labor, and I promised her I'd stay with her. It's her first baby, and I want to be here for moral support as well as for medical purposes.” Tess touched the box. “Now, with the Mercurochrome, I can disinfect the baby's navel. Do you know how many infants get infection right after they're born because of lack of iodine?”

Pete shook his head. But he saw the seriousness in Tess's vulnerable eyes. “There's more,” he said abruptly, hurt that she wouldn't go with him to the O club.

“More? Of what?”

“Supplies. Come on, they're in the jeep. They're too bulky to carry all at once.” He turned on his heel, trying to salvage his hurt pride. A part of him understood Tess's reason for staying at Le My. There was a mother having a baby—and he was sure the baby was wanted and wouldn't be given away to some stranger as he'd been. He saw something commendable in Tess's decision to stay, but the selfish part of him wanted her regardless of the situation, and that was the part he wrestled with as he walked back to the jeep.

Tess quickly caught up with Pete. “I can't believe this! What other things did you bring?”

“Oh, just odds and ends I found.”

At the jeep, Tess halted, her mouth dropping open. There were ten half sheets of plywood in the back of the vehicle. In another cardboard box were six colorful comforters, in quiltlike patterns. The third box contained six marine-issue green Snoopy blankets, in camouflage jungle green-and-brown, a blend of nylon quilted with an inner layer of polyester down. Tess was speechless.

Pete felt an incredible tidal wave of pleasure sweep through him as he saw the effects his gifts had on Tess. She was like a child at Christmas. He patted the plywood.

“After looking at your hut, which is more like a sieve than a house, I figured plywood walls would be best.” He pointed to the box of comforters. “And all you had to lie on are those lousy grass mats. You're sleeping on a dirt floor, for all intents and purposes. At least now you'll be able to have some padding under you and a blanket to throw on top of you when it gets chilly in the early morning hours.”

Pete's thoughtfulness overwhelmed Tess, and she fought back tears of gratitude. Some of the harshness had left his features, and she saw a little boy standing in front of her, wanting so badly to please his mother, wanting so badly to be held and loved for what he'd gotten her. All of these realizations cascaded through Tess: how much Pete needed to be held and loved, to be told
he
was worthwhile and needed. The only way he knew to get approval was to buy someone with gifts.

Sadness moved through Tess as she gently touched the comforters and then the blankets. “You are,” she whispered unsteadily, on the verge of tears, “an angel of mercy, Pete Mallory.” And without thinking, she put her arms around his neck, drew him close and simply held him. She buried her head next to his jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered.

A shattering sensation broke around Pete's heart as Tess went slowly into his arms. This time she didn't move away. This time, her loving body filled with a strength he craved, she remained within his tightening embrace. Closing his eyes, Pete savored her length against him, as if she were a prayer that had finally been answered. A ragged sigh tore from him and his nostrils flared to take in her very feminine scent. It was a perfume far more dizzying and beautiful than the orchids that clung to the trees in the jungles.

Just her simple act, an act of innocence, made him savor Tess as he had no other woman. Pete felt the rapid beat of her heart against his chest wall, the firmness of her small breasts. He was wildly aware of the shallow rise and fall of her breathing, and even more aware of how Tess fit beautifully—perfectly—against his tall frame.

Tess slowly extricated herself from Pete's tight embrace. Shocked by her own impulsive gesture, she touched her flaming cheek as she looked shyly up into his hooded eyes, smoldering with raw need of her. “I—I'm sorry...I don't know what happened....”

“I'm not sorry at all,” Pete rasped, his voice roughened with desire. Tess looked incredibly vulnerable right now, wide open for any attack he might make on her. But something stopped him from taking advantage of her—for now. She was shaken. So was he.

The moment was broken when the shortwave radio in the jeep began to squawk. Cursing the bad timing, Pete picked it up and called in.

Tess stepped away and crossed her arms, as if to hold herself together after the unexpected embrace. Disappointment washed through her: Pete was needed immediately back at base to fly an urgent mission.

Apologetically, Pete put the radio on the seat of the jeep. He began to transfer the goods from the vehicle and Tess pitched in to help him. “Sorry I can't stay, Tess.”

“I am, too,” she admitted. They placed the sheets of plywood against the trunk of a rubber tree. In moments, the jeep was unloaded. Tess wiped her dusty hands against the thighs of her uniform. “Will it be dangerous, this mission?”

Pete shrugged, not wanting to leave. The need to capture Tess's provocative mouth was real, overriding. “I don't know.”

“Well,” she cast about, “Gib said you guys fly one mission a day. This would be your second one.”

Forcing himself to climb into the jeep, Pete started up the cantankerous vehicle. “Don't worry about me, honey. I'm too damn mean to die. Didn't you know? Only the good die young. I'm going to be around until I'm a dirty old man of ninety.”

She laughed and stepped away from the jeep. “You're such a hard case, Mallory. When will I see you again?”

Pete grinned belatedly. “When do you want to see me?”

“As soon as possible. I could use another set of strong, capable hands to turn that plywood into a small room we could use as a school.”

With a groan, Pete complained, “So you only want me for my body.”

It was her turn to smile. “Isn't that what you only want from me? What an interesting turn of the tables....”

In that instant, Pete liked Tess more than ever. She had spunk and wit, not to mention an unquenchable spirit. He laughed. “All's fair in love and war, and honey, we're in a war. I'll drop by and loan you myself as soon as possible. Okay?”

Sobering, Tess said, “Be careful, Pete.”

“I always am.”

“No, I mean, be really careful.”

“For you, I will be, honey. See you later.”

Tess watched the jeep disappear, leaving a cloud of reddish dust in its wake. So much was happening to her when it came to Pete. He was incredibly complex—one moment the jokester; the next, hauntingly human and emotionally fragile. Turning around, Tess looked at all the equipment he'd brought. A number of children had come up to eagerly sift through the contents and finger the soft, clean material. Their faces were filled with awe over the array of rainbow colors. With a shake of her head, Tess moved toward the expectant and excited children.

“You're something else, mister. Something else,” she muttered, hoping against hope that she would see Pete much sooner rather than later.

“Y
ou're turning into a bear,” Gib Ramsey noted of Pete as they slowly walked off the tarmac toward the line shack to finish off their flight reports. The afternoon sun beat down thickly upon them. Pete's flight suit clung damply to his body.

“Yeah, well, this damn Tinkertoy war is getting to me,” he griped. “Since I last saw your sister two weeks ago, we've been flying three to four missions a day. I haven't had
any
time off to go visit her.” Pete ignored the constant movement of trucks and men, and jets taking off in the distance. Fatigue lapped at him, but despite it, his thought and, incredibly, his heart, centered on Tess. “And she never stays at Da Nang at night. What's with her, anyway?” If Tess would come back to the base at night, Pete would have ample opportunity to see her, to chase her. It would be easy to take a jeep from Marble Mountain and drive over to the main marine facility a few miles away.

With a laugh, Gib slowed his walk as they approached the line shack. “Now you know how I feel. I wish she'd stay here at night, too—for different reasons.” Gib gave Pete a significant look laced with amusement. “But Tess is committed to her villages and the people in them.”

“She's a one-woman show out in the bush,” Pete muttered, opening the creaking screen door to the stuffy line shack. A number of other pilots were already at the counter filling out discrepancy logs for the crew chiefs. Pete and Gib went to the small refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of soda pop.

“I get concerned about her,” Gib admitted.

“She could walk on a damned land mine out in a rice paddy at any time,” Pete said. “Or get shot at by these VC snipers that are cropping up more and more every day.”

“Or get kidnapped by the VC.”

Scratching his damp hair, Pete pursed his lips. “She's trying to do too much. Last time I was there, she was playing doctor. Isn't being an agricultural advisor enough?”

Gib shook his head. “No argument from me, but Tess has a great love of these people. I worry about her. This place has really drained her emotionally. I wish she hadn't signed up for a second tour. She needs a rest....”

Sourly, Pete looked around. “Well, if you ask me, these gooks aren't worth that kind of attention. They live in the Stone Age, they're backward.... They don't even have plumbing in their homes, or a commode!”

Frowning, Gib said, “Look, Pete, I know you don't like the Vietnamese but don't call them gooks. At least, not in front of me.”

Warned, Pete sank into silence. He reminded himself that Ramsey was exactly like his sister: a sucker for the underdogs of the world. After they'd finished debriefing and were walking back to the headquarters tent, Pete decided to test Gib.

“Hey, let me have permission to drive over to Le My. I want to see if Tess has got those pieces of plywood up.”

Ramsey shrugged. “Go ahead. Ask Tess if she'll consider coming in tonight. Tell her I'd like to see her and catch up on what she's been doing out there.”