Heart Stealers

by Patricia McLinn

  Cassie joined them.

  Cassie.

  He had to consciously quell his physical reaction to her. It was class time, he told himself. He couldn’t afford to remember what her nimble hands had done to his back a week ago, or what her feminine curves had felt like sprawled across him on his couch. Memories of that night had all but ruined his skiing trip with Kurt. Mitch grinned as he recalled his brother’s teasing. Man, I beat you down the slope four times. Where are you? For most of the four days, Mitch had been back on that couch with Cassie. Only his commitment to Kurt had kept him from returning early.

  As it was, he hadn’t been able to see her since he’d gotten back—he’d had an engagement Wednesday with the police department and she’d been busy last night. But they had a date tonight.

  The classes, too, had gone easier than he’d expected. The kids were curious during the discussion of the book, but respectful of his feelings and didn’t push.

  They’d asked how real the book was....

  “Other than the lack of swearing, the book is very real. Especially its emphasis on the bugs, the heat and the wetness.”

  Fascinated, the kids listened intently when he’d told them about the snakes. “There were thirty-two varieties in Nam. Thirty were poisonous, especially the two-steppers.”

  “Two-steppers?” they’d asked.

  “Yeah. If one bit you, you only got to take two steps before you keeled over and died.”

  “Hey, man,” Youngblood had yelled. “Think we can plant one in Bosco’s room?”

  “Okay, everyone, let’s put the journals away and get out Fallen Angels.”

  Mitch picked up the book.

  “Today we’re going to read a really gruesome part of the story. Anybody who thinks they can’t handle it can go into Ms. Caufield’s room, skip these few pages and read ahead.”

  Of course, no one volunteered to leave. Though she was serious about excusing them, her caveat was the best way to keep them glued to their seats.

  “Open to page one sixty-eight.” They did, and Cassie began to read aloud. She got through two pages before Mitch started to sweat. This couldn’t be...how could anyone know...he breathed in and closed his eyes. He could block out the printed words but not Cassie’s voice as she read the account of a child who, when an American soldier had picked him up, had exploded in the man’s arms. The boy had been mined by his brainwashed mother.

  Bile rose in Mitch’s throat. He hadn’t realized he’d moaned until he noted the silence. When he opened his eyes, Cassie knelt before him. “Mitch, are you okay?”

  He stared at her.

  “You look sick. You’re sweating badly.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. Twelve pairs of eyes were on him. He took several shallow breaths to calm himself.

  He had to get out of here. Of all the atrocities he’d experience in Nam, this was the worst. What she’d just read aloud...

  “Mitch, is it the story?” She hesitated when he covered his face with his hands. “Look,” she said to the class, “I’m going to take Captain Lansing out in the hall. You can read by yourselves. Johnny, go get—”

  “No.” Mitch’s sharply uttered word stopped Cassie and any action that had begun in the room. “No!”

  “But Mitch, you’re obviously upset.”

  He looked up at her, then at the kids. His vision blurred a bit when it landed on Som. The Vietnamese girl. He’d seen those eyes...those eyes had...

  “I—” He stuttered out the words. “I saw this.”

  No one moved.

  Finally, Cassie clutched his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  And then it tumbled out. A story he’d never told anyone, not Kurt, not the counselors, no one.

  “I’d been in Nam a year when some new staff was hired at the hooch. They were all South Vietnamese. The government thought it good PR to let the natives we were defending make some money off us.” He looked at Som again. “There was a young boy there; he was fourteen, quiet, unassuming, like all of them.

  “One day, I came back to my bunk and saw him looking at a radio Kurt had sent me. I’d left it on my bed, stupidly, because everything got stolen over there. Anyway, Tam...” Mitch stumbled over the name he hadn’t spoken in twenty-seven years. “That was his name, Tam. He was smiling. I’d never seen the kid smile. I thought of Kurt—and me—and the TVs we had in our rooms, the stereos we took for granted. I gave Tam the radio. Slowly, he began to talk to me. He was orphaned, his immediate family wiped out by a raid on his village. He lived with his uncle.” Mitch looked around the room, his eyes landing on Johnny. “He was so bright, like you Johnny. And he had the same dream of becoming a doctor. After several months of talking to him, I began to think I could help him. My father was a doctor, Kurt wanted to be a doctor and had the road paved for him. Why couldn’t Tam?”

  Mitch drew in a deep breath. “I began to make some inquiries about how I could get the boy back to the States. My parents would be able to sponsor him, would be able to help. Apparently, I was overheard—I think it was a phone call I’d made to the embassy. Anyway, it got back to his village—his uncle, we later found out, was anti-American. He hated us, as a lot of Vietnamese civilians did.”

  Mitch looked down at the book, feeling his throat closing up. He couldn’t finish—yet he had to. Now that he’d started, he had to get it out. “One beautiful sunny morning, on Tam’s day off, I went into the village with the good news. I’d found a way to get Tam home. I decided not to wait until I was discharged, because it looked like the war was ending and I thought I’d have a better chance of getting him out while we were still there. As it turned out, I was right. The U.S. pulled out five months later and no natives were able to get out of Nam for a long time.”

  Cassie asked, “What happened to Tam?”

  Mitch’s vision blurred. “I’d told him I’d be there in the morning. They knew...they knew what I’d come for. He was standing by a hut. I remember wondering why he seemed so sad. When he looked up and saw me, he started to run in the opposite direction. I didn’t know why then. He got about ten feet when...” Unable to get the words out, Mitch drew in a deep breath. “He...he blew up...right before my eyes. His little body flew all over in pieces.” Mitch buried his face in his hands. “In pieces,” he heard himself sob out.

  He felt Cassie’s strong hands on his shoulder, squeezing him. After a long time, he opened his eyes. He saw her eyes brimming with tears. The oddness of that registered somewhere in his muddled brain. Then he looked beyond her. All the kids had gotten up and formed a half circle around him. Not one was dry-eyed. Mitch was the first to speak. “I haven’t been honest with you guys,” he said. “I didn’t want to work with you because you reminded me of him.” His gaze rested on the teary eyes of Som, then on the bright eyes of Johnny. “Especially a few of you.”

  They stared back.

  “And, about me saving those five men. It wasn’t bravery. It wasn’t heroism. Truthfully, I didn’t care if I died.”

  More aware now, he heard Nikki sobbing. “I’m not saying that to upset you. But it’s what happens, Nikki. It’s what I was trying to tell you. I went crazy after I saw what they did to Tam. Four soldiers had to hold me down—I was going for my gun, I wanted to shoot whoever had done this to that child. Eventually they had to sedate me. But I found a way to cope with it.”

  No one asked him how.

  He raised his chin. “I shut down. I didn’t let anyone in. Unlike your dads, Johnny, Nikki, I was more successful—I could do it most of the time.”

  “Until you started working with us,” Johnny stated.

  Mitch smiled at Johnny’s insight. “Yeah, you guys have a way of breaking down walls.” He rubbed the moisture from his cheeks and took in a deep breath. A few of the boys turned away, self-consciously hiding their reactions. Some of the females—including Cassie—were still crying. Huge fat tears were coursing down her cheeks.

  Mitch became aware of a commotion in the hall. Class had
ended. Cassie noticed it, too, because she stood and went to her desk. She returned with tissues; by then some of the kids had circled closer.

  Som leaned over and hugged him. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry more. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she said before she backed away.

  In turns each of the kids made contact—a grave look, a thank you, a squeeze on the arm. Johnny’s face was haggard. He came up on his knees and hugged Mitch, too. Over the boy’s shoulder, Mitch saw Cassie openly sobbing.

  Nikki was the last one. After a meaningful hug, she said, “Thanks, Captain, for telling us this.” She drew back and smiled at him. “You got us now, you know, even though you don’t have Tam anymore.”

  Mitch’s throat felt tight. He couldn’t respond, but squeezed her hand before she left.

  The room was mercifully still when the kids were gone. Mitch was dimly aware that this must be one of the days when the tenth-graders went to gym. Drained, he let out a sigh and looked at Cassie on the other side of the room.

  Her face tear-stained, she managed to say, “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

  She held up Fallen Angels. “This was a bad idea.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never told anyone that story. I needed to get it out.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And—you know—I didn’t even realize until today, that at the time I saved those men, I didn’t care whether I lived or died.”

  Cassie just stared at him. “What can I do?”

  He stood and stretched. “Nothing. I’ll find a way to cope. Maybe I’ll go back to the counselor.”

  “You’re still coming over tonight, aren’t you?”

  “No. I’ll be worse tonight.”

  Her eyes filled again. “Please, Mitch, come over tonight.”

  He shook his head.

  Her chin jutted out. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Crossing to her, he touched the wetness on her cheek. “I’ve never seen you cry. How long has it been?”

  “More than twenty years.”

  Gently, he brushed his thumb over her mouth. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I’ll wait for you tonight, Mitch.”

  “Don’t. I’m not coming.”

  The last vision he had was of her standing in the middle of her room, her face tilted up, her cheeks wet, saying, “I’ll wait.”

  * * *

  At five o’clock that afternoon, Cassie was no longer crying—but she was still upset. She’d raced right home after school, hoping Mitch would come over early. To busy herself, she cooked. She put together homemade chicken soup, baked bread from dough she’d had frozen and made chocolate chip cookies—all food to soothe the soul. When that was done, she built a fire and alternately prowled in front of it or snuggled in an afghan on the couch.

  At six-thirty, when the doorbell rang, she flew to it.

  Seth Taylor stood on the porch. Behind him a blanket of snow covered her lawn and sidewalk, and big fat flakes filtered down from the sky. “Hi. Can I come in?”

  She nodded and struggled to keep her disappointment at bay.

  “It’s nasty out there,” he said, shaking the snow off his boots and shrugging out of his coat. “A real winter storm.”

  “Oh.” Cassie led him into the living room.

  “I heard what happened today,” he said, when they were settled on the couch. “Are you all right?”

  “Who told you?”

  “The kids were buzzing about it. And Zoe came to see me after she’d talked to you. She’s worried, but she’d already made plans to leave town for the weekend.”

  Cassie gave him a weak grin. “You’re both good friends.”

  Reaching out, Seth squeezed her arm. “Big news, that Ms. Smith cried. Even when you were a kid, I never once saw the tears.”

  “His story was awful, Seth.”

  “I bet it was. I know a lot of veterans. Since my lottery number was high, I wasn’t drafted. But some of my friends were.”

  Cassie stared out the ice-encrusted window. “I’m so worried about him. We had a date, but he said he wasn’t coming.”

  Seth angled his head. “A date? I suspected something was going on between you two.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s just say he was very protective of you.”

  “I wonder where he is.”

  “Have you tried to reach him?”

  She nodded. “I called his house twice. You think I should try again?”

  “Yeah.”

  At her principal’s urging, Cassie telephoned Mitch’s home. No answer. Next she called the police station. Hal Stonehouse said Mitch had left work about four. He’d seemed unusually quiet today, Hal told her. Was anything wrong?

  Finally, she called Kurt. She sipped the coffee Seth had retrieved from the kitchen as she waited for Mitch’s brother to come on the line.

  “Lansing.”

  “Kurt, this is Cassie Smith. We’ve never met, but I’m a friend of your brother’s.”

  “Yes, Cassie. I’ve...heard your name.” There was amusement in his voice, before awareness dawned. “Has something happened to Mitch?”

  “No, no, I don’t mean to alarm you. I was looking for him...” She stumbled when she started to tell him what had happened in class. Her eyes stung. Somehow she got out a brief version.

  “I haven’t seen him. But I’ll make a few calls and get back to you.” He took her number and hung up.

  Cassie turned to find Seth donning his coat. “I’m going to drive around town and look for Mitch. I’ve got a commitment at eight with my son, but I’ll call or stop back.”

  “Thanks. I’d go out, but I think I should stay here in case he changes his mind and shows up.”

  Smiling, Seth said, “You’re not in this alone, Cassie. Neither is he. I’ll be in touch.”

  An hour later, Seth called. He hadn’t found Mitch. Promising to call back, he told her everything would be all right.

  Cassie sank onto the couch, unable to block out the horror revealed that morning. She took in deep breaths, trying to get a grip. The child blown apart before his eyes...Mitch going wild...his stone-faced reluctance to get involved. No wonder he was so controlled, so in need of rules and regimens.

  The bell rang again, startling her out of her ruminations. Again she flew to the door, dragging it open hopefully.

  And there he stood. His face was wind-whipped, his eyes wide.. He stared at her, his hands stuck in the pockets of his bomber jacket. “I couldn’t stay away. I tried. I drove all over, then it got too bad on the roads. I was heading home...” He scanned her house. “I ended up here instead.”

  Heaving a sigh of relief, she drew him inside and closed the door on the bitter, frigid air. She turned and watched him, thanking God he’d come.

  He paced. “I shouldn’t have come. I don’t know why I did.” He stopped abruptly and faced her. “I want, I need...something.”

  Slowly, Cassie crossed to him; she encircled his neck with her arms and pulled him close. He was cold and tense and, she knew, hurting, so she molded her body to him. “I’ll give you whatever you need, Mitch.”

  Stiffening, he pushed her away. “No, no, don’t say that.” Then he yanked her back to him and buried his lips in her hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What I’m saying. I—”

  The phone rang. Cassie whispered, “I’ve got to answer that.” She told him about calling Kurt, and how Seth was looking for him. He followed her into the living room while she answered it; Cassie assured Seth that Mitch was all right and thanked him for his help. All the while, Mitch paced in front of the fireplace. She phoned Kurt, too, and told him Mitch was with her. Holding her hand over the mouthpiece, she said, “Do you want to talk to him?”

  Mitch shook his head, then said, “I’d better.” He took the phone from her. “Yeah, I’m all right. No, no, you don’t have to do that. It’s rotten weather, anyway.” He turned and studied Cassi
e. “Yes, I’ll stay here.” She saw him grip the receiver. “Yeah, I love you, too.” He barely got the last words out.

  Setting the phone down, he said, “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “You told Kurt you’d stay.”

  “He’s worried.”

  “A lot of people care about you.”

  “I shouldn’t be here,” he repeated.

  “Why?”

  “I have nothing to give you, Cassie.”

  “Then let me give to you.”

  His emotions flared, skidding out of control again. “I won’t be satisfied with a back rub tonight.”

  Her eyes never left his. “All right.” Unbuttoning her sweater with steady hands, she crossed to him. By the time she reached him, the front was undone, her lacy bra peeking out.

  His eyes riveted on it, then locked on hers. “I don’t want a mercy fuck.”

  She pressed two fingers against his lips. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  He frowned.

  “I’ve wanted this for weeks,” she told him, molding her lower body against him. “So have you. We’ve been dancing around it because we’re both wary.” She reached up and twined her arms around him again. “I’m sick of the caution.” She brushed her lips against his. “Make love to me, Mitch.”

  His hands went to her waist. They flexed several times there. They pulled her close. “If I do... I’m going to want you all night, Cassie.”

  She shivered involuntarily, then whispered in his ear, “I’ve never been wanted all night before.”

  Holding her close, he plunged his hand in her hair. He kissed her deeply, then led her toward the fire.

  Snagging the afghan from the couch, he tossed it on the floor. Two big, fat pillows followed it. Kicking off his shoes, he stepped onto the afghan and pulled her with him. The firelight flickered on his face, softening the harsh planes of his jaw. Reaching up, she ran her palm over it. It was sandpapery.

  “My beard’s rough. I’ll hurt you.”