Whirling around, Pete moved drunkenly down the flight line toward the nearby beaches. They would be devoid of people, and he needed to be alone. This time he couldn’t escape the pain. This time he couldn’t go far enough, fast enough, to escape the terrible anguish exploding deep inside him.
Tess’s image hovered before his eyes. Tess, who was strong and vulnerable at the same time. As he ran, the humid wind tearing at him, Pete knew he had to see her soon. Somehow, only Tess could protect him against these terrible, overwhelming feelings.
*
Tess thanked the jeep driver who had given her a lift to her tent from the convoy staging area. The evening was beautiful as she stood outside the tents, looking up at the sky. Lavender and gold stained the horizon, although the serene beauty was ruined by jets taking off and the whap, whap, whap of helicopter blades cutting into the dusk around her. As she trudged into her tent, she worried how Pete was getting along.
Last night she’d gone to the officers club only to discover that he wasn’t there. Some of Pete’s buddies told her they’d carried him back to his quarters after he’d drank himself into a stupor. As much as she’d wanted to see him, Tess knew it was stupid to try under the circumstances. Early this morning, she’d hitched a ride back out to Le My, and had worked steadily through the day. But not an hour went by that she didn’t think of Pete—of the pain he carried over the death of his friends. Tess had gone back to the MASH unit last night, only to find that neither Joe nor Jerry had made it. The discovery had strengthened her realization about how tenuous a hold a person had on life. By the grace of God, Pete had escaped most of the injury. But it could just as easily have been him, Tess acknowledged.
In her tent, she changed into a light cotton wrap and went to take a shower. She had promised to meet Gib for dinner at the officers club at 1800. Yesterday’s crash had made her realize that even her brother, whom she loved with a fierceness that defied description, was vulnerable to being shot down.
Tess changed into a light blue cotton skirt that nearly brushed her ankles, a pair of sandals and a simple white cotton blouse with short puffed sleeves. Her mind, and if she admitted it to herself, her heart, were really centered on Pete. Perhaps after dinner she could hunt him down and talk with him—see how he was handling the deaths of his friends and coping with the crash.
Pete Mallory was sitting at the officers club bar when he saw Tess step through the door of the large tent facility. The shot of Johnnie Walker Red hesitated midway to his lips. His heart thudded powerfully in his chest as she stood there uncertainly, as if looking for someone. Him? He tipped his head back, gulped down the whiskey, and placed the shot glass on the varnished plywood surface. Tossing piasters to the Vietnamese bartender, he slid off the stool. The bar was always filled with off-duty marine officers, plenty of Vietnamese bar girls in skimpy miniskirts, loud music and thick clouds of cigarette smoke. The overall odor was a mixture of alcohol and cigarettes, something Pete could tolerate over the memory of other smells that haunted him.
He went to intercept Tess, who stood uncertainly, holding a small leather purse. A huge part of him reached out toward her. His gaze stripped her, and he felt like a starving, predatory wolf devouring her simple beauty with his eyes. What he really wanted—needed—was to bury himself in her warm, loving arms.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite lady,” he teased.
Tess whirled to her right at the sound of his voice. “Pete!” She quickly looked him over, her heart beginning to hammer. He was in his wrinkled green flight suit and black boots, the garrison cap tucked beneath one shoulder epaulet. It was his face, the terror lurking in the depths of his blue eyes, that shattered her heart. His skin was pale and beaded with sweat, his mouth drawn into a smile that didn’t reach those tortured eyes.
“The one and only. Lady,” he whispered as he gripped her by the shoulders, “you look good enough to eat. Come here, give your favorite pilot a kiss.”
The odor of whiskey assailed Tess as Pete pulled her toward him. “Pete…no!” She placed both her hands against his chest to stop him. “You’re drunk!”
Pete’s grin grew. “Me? Drunk? No, honey, not drunk, just forgetting a few things. Come on, how about that kiss? The last one wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Heat flew to Tess’s face and she struggled out of his grip. “Pete, get ahold of yourself, will you?”
Confused, Pete cocked his head in her direction. “I thought you wanted me.”
Tess looked around, afraid someone would overhear their conversation. “Pete, straighten up! You’re drunker than a skunk, and I’ve got no intention of kissing you in this condition!”
Hurt, he muttered, “Well, I just thought you’d be glad to see me. I’m glad to see you.”
Tess couldn’t stand the hurt-puppy-dog look he gave her. He certainly knew how to manipulate her emotionally. Gripping his arm, Tess turned toward the dining room. She was a bit early for dinner with Gib, so she hauled Pete along with her.
“Come on, mister. There are only two things you’re getting from me: hot black coffee and some food in that gut of yours. And don’t you dare fight me on this, Pete! Don’t you dare!”
He gave her a loose grin and shrugged. “Far be it from me to say no to a lady.”
The hostess gave Tess a table in a corner away from most of the other patrons. Tess ordered coffee and hamburgers for both of them, then, after the waitress left, she turned grimly to Pete, who sat at her elbow, the same silly smile on his features.
“You’re drunk.”
“Naw, I’m not drunk, honey.”
“Have you been drinking since yesterday night?”
With a shrug, Pete muttered, “No. I got up this morning and…well, I started drinking late this afternoon.” He looked blearily at the watch on his right wrist. “About an hour ago, honey, so don’t look so upset. I drink every night. Everyone does.”
Her heart wrung with compassion for Pete, but Tess was angry with him, too. “You’ve been through a lot the last couple of days,” she said softly. And then the anger leaked through. “Drinking is just another form of escape, Pete.” And there was no doubt he was trying to hide.
Pete held the beaded, cool glass of water between his trembling fingers. Maybe they wouldn’t shake as much if he held onto something, he thought. “In this business, it’s a healthy thing to do,” he said stubbornly.
Tess lowered her voice, tense. “Do you know about Joe and Jerry?”
He winced and refused to meet her eyes. “Yeah…”
Tears flooded into Tess’s eyes and she forced them back. “They were your friends, Pete. I’m so sorry you lost them. You’ve got to be feeling horrible about it.”
“Honey, in this business, you don’t make friends. It don’t pay,” Pete muttered darkly. “It’s just like women: you love ’em and leave ’em. You don’t get tangled up with them personally or they’ll end up hurting the hell out of you.” He glanced over at her. “War’s the same way. You don’t get close to anyone, Tess. You don’t dare, or it’ll rip you apart.”
Staring over at the suffering so visible on his features, Tess realized how hopelessly crazy she was to think anything lasting could ever happen between them. “People who care are a shadow to you, aren’t they?” she whispered bitterly.
He smiled. “Shadow? Sure, honey, anyone who wants a piece of me is a shadow on my life. Shadows are like blights, you know?”
Tess felt utterly hurt and helpless. No one needed to be held more than Pete did right now, yet he was pushing her away. Staring at him, she tried to determine how to help him. She took his cool, sweaty hand between her own.
“Pete, you’re worth more than that, and so am I.”
He blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“You and I,” Tess whispered, “are worth more than this crazy idea you have in your head. I’m not a shadow on your life! And you certainly aren’t on mine, either. Feelings, Pete, are good. Even ones that hurt us aren’t necessarily bad.
” Her fingers tightened on his. “Have you been able to cry for the loss of your crew yet? Have you let yourself?”
With a curse, he jerked his hand away. Glaring at her, he rasped, “You don’t know the first thing about feelings!” Pushing to his feet, Pete nearly overturned the table. Run! The word pounded through his head. Run! Blindly, he staggered around the table and headed toward the door. He heard Tess call him once. Her voice, the awful tone of pain laced with care, washed through him. He had to escape. Blindly, Pete ran through the foyer of the officers club and threw open the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pete stood uncertainly by the jeep, staring angrily at the village of Le My. It had been three weeks since he’d last seen Tess, after the crash and loss of his crew. He’d left her at the O club and hadn’t looked back—until now. Rubbing his cheek, feeling the bristle of beard beneath his palm, he sighed and stared down at the red dirt beneath his booted feet. What the hell was he doing here? Why didn’t the image of Tess’s vulnerable features ever leave him—even during his worst nightmares?
A huge part of him wanted to let the past remain buried, as he always had before, but something invisible was pulling him to confront Tess. The village children began to gather around him, giving him curious looks. Occasionally one of the smaller tykes smiled.
Pete watched them slowly surround him and the jeep. These were the children Tess loved so deeply, little ragamuffins caught in the middle of an escalating war. He’d already heard of several children being instructed to carry hand grenades from the VC to some unsuspecting marine who was part of a pacification team in a village or hamlet. Pete shook his head. He never wanted that to happen to him with one of these innocent children. The thought of having to kill a child in order to save himself from being blown up was just too overwhelming to contemplate. War was a filthy thing, he decided.
“You little rug-rats,” he muttered, and dug deep into one of the pockets of his flight suit. “Here.” Producing six packs of gum, he tossed them among the awaiting children and watched them scream and yell with glee as they fought to get his gifts. As he walked toward the center of the village, Pete felt disgust and anger. It wasn’t fair. The kids were caught in the middle. But at least they had one champion: Tess. As he walked, his heavy heart began to feel lighter. Pete couldn’t explain why the awful feelings that had hung around him like a dark cloud were suddenly beginning to dissolve. What kind of hold did Tess have over him?
Finally, a small girl dressed in a castoff cotton dress led him by the hand to where Tess was working. Pete paused at the door of the hut. The curtain had been pushed aside, and Pete peered into the gloomy depths. Tess was on her hands and knees bending over a small boy. He was sick, there was no doubt. Pete stood awkwardly for several moments before he spoke. Just seeing Tess made his heart swell with such a fierce tide of emotion and longing that a lump formed in his throat, blocking his words.
Tess was wearing her Vietnamese clothes once again—loose black pants and a dark blue top. Her hair was haphazardly pinned into a chignon at the nape of her slender neck, and tendrils stuck damply to her temples and cheeks as she worked over the boy, dipping a cloth into a small tin bowl, then wringing it out and bathing the child with it.
Pete’s gaze moved to the boy, who couldn’t be more than two years old. His left arm was in a dirty bandage, and he was delirious, his extremities moving and jerking of their own accord. Only Tess’s soothing voice and the touch of her hand seemed to quiet him. On the other side of the child knelt the mother, who looked to be barely out of her teens. Pete wondered if the child was a by-product of some GI, since he looked almost white and his facial features didn’t appear Vietnamese.
“Looks like I came at a bad time,” Pete said from the doorway.
Tess gasped. She straightened and gazed toward the door. “Pete!”
He nodded but had no smile for her. Still, the look in her widening green eyes melted his hardened resolve not to let her affect him. Ducking through the entrance, he came and crouched close to where she knelt.
“What’s going on with this kid?” he demanded.
Tess felt an incredible warmth suffuse her. “The baby was bitten by one of the village dogs a week ago. The mother didn’t tell me about it, because kids get bitten all the time.” Sadly, Tess touched the baby’s hot, feverish brow and thin strands of black hair. “The dog has rabies.”
“Damn.” Pete saw the terrible anguish in Tess’s eyes as she returned to bathing the child. “How about rabies vaccine?”
“Sure. I’ll just run down to the doctor’s office and get this poor child that series of shots.”
Pete heard the sarcastic edge to Tess’s throaty voice. Studying her closer, Pete saw she looked drawn and exhausted. “What can I do to help?”
Tess’s hands shook, and she tried to hide her reaction. It had been three long weeks without any contact with Pete. Her emotions were frayed from staying up with the baby last night. “Help or run?” she snapped.
Stung, Pete glared at her. “Look, this rug-rat needs help. I’m offering to do what I can.”
Slowly she turned her head. She met and held his angry gaze. “I didn’t think you’d want to get involved in anything that might leave you open to hurt.”
Grimly, Pete looked into her defiant green eyes, shadowed with fatigue. In that moment, he realized just how much Tess needed to be held. She had to be strong for everyone. Right now, the distraught Vietnamese mother was looking at her as if Tess could cure her child of rabies. Pete knew she couldn’t. Putting away his hurt at her accusing words, he muttered, “Did you contact Gib for help?”
“Yes,” Tess said wearily, “but he couldn’t budge any medical help loose. Now he’s down in Saigon with Dany Villard on business.”
“What do you need?”
Tess shrugged. “I think it’s too late for this little one. Even if we could get him the series of shots, I don’t think he’ll survive.” Pushing a strand of red hair out of her eyes, Tess went on in a dull voice, “What could help in the long run is rabies vaccine for the dogs in the villages I work with. Then we wouldn’t have rabies victims.”
“Who is the little rug-rat?”
Tess looked down at the baby while the mother took over bathing her child with the washcloth. “His father’s an American advisor. Lee, the mother, danced at one of the clubs in Saigon to make enough money to survive.”
“She did more than dance.”
“She’s doing what’s necessary to survive,” Tess said tightly. “And the American GIs aren’t helping the situation. They use these poor women, then throw them away. When Lee got pregnant, the club owner fired her.”
“Who’s been taking care of her since then?”
“Me. Lee’s family is either dead, kidnapped or in the South Vietnamese Army. She and a lot of other young women are falling through the cracks of the system as their families are broken up.” Tess smiled softly over at the mother, who looked terribly worried. “I helped Lee deliver her son.”
Pete saw the danger in Tess’s relationship to the baby. Why didn’t she pull away from emotional things like this? Why did she insist upon getting involved when the kid could die, leaving Tess wide open for heartache and grief? Scratching his head, Pete said, “Look, if a helo flies in wounded refugees, they accept them at the MASH units on base. How about if I bring a chopper in here so you can transport the kid and his mother to the base? That way, he’s assured of quick medical help.”
“Oh, would you, Pete? Could you?”
He shrugged at the sudden hope in her voice and shining green eyes. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Could you get in trouble for this?”
He grinned sourly. “Hell, I’ll just rig an emergency call. Nobody will know the difference back at Marble Mountain.”
“But…if you get caught…”
“I won’t. Don’t worry about it.”
“When can you come?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Tess
studied the baby, her brow wrinkled. “It might be too late, Pete.”
He straightened to his full height. “It’s the best I can do. In the meantime, I’ll go back to base and see if I can round up some rabies vaccine for the mutts around your villages.”
Tensely, Tess got to her feet, telling the mother she’d be right back. Moving over to Pete, she followed him out of the hut.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She reached out to touch his arm, then drew back, remembering he’d been wounded in that arm. Wondering why he’d suddenly stepped back into her life, Tess asked in a low voice, “How are you, Pete?”
He glanced at his healing arm. “Mean as ever. Come on, you can walk me back to the jeep.” He looked up at the sky. “You coming into Da Nang tonight?”
Tess hesitated for a long moment, her heart at war with her head. Finally, she fell into step with him. “No, and don’t tell Gib when he gets back from Saigon, either.”
Pete met and held her gaze, confused by her sudden coolness toward him. “I won’t tell him, but you ought to come back with me.”
“I want to stay with Lee and her baby. She needs the support.”
With a shrug, Pete muttered, “You’re just as bullheaded as ever, aren’t you?”
Tess glared at him. “Seems to run in our family.” Then she gave in to her aching heart, the part of her that was lonely without Pete. “How are you?”
“You already asked me that.”
“You never answered.”
“I said I’m fine. Mean as ever.”
“That’s a cover, Pete,” she said angrily. Tess halted at the jeep and held his blue gaze, still seeing the remnants of the crash in his eyes. “I want the truth.”
He threw his hands on his hips, a scowl on his tense face. “My arm’s healed, and I’m back to flying two or three missions daily. I’ve got a new crew, and I’m trying to train them so they don’t get blown away. It’s a pain in the ass because I’m afraid of losing them.”
One Man's War Page 9
