One Man's War (20 page)

Pete stood alone on the tarmac watching Tess move into the gloomy, cavernous hold of the C-130. He should have told her! But how could Tess love him if she knew he'd deceived her? Miserably, Pete turned away, tears stinging his eyes.

W
hat's wrong with me?
Tess blinked and stared down at the report in her hand. The cool air-conditioned comfort of her new office should have relaxed her, but it didn't. She was chilled—as usual. With a frustrated sound, Tess threw the report on the desk. The door to her eighth-floor office was open, and outside it stretched the vast governmental secretarial pool.

Just as Tess reached for her sweater, a loud crash sounded outside her door. Gasping, Tess automatically winced and froze. Her heart pounded erratically, and she broke out into a heavy sweat.

Her mouth dry, Tess turned toward her open door. The mail boy had accidentally dropped a large, flat parcel on the floor. Gulping convulsively, Tess shut the door, then leaned against it, assailed with sudden dizziness.

What's wrong with me? What's going on?

The surge of adrenaline left her slowly, and Tess forced herself to move on wobbly knees to her chair. She sat down before she fell. With trembling hands, she touched her damp brow. Terror raced through her. She shut her eyes, feeling as if the entire world was slowly eroding out of her control. She sat back, opened her eyes and stared at the stack of field reports on her desk, begging to be read. Why did every little sound scare her so much? Why couldn't she concentrate? Headaches plagued her constantly, sometimes forcing her to leave work a half day early or not come in until noon.

Tess thought about Pete, and felt less hysterical. Good, warm feelings flowed through her, easing the terrible fear that continuously held her in its grip.
Pete. Oh God, if only you were here. I could talk to you. I could tell you about all of this....

Morosely, Tess looked around her neat, clean office. She'd never felt more unhappy. Gib had tried to talk her into coming to the ranch for her thirty-day leave, but she'd refused. Right now, Gib and Dany needed time to sort out their chaotic lives and settle into their marriage, she'd told him. Gib had reluctantly accepted her explanation. Tess hadn't voiced her real reasons. Gib and Dany didn't need her around. Gib was still adjusting to the loss of his foot, and Tess felt emotionally raw and unable to deal with her brother's suffering.

Right now,
Tess admitted, as she touched her blouse where her heart pounded,
I can't handle any more pain—my own, Gib's or anyone else's. What's wrong with me?

* * *

“Haven't you found Tess yet?” Pete couldn't hide his raw emotional state from Gib at the other end of the phone. Three weeks after Tess had left Nam, he still hadn't heard from her and he'd grown worried. Pete had contacted Adams, Tess's supervisor, and had found that she'd been unable to adjust to the office job. One morning she had left a note on Adams's desk, apologizing and saying that she couldn't deal with anything, that she needed time off to rest. That message was the last Pete had heard. Now he was reduced to infrequent contact with Gib to try to find out where Tess had gone. In his heart Pete knew combat stress was making her run.

Wrangling some time off to fly into Saigon, Pete had managed to get an overseas connection to Gib at the ranch. His hand tightened around the phone as he waited for the hollow sound of Gib's voice to answer his question.

“Pete, we haven't been able to locate her.”

“Did you check back with Adams, her supervisor? Maybe she's gone back there by now.”

“I called him a week ago, and she hadn't shown up.” Gib's voice sounded heavy with frustration and worry. “She's just dropped off the face of the earth. We're doing everything in our power to find her.”

“Dammit!” Rubbing his face tiredly, Pete said, “Hire a private investigator, Gib. I'll pay half the costs. Tess must have gone somewhere to run and hide. She's got battle fatigue.”

“Battle fatigue? But how...never mind, it doesn't matter.” Gib's voice was leaden. “Look, Dany and I are at the end of our rope. We've checked out all of Tess's favorite places where she used to like to hike. Hiring a private investigator is a good idea. I'll get right on it.”

“She needs help, Gib. Lots of help fast.”

“If we find her, I'll have the Red Cross give you the message.”

“And if you don't?” Pete wanted to cry. Not for himself, but for Tess. She was hiding, just as his other advisor friend had done.

Gib sighed. “Then I don't know. All I can do is try, Pete. Once I recuperate from this injury, I'll go after her myself, but God, she could be anywhere...anywhere in the world.”

Pete wouldn't put it past Tess to try to sneak back into Vietnam under false pretenses just to be with her villagers, her old way of life, once again. If she did accomplish that, it would be the worst thing she could do. “I'll wait to hear from you, Gib. I love Tess. Do you understand me? She loves me, too.”

“I know you do. No one wants to find her more than we do.”

“Okay...thanks. Goodbye.” Pete hung up the phone and sank against the chair at the desk. From where he stood, he could see busy, polluted Saigon. A friend of his, an American importer, had loaned him his office to make the call to the States. Tears flooded into Pete's eyes until, with a muffled sound, he forced them back and took a deep, shaky breath of air.

Pete realized a sense of helplessness he'd never before encountered. The past weeks without word from Tess had been hell, but it had helped him grow into a newfound emotional world where love did exist. Never had he loved anyone as he did Tess, and he was damned if he was going to lose her. Instinctively, Pete knew he could help her if he could find her, but he had almost four more months of duty to serve before he could leave.

Each day that went by without Gib finding Tess meant a greater possibility of Pete losing her—permanently. Gib knew Tess's favorite Texas haunts. Could he find her? And if he didn't, what could Pete do?

* * *

Mexico was going to be a haven of safety for her, Tess thought. It was the only choice that made logical sense to her in her upside down, turbulent world. Guilt and shame plagued her as she rode the bus headed for the Mexican border outside El Paso. Right across the Rio Grande sat Ciudad Juárez. Working with the poor was the only thing she knew that gave her any sense of safety and stability from the fear that plagued her.

Clenching her fist in her lap, Tess knew she had to get back to a world she loved. She was no stranger to the suffering of Mexico's masses, who left their meager farms in hope of finding a better way of life in the city. But the farmers and their huge, impoverished families often ended up even worse off as a result of their move.

Tess stared blindly out the bus window. She knew she could help people caught in the vise of poverty; that was what her life had been comprised of for years. She'd help Mexico's poor, just as she'd helped the villagers of South Vietnam. God, how she missed her people! The memory of them was the only thing that gave her solace, that gave her steadiness in her otherwise out-of-control world. She had to help the poor improve their lot in life.

Anguish gripped Tess. She'd picked up the phone so many times to call Gib, to ask for help. But he was still mending and healing himself. She refused to add herself as a burden to Gib's already transformed life. And Pete—Tess gave a little cry and felt the pain in her heart. She loved Pete, and she needed him desperately. But he wasn't here. Tess worried about him—he could be killed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was alone. Abandoned. Was this how Pete had felt as a child? Tess didn't know why she felt so confused, so unable to cope with American society. Nothing was right, and the only thing that could make it right was Pete's presence. He gave her hope and strength. But he was in Vietnam....

Perhaps if I go to Mexico, I'll stabilize and I'll be okay. And then I can go home once I'm well.
Or could she? Tess was no longer sure, not even about Gib, who had always been there for her.

Why am I feeling so alone? So cut off? I can't stop crying. The nightmares won't leave me alone. I die inside at every little sound.... I'm going crazy.... There's no hope for me....

* * *

“You're taking R and R Stateside?” Army Lieutenant Barnard asked Pete as they stood in line to get on the freedom bird, a Continental jet, at Tan Son Nhut air base.

Pete was dressed in his tan uniform, a small leather satchel in hand. “Yeah, that's right.”

“Man, you could go to Hong Kong, Japan or Hawaii. Why Stateside? You only got a week, buddy.”

“Got some business there,” Pete said grimly and turned away, not wanting to discuss his reason any further with the army officer. It had been a month since he'd last seen Tess. Gib hadn't been able to locate her, despite hiring a detective. There had been many false hopes raised. Over time, Pete's love and concern for Tess grew. Instinctively, he knew that if he could find Tess, he could coax her back no matter where or why she was hiding. One week was all he had to find Tess. A lousy seven days. He would rent a car at the Midland airstrip when he landed. Pete prayed Gib and Dany would have good news about Tess.

As Pete took his seat on the huge jet, his nerves jangled. The last month of combat had changed him—forever. He'd already had two birds shot out from under him. His hands shook uncontrollably at times. He'd spilled more than one drink on himself at the O club after a bad mission. Sitting down, Pete strapped himself in and pushed the satchel beneath the seat in front of him. Closing his eyes, he lay back, sleep taking over almost immediately. It was going to be a long flight home. Home to try to find Tess.

* * *

Tess felt the potent tequila start to numb her tongue, then her mouth, throat and finally the mass of raw, unstable feelings that kept her gut knotted. She sat alone outside a Mexican cantina late at night, drinking the liquor to try to prevent the terrifying nightmares that so often awakened her when she finally stumbled home. She lifted another shot glass of the clear liquor to her lips and tipped back her head. One more shot, and she knew that she would go to sleep and not relive the dreams.

Tess hated herself for her weakness, but she was unable to fight it any other way. The last month had been quicksand, and she felt like she was drowning more and more every day. The only way she kept her sanity was by helping José and his family of twelve. She cared for the children and washed clothes down at the Rio Grande; they fed her a meager portion of their food in return. Tess was grateful that neither José or Luna, his wife, asked her about her past.

Miserably, Tess looked down at her hands. They were red, rough and callused, the nails chipped and in dire need of care. Her clothes needed to be washed, and so did her hair. Tess knew she should care about herself, but the feeling of shame held her frozen into immobility until even the simple tasks of daily life seemed like overwhelming obstacles to her.

In her fogged brain, Tess thought of Pete. Her heart cried out for him, but her head shouted that she was no longer deserving of him. Look at what she had sunk to. Look at her. A Third-World refugee herself. Besides, if Pete really loved her, he'd come for her, and he hadn't. Time had lost all meaning. Why had she trusted Pete in the first place? Believed that he'd loved her? He was just like Eric—walking away from her after he'd gotten what he wanted....

* * *

“This might help you,” Gib offered Pete. He passed a piece of paper across the dining-room table to him. “I got this information late last night and couldn't wait to give it to you.”

Gib's voice was emotionally charged, hope burning in his eyes. Rubbing his jaw tiredly, Pete focused on the detective's latest report. He'd arrived at the ranch minutes earlier via a rented car. To his right sat Dany, Gib's obviously pregnant wife. He was happy for them, happy that their terrible, individual tragedies had ended in a mutual love that had sustained them through some trying times. They'd both lost so much. Blinking his burning eyes, Pete read the short paragraph, a report from the Hispanic investigator, Manuel Ortega, hired to try to track down Tess. His heartbeat tripled and he gasped.

“He found Tess? She's in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico?”

“Yes,” Gib said excitedly, bringing out a map of Texas and Mexico. With Dany's help, they opened it on the round maple table. Gib pointed to the area. “Take a look, Pete. Ciudad Juárez sits on the other side of the Rio Grande—across from El Paso, Texas.”

“What the hell is she doing there?” Pete muttered, studying the map intently.

“I don't know. I talked to Ortega yesterday afternoon on the phone. He spotted Tess at a cantina as he went around with her photo asking bartenders if they'd seen or heard of her. Later, he followed her, and she ended up at a cardboard hut. Apparently she's living there with a Mexican family. He doesn't know much more. He only found her late yesterday and hasn't had time to investigate further. My guess is that she's helping the poor the way she did in Nam. Maybe she feels safe doing that. I don't know.” Gib handed him a small manila envelope. “This arrived earlier this morning by special courier. Ortega got pictures of Tess. You'd better prepare yourself, Pete....”

Pete quickly opened the folder. There were three black-and-white photos of Tess. “My God—” His heart slammed against his ribs. The photos had been taken from quite a distance, but Pete recognized Tess. She was gaunt, almost like a skeleton, her eyes sunken and lifeless. In one photo, she was sitting outside a cardboard shack with a poor Mexican family, a little baby on her lap. Tess was wearing old, cast-off clothes. At the second photo, Pete winced.

“She's drinking?” He glanced up sharply at Gib, who shrugged.