One Man's War (7 page)

The gloom that had surrounded Pete immediately dissolved. With a grin, he said, “Yes, sir, Major.” Rubbing his hands together, Pete could hardly wait to see how his gifts had made Tess's life easier. How would she respond to him? Would she be glad to see him?

On the way over in the jeep, Pete frowned at himself. Since when had he ever felt
this
good about seeing a woman? His heart felt expanded, and happiness kept throbbing through him, catching him off guard. Trying to tell himself it was the “chase” that had him so pumped up, Pete ignored the other possibilities. All he wanted—no, needed—was to see Tess again. What a lucky bastard he was.

* * *

Pete went straight to Tess's hut at the far end of the village. The children, half-naked, skinny, their eyes dancing with joy, ran all around him. Ordinarily, Pete hated the kids following him, but something was changing inside him, and he permitted them to hang around him.

“You're a bunch of little ragamuffins,” he told them.

They looked up at him with wide smiles on their faces.

“Poor rug-rats,” he added.

More smiles.

With a grimace, Pete dug into the pocket of his flight suit and threw out five packs of gum and some chocolate bars. As the gifts hit the red dirt, the children scampered after the treasure.

By the time he got to Tess's hut, Pete was alone. Behind him, he heard the screeches, laughter and shouts of the children vying for the cherished gum and candy. He tried to ignore the good feeling his lousy little present to the kids had created.

“Tess? It's Pete....” He pulled the orange curtain aside. A frown gathered. She wasn't home, but then neither were any of the gifts he'd given her. The same old worn rice mats were on the floor, and the sides of the hut were just as breezy as before. What had she done with the supplies?

Turning, Pete spotted Tess coming into the village, her black cotton pants rolled above her knees, her legs and bare feet glistening with water. She'd just come out of a rice paddy, no doubt. Even in that god-awful bamboo hat she insisted on wearing and her baggy Vietnamese clothes, she looked lovely in his eyes. Her red hair was caught up in a ponytail. He watched with studied intensity to see what kind of expression she'd have on her face when she realized he'd come to see her.

“Pete!” Tess's heart leaped wildly, and she automatically raised her hand. He stood uncertainly by the opening of her hut, a frown on his handsome features. With a laugh, she moved into a loping trot, covering the distance more quickly. As she drew near, Tess took off the bamboo hat and ruefully touched her hair, sure to need a brushing.

“Hi, there!” she greeted warmly, coming up to where he stood. Under one arm he had a package. “This is a wonderful surprise. When did you get here?”

Hungrily, Pete drank in Tess's open, glowing features. Momentarily, he lost his voice. How could she possibly have grown more lovely in these two long, miserable weeks? She had. All the sourness he felt washed away beneath her welcoming smile. He wanted nothing more in life than to taste those deliciously curved lips.

“Hi...just a few minutes ago.” He jabbed a thumb toward her hut. “Hey, where's all that plywood and stuff I brought to you? You were supposed to take them for yourself.”

With a laugh, Tess ducked into her hut. “I did. Come on in for a moment.”

Grudgingly, Pete followed her. Tess set her hat down on a rice mat and then knelt before a large, rusty tin bowl. She poured water in it from a chipped ceramic pitcher and sluiced the liquid over her face, neck and arms. She used the towel—if the cotton rag could be called that—to pat her skin dry.

“Actually,” Tess said, glancing up at him as she dried her cheek with the towel, “all of it has been used.”

“Not here,” he protested.

“Others needed it a lot worse than I did, Pete.”

Unhappily, he sat down cross-legged on one of the rice mats where he could watch her. Each of her movements was economical; there was no wasted motion about Tess. “What about you?”

“I get along fine with what I have here. Don't look so unhappy, Pete. The comforters were distributed to six mothers with babies. The Snoopy blankets went to several families who had nothing.”

“And the plywood?”

“Remember? I told you we'd use them to start building a school?”

Glumly, Pete nodded. He handed her the sack. “Here, this is for
you,
not these damned people.”

She quickly dried her hands and hung the towel up on a nail driven into one of the main beams of the hut. The paper sack was badly wrinkled and she smiled.

“What have you scrounged up now?” Tess came and sat down next to him, the sack resting on her crossed legs.

“Some little things,” Pete hedged, trying to pretend not to be too interested in her excitement.

“Jams! Jellies! And look at this: all kinds of makeup!” Tess looked over at him, once again struck by the expression on his features. She placed the six jars of preserves to one side. “These I can definitely use.”

“
You
use them. Don't you dare give them away.”

She grinned. “Now, Pete, if you give a gift to me, it's mine, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And I have the right to use it any way I see fit. Right?”

He didn't like the merriment in her dancing green eyes. “You're leading up to something.”

With a chuckle, Tess nodded. “I'll keep one jar, but I'll share the rest with the people.”

With a sigh, Pete shook his head. “What about the cosmetics? I even managed to get some Chanel perfume for you. And there's lipstick in there, not to mention makeup.”

Wryly, Tess held his gaze. “First of all, the water buffalo go crazy if I `smell' like an American. When I first came over here, I used to wear lipstick and a little dab of perfume. The first water buffalo I encountered tossed his horned head, snorted and charged me. Later, after I climbed down out of the nearest tree, the village chieftain told me they hated the odor. I also found out that the mosquitoes and other insects
loved
my perfume, and I ended up with more bites per square inch on my body than you could believe.” She smiled softly and touched the makeup. “To tell you the truth, Pete, I've never been one for much makeup. Remember? I was that string bean of a Texas girl who hid away in her dorm studying and making good grades instead of partying like the prettier, more popular girls?”

Disgruntled, Pete stared down at his clasped hands. Any of the Viet women at the O club would have been thrilled with these presents. “I thought all women used makeup.”

“Some do, Pete. I just never did.” Tess pointed to her copper freckles. “I kinda like the natural look.” She laughed gently. “Look at me! I don't think very many American women would approve of what I do or how I look. I can't say I blame them, but I'm happy.”

She was. Pete drowned in her rich verdant eyes, hotly aware of her ability to share her incredible warmth with him. The ache in his body heightened to a painful degree. How many times in the last two weeks had he dreamed of bedding down with Tess, taking her? Too many.

“Well,” he groused, rallying as he took the paper bag back into his hand, “I know some bar girls who will kill for this stuff.”

“Oh,” Tess hooted, getting to her feet, “and I imagine you'll extract a price from them for it, too.”

He grinned. “Everything in life has a price tag on it. Can I help it if I'm great at exchanging goods?” He stood. “Your brother would like you to come back with me. He needs to see you.”

Tess nodded and released her red hair, brushing it quickly. “I do owe Gib a visit. Time goes by so fast out here, Pete. There's so much to do.”

Pete reveled in the sight of Tess brushing her rich, red hair. Even in the half light of the thatched hut, he could see highlights in the strands. The ache to tunnel his fingers through that thick, shoulder-length mass seized him.

“Like what?” His voice had thickened.

Tess quickly rewrapped her hair with a rubber band, the ponytail back in place. She leaned down and filled her ever-present green knapsack with a few articles. “Well, I'm trying to get the local Vietnamese government to approve my application for a pump. The people in Le My have a lousy water source that carries raw sewage in it, and I've gotten them to dig a well. We hit water today, and now, if I could get my hands on some pipe and a pump, they'd use it.” She frowned and turned back toward him, the knapsack slung across her shoulder. “Of course, that means a generator to generate electricity, otherwise the pump wouldn't work. Sometimes it all seems so impossible. I don't want them drinking that filthy water. I can't get them to understand that it's causing disease among them.”

“What if you did have a generator and a pump?” Pete asked, walking at her side as they left her hut. The hot midafternoon sun poured through the village, with no trees to give shade.

“As soon as the novelty wore off, the villagers would use the generator.”

“Positive?”

Tess gave him a shrug. “Pretty much so. Why?”

“Because I happen to know where I can get my hands on a pump. Now, a generator's another thing. Those babies are at a premium here in Nam because of the U.S. buildup.”

Gripping his arm, Tess whispered, “You can get these things for us?”

“Sure.”

Releasing him, Tess gave him a guarded look. “How much will it cost?”

“A date in Saigon with me, honey. Now, is that too much to ask?”

With a laugh, Tess climbed into the jeep. “I'll have to think about this, Captain Mallory. I already owe you some time at the officers club. Let's just see how that goes first, shall we?”

Triumphantly, Pete smiled. The jeep roared to life and he quickly backed out of the area and headed down Highway 14 toward Highway 1. The vehicle bounced along the rutted road, a cloud of dust rising in its wake. “It will be a date you'll never forget,” he promised her wolfishly.

With a roll of her eyes, Tess tipped her head back and laughed fully. Still, another part of her, the part curious about lifting that wall around Pete, was intrigued and she wanted to know more.

* * *

At the row of tents reserved for civilian personnel at Da Nang, Tess had one all to herself. Outside the nondescript olive green tents was a line of showers made out of wooden walls with shower heads attached. It wasn't pretty, but it was functional. Tess stood under the tepid water and scrubbed herself clean with a bar of French milled soap. Drying off, she took the set of civilian clothes she'd hung over the plywood partition and dressed. Pete had promised to pick her up at 1700, to take her to dinner at the O club, replete with that promised glass of ice water. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was already 1700!

“Darn...” Tess hurried back to her tent, rummaged around and located her toiletry items. She brushed her still-damp hair, grabbed her clean knapsack and hurriedly left her tent. The area was deserted, although Tess knew a number of American technical advisors, all men, also lived in this section of the barracks. They were still at work. The rows of tents behind her housed the officers that comprised headquarters staff for the marine effort at Da Nang.

Pete Mallory was sitting in the jeep when she exited the tent row.

“Don't say it,” Tess said, walking over to the vehicle. “I know I'm late.”

He smiled, observing the dramatic change in Tess. She wore a short-sleeved pink cotton blouse, white cotton slacks and sandals. Her hair was thick and full, and framed her face to make her glorious green eyes just that much more beautiful. And to his surprise and pleasure, Tess even wore some pink lipstick and a set of dainty white earrings! When she came to sit in the jeep, he inhaled a spicy scent of her perfume.

“I expect a woman to be late,” Pete teased with a smile. “Anyone ever tell you that you're a knockout, Tess Ramsey?”

Heat flowed up her neck and into her cheeks as she avoided Pete's hooded stare, desire written in his eyes. She placed the knapsack on the floorboards between her feet.

“Thank you, Captain. You don't look so bad yourself.” And he didn't. He was wearing a bright Hawaiian-print shirt with red, blue and yellow tropical flowers, a set of loose khaki slacks and dark brown loafers—a far cry from his uniform. His smile was very confident. Very male.

“Yeah, I clean up pretty good when I want to.” He reached over and barely grazed her flaming cheek. “But, honey, so do you. Man, you are a knockout. Those boys over at the O club are gonna drool all over themselves when they see you come in on
my
arm.”

* * *

“So what do you see in living in Third World countries?” Pete wanted to know over dessert much later at the O club. He'd paid the Vietnamese waitress to put them in a corner where conversation and privacy were possible. Everywhere else in the dining room of the club—a large tent with a plywood floor—groups of various men, mostly marine officers, filled the tables. Pete was the only one with a woman—and an American, at that.

Tess sipped the hot coffee, holding the gold-rimmed china cup in her slender fingers. “As John Kennedy said before he was assassinated, we can all make a difference, remember? I liked his concept of the Peace Corps, and his commitment to the world at large. What about you? What made you join the Marine Corps?”

Pete always got edgy when the conversation went back to him. “You know—the image.”

“Come on,” Tess said, hooting, “give me the truth, Pete. You're evading me—again.”

“Well...maybe. I received a degree in aerodynamic engineering, and I wanted to fly. After officer's candidate school, I went to Pensacola, Florida, to try and win my wings, and I did. Helicopters fascinate me.”

“Why?”

“You can do so much more with them than you can a fixed-wing aircraft.” He used his hands to show her. “You can get that bird to stand on its nose if necessary, to squeeze into some tight places. I like the versatility of the chopper.”