by Sally John
Like she knew.
Tuyen held a large, padded envelope. Erik took hold of her elbow and drew her gently a few more steps into the room. They both looked over their shoulders at Rosie and the twins. Glances were exchanged, half nods given. They had all agreed Erik should be the spokesman. It was time now.
“Uh, everyone. Dad, Nana, Papa, Mom, Jen. This is Tuyen.” He paused. “Tuyen Beaumont.”
Dead silence. And then a whimper from Indio.
Rosie shut her eyes momentarily. The unspeakable agony of not knowing for thirty-five years what had happened to her son was wrapped up in the older woman’s soft cry.
“Uncle BJ was her father.” Erik added the unnecessary explanation.
“Was?” Ben croaked out the word.
Tuyen moved a step away from Erik and bowed slightly toward the others. “I am pleased to meet my grandparents and my uncle.”
Rosie’s heart thumped in triple time. She ached for the foreigner as she spoke in her thickly accented, gentle voice the words she must have rehearsed for years.
“My father killed when I am child. I very sorry for your loss.”
Ben moaned a long, low cry.
Indio wailed, a soul-shattering sound. Before it ended, before she could take another breath, she was rushing across the room and scooping Tuyen into her arms.
Wordlessly, the short, round woman of obvious Native American descent and the tall Amerasian in her beautiful traditional dress held on to each other, tears flowing unabashedly from both.
Rosie sank onto a chair near the door, suddenly overcome with gratitude that she was there to see such an incredible sight.
Danny tapped her arm and held out a box of tissues. She helped herself to a handful.
Several moments of quiet sniffles passed. After a bit Indio introduced the others to Tuyen, filling in their relational names for her. Papa Ben, Uncle Max, Cousin Jenna, Aunt Claire. Although everyone’s cheeks were damp, only Claire clasped her in a big hug as Indio had.
Max suggested they all sit back down. Indio ushered the girl to the couch. Claire offered to make tea.
Across the room, Tuyen caught Rosie’s eye. “This is my friend.”
Rosie met their puzzled looks with a little wave. She really needed to get out of there. “I’ll help with the tea.”
Claire gave her a slight nod and they walked together through the door.
The woman turned to her. “I’m Claire Beaumont.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Rosie Delgado.”
“How do you know”—she hesitated, no doubt getting used to not only the newcomer’s name, but her existence as well—“Tuyen?”
“Erik, Danny, and Lexi introduced us.”
“What?” She stopped in her tracks. “How did they . . .”
“Mrs. Beaumont, why don’t you sit down for a moment?” Rosie spotted a bench and led her to it.
She took the opportunity to glance around the place. It was a lovely old hacienda with white stucco walls and a red-tile roof. From the living room they had stepped directly outdoors onto a covered verandah. It surrounded a courtyard on three sides.
They now sat facing it. Dried-up flower beds and a broken fountain filled the space. She remembered the Rolando Bluff Fire of the previous fall. On the ride up the long driveway, she had noticed evidence of it having swept through the Beaumont grounds. It must have hit even inside this courtyard.
“Mrs. Beaumont—”
“Please, call me Claire.”
“All right. Claire. I’m here because Tuyen asked for a police escort.” She shrugged. “At this point I don’t know why.”
“But how did my children . . .” Again, her voice trailed off. The woman seemed to be in a daze. No wonder, given the circumstances.
“Tuyen tracked down Erik at the television studio last night. She made her police request, and he called the station and asked for me because, um . . .” Did the mother know about the DUI? Or the domestic disturbance call? If not, Rosie sure didn’t want to be the one to unload those surprises on the poor woman at that moment.
She continued. “Because we had met on a previous occasion. I patrol his neighborhood.”
Claire raised a palm. “Enough said.” She sighed. “I always wondered if BJ had survived, and if so, for how long. The details were sketchy about him being shot down. Then there were all those reports of MIAs being spotted.” Another sigh. “Well, the etiquette books never covered this one, did they?”
Rosie smiled. “Tea is a good idea.”
“I’m not sure, but my mother-in-law always makes tea. In the middle of the big fire here, she was making tea.” She placed a hand over her mouth, holding back a cry. “Dear Ben and Indio,” she whispered. “I feel so bad for them. They’ve been through too much, and now this.”
Rosie blinked back her own tears. Dear Lord. Help us. “Claire, the best thing you can do for them right now is hold yourself together. We’ll make the tea, and you will all get through this day. Everything will be okay.”
Claire removed her glasses and pressed a sleeve to her eyes. After a moment she nodded. “Thank you.”
“No problem. It’s just part of my job.” She grinned. “Boiling water is what I do best.”
Eighteen
Lexi couldn’t even lose herself in the fantasy of how to capture the moment on canvas. The whole scene was just too bizarre to compare to any known occurrence in her life. It was worse than anything. It was more devastating than the wildfire. Uglier than her parents’ breakup. More confusing than their reconciliation. In a different solar system from trying on little black dresses.
Knees pulled to her chest, she sat on the rug, leaning against the big stone hearth, a pillow cushioning her back. She fought down nausea one minute and tears the next. She imagined telling Zak about it, and then remembered he wasn’t her friend anymore.
By the time her mother and the policewoman served tea, it all seemed so ridiculous she wanted to laugh out loud hysterically to drown the noise in her head.
“Tuyen.” Her dad leaned forward in his chair, speaking in a gentle voice. “Will you tell us about your life?”
Typical Max; he had taken charge. Not that anyone else seemed capable at the moment.
The ripple effect went round and round the room. Nana whispered her favorite phrase, “God is good,” about five hundred times. She and Tuyen held each other’s hands until their knuckles were white. Papa blew out one breath after another until Lexi asked him if he was all right. She got a fierce scowl in reply. Erik and Danny had gone totally quiet, rearranged chairs, and twiddled their thumbs. Jenna kept shaking her head as if to knock something loose in it.
“Tuyen?” Max prompted again.
She lifted her gaze from the padded envelope on her lap and looked at him.
“Maybe you could start with your birth. When were you born?”
Lexi held her breath and traded panicked looks with Danny. Here it came, the worst part. She wanted to press her hands over Nana’s ears and make loud noises.
Tuyen said, “I was born in 1980.”
It took less than a split second for them all to do the arithmetic. Lexi knew they were finished when Nana gasped, Papa put his forehead in his hands, and her parents went bug-eyed and slack-jawed.
“Seven years?” Nana cried.
Max held up a hand. “When . . .” His voice was hoarse and it faltered. “When was your father killed?”
“Nineteen eighty-two.”
Lexi lowered her face to her knees, unable to watch the fresh wave of anguish roll through her family. She slipped her fingers into her ears, but that scarcely muffled the laments.
At least the worst was over. Now they knew everything. Uncle BJ disappeared, but he hadn’t died. No, he had lived for nine more years. Nine. And none of them were aware of it! He obviously was involved with a woman. He became a father. And then he died.
Yes, the worst was over. That was the final blow.
As far as Lexi knew, anyway.
&nb
sp; What about your mother, Tuyen?” Max asked after things had quieted again.
Lexi lifted her head. From the expressions on their faces, her family appeared in a suspended state of shock. At least the tears had slowed or stopped altogether.
“My mother die with my father.”
Nana touched Tuyen’s cheek. “Oh, my. I am so sorry. You poor, poor child. You must have been only two years old. Who raised you?”
“My grandparents. My mother’s parents.” She leaned into Nana’s hand and closed her eyes for a long moment.
Lexi noticed the large, unopened envelope still lay on her lap. She kept a protective hand over it as she had in the car on the ride to the house, but she was definitely more at ease than she’d been. Strange to think that they’d met less than twenty-four hours before.
Nana said, “Did they tell you about your parents?”
Tuyen nodded. “My father come from the sky. My mother see parachute, and she find him. He is hurt. Very hurt. Burned.” She traced a finger down her left arm, across her chest, over the left side of her face. “His leg wrong.” She reached down and made a twisting motion at her shin. “My mother take good care of him. She hide him from Communists. He get well. My grandparents don’t like, but she love him.”
A silent minute passed as that news sank in.
Max said, “Why didn’t they leave? Why didn’t he bring you to see us?”
“My village too far away. Far, far. Up in mountains. Enemy all around. Someone betray them. They kill them. My grandmother hide me.”
“In 1982?”
“Yes, 1982.”
“Do you remember your mother and father?”
Tuyen shook her head, but her face softened. “She was beautiful. He was tall. I have blue eyes like him.” She pointed to her eyes. “You want see photo?”
“You have a photo?” Max nearly shouted in surprise.
She nodded eagerly and reached inside the envelope. “My grandmother say more Americans in village before I am born. They have camera.”
“What happened to those other Americans?”
She shrugged. “Some go to Cambodia, not come back. Some die with my father.” She pulled things from the envelope. “See? Benjamin Charles Beaumont Junior and Niang Tam.”
As one, Lexi and her family swooped to the couch and surrounded it. Tuyen held the picture gently between her fingers and smiled.
The color photo was bent and cracked, the finish grainy. Lexi guessed it had been taken with an old Polaroid Land camera. Two people stood in it, a jungle scene as backdrop.
Uncle BJ almost did not resemble the pictures Lexi had seen of him. He was tall, like Papa, but he sort of tilted, as if one leg was shorter than the other. He was no longer handsome. Dark slacks and a baggy short-sleeved white shirt hung from him like rags on a broomstick. And he was burned, scars obvious on his arm and one side of his face.
Nana began to weep again, very softly. She whispered, “My son.”
Lexi wished she could run away and hide for a very long time.
Tuyen must have sensed they needed awhile to absorb each new thing she revealed. Whatever else she had pulled from the envelope, she kept hidden from their sight.
They all lingered in silence for a time, each dealing in their own way. Lexi noticed how close her parents sat together on the love seat, their hands entwined. Jenna had squeezed onto the end next to their mother. Danny and Erik alternately sat on the hearth and paced.
“Excuse me.” The policewoman spoke.
Lexi had forgotten she was even in the room.
Officer Delgado sat in an armchair near the door, apart from the semicircle of seats around the couch. She looked at Max. “Do you mind if I interrupt?”
He shook his head, still with a dazed expression.
“Tuyen,” Delgado said, “I am curious. Why did you want the police to come here with you today?”
“Because I am afraid. My grandparents always hate Americans. They say Beaumont family will hate me. They say Beaumont family will hurt me. Grandparents die, I come to San Francisco. Police protect me in San Francisco. Help me find my father’s family.”
“I understand.” Officer Delgado spread her hands. “Well, I think the Beaumonts are kind people. They will not hurt you.”
Tuyen grinned. Her face lit up. “No. They not hurt me.” She reached under the envelope. “I have necklace.”
Nana stared at the silver chain with its clinking little rectangles. Dog tags. Tuyen handed them to her.
Lexi crossed her arms, hugging herself tightly. Nana kissed the dog tags, unable to read them without her glasses. Danny went behind the couch and peered over her shoulder.
“Oh, man.” He whistled softly. “There it is.”
No one else moved. Another long, quiet moment passed.
Then Papa stood abruptly and glowered at Officer Delgado. “Blast it all!” he barked. “How do we know she’s telling the truth?”
Lexi flinched, but the policewoman didn’t bat an eyelash.
Nana spoke up quickly. “Ben.” The tone wasn’t her gentle one.
“Indio, I’ve got to get this off my chest. We cannot just swallow this nonsense whole.”
Delgado said, “Well, sir, you are right. We can’t verify the details at this point. But there are agencies to help. I was told she has papers, probably from Immigration.”
“A paper isn’t going to tell me one dang thing! Anybody in Vietnam could have picked up his dog tags. Photographs get doctored all the time. Anybody with half a brain could have gotten this information about BJ and found us.”
“Yes, but the question is what does Tuyen hope to gain by coming here?”
Nana put an arm around Tuyen, who cowered against her. “She doesn’t have a family. She wants a family.”
“And what if she’s not a Beaumont?” Papa shouted. “What do I owe her then? What if—”
“Sir.” Officer Delgado leaned forward in her chair. “It would be best for everyone if we all remained calm.”
“And who are you to tell me what to do in my home? Why are you here anyway?”
“I was invited by your grandchildren. Now I realize blue eyes are a dime a dozen, but Tuyen does have the same blue as you do. There’s a possibility of DNA testing, comparing yours and hers—”
“Officer.” Papa growled now. “There’s only one thing that does not add up and it will never add up. My son would have come home, or he would have died trying, long before 1982 rolled around!”
He stomped across the room and through the door.
No one said a word. Maybe they were all as stunned as Lexi. Maybe they were all thinking what she was: Yeah, Papa had a point there.
Nineteen
I need a drink.”
Erik muttered the remark more to himself than to Rosie. But she heard it and it rankled. The guy had so much going for himself, not the least of which was a caring family. Why did he insist on throwing it all away?
They walked through the cold dark toward her car. A row of solar lights softly lit the flagstone path across the front yard. Stars shone, the sky dense with them. Thick quiet enveloped the place like a silky blanket.
Rosie could not reconcile the peace with Erik’s crummy preoccupation with himself. “Beaumont, give me a break. You’ve got so much to be grateful for. Granted, I have not walked in your moccasins. And it’s true, looks and money don’t equal fulfillment. But you have a family who dropped everything they were doing because you needed help. Your brother and sister last night. The others today probably thought you were coming up to be with them for your own sake. Now they embrace this hapless stranger.”
“Not totally. My grandfather will never do so. Lexi and I have doubts. Dad’s uncharacteristically quiet. He’s not sold, I can tell.”
“I’m talking generalities. You’re all at least willing to give her the time of day and her story a chance. Except maybe your grandfather.” The old man never had reappeared.
She and Erik went down the few railroad-
tie steps to the parking area and walked across the gravel. She could almost feel Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected bristle beside her.
Oh, well. That was his problem. It was time for her to exit the scene.
She’d declined Claire’s kind invitation to stay for dinner. Tuyen was in good hands. Indio and Claire just assumed the stranger would stay with them. Rosie saw the beautiful guest room where she would live for the time being. Danny had already carried Tuyen’s lone gym bag into it.
Rosie stopped near her SUV and turned to Erik. “The point is they are rallying around you and now around Tuyen.”
“Officer, who asked you?”
The guy was such a loser. “You invited me, remember? My opinion comes with the territory.”
“You don’t know diddly-squat about my family or about my life.”
“I know they care, and I know that the perfect family does not exist. We all have to deal with whatever hand we’re dealt.”
He jingled a set of keys before her. “I am dealing with it.” He spun on his heel and strode toward one of the other cars in the lot.
Visions flashed through Rosie’s mind. She could see him sitting on a barstool in nearby Santa Reina and then swerving along the narrow two-lane back to the hacienda.
“Erik!” She snapped his name.
He paused, his hand on the open car door, and looked back at her.
“Promise me something.” Aw, nuts. Was she really saying this? Was she really swinging open the door to her Adopt the Hopeless Club? How grossly unprofessional! She was an idiot.
But she couldn’t help it.
She said, “Promise me you will buy your alcohol in town and bring it back here to drink.”
Without a word, he got into the car, started it, and peeled out of the lot, gravel spewing from the tires.
Dear Lord, please keep him safe!
Lost in thought, Rosie drove more cautiously than Erik had. The long road down to the highway was dirt and gravel. It wound through the dark hills, lit only by stars and her headlights.
At a bend in the road she saw a figure standing near a turnoff and assumed it was Ben Beaumont. She remembered Erik pointing out the spot on their way up. His grandparents lived in an RV on the site, next to their future home.
