Her Daddy's Eyes

by Gary Parker

  “What side?”

  “If you marry Trey and then find out down the road that you weren’t right for each other. What’s that going to cost you—in terms of hurt, embarrassment, dollars even?”

  Allie rubbed her forehead. “Do you believe in a one and only when it comes to love? A soul mate, as people say it today?”

  Chase brushed back his hair. “I believe in a perfect will of God; if we find that, we’ll find the person we’re supposed to spend our lives with.”

  “But what if we mess it up? Humans do that, you know. What if we don’t find that perfect will of God? Are we doomed to misery the rest of our lives?”

  “Don’t think so. If we look to God for guidance, God will help us take what we’ve chosen and find joy in it. Perhaps not the ultimate joy we could have had, but joy just the same.”

  Allie’s brow furrowed, and Chase continued. “Let me give you an example. Imagine life is a trip.” He leaned closer as he talked. “Sometimes you drive along on the main highway. That’s the best highway—widest lanes, best views, brightest lights, highest quality restaurants, easiest traffic, straightest route to your destination. So long as you stay on that highway, everything is great. But suppose you make a wrong turn somewhere—maybe you got confused, maybe you got misdirected, but you head off on another route. This road has potholes all over it, wrecks here and there, bandits along the way, briars and brambles growing up along the sides. You’re still headed toward your destination, but this road twists and turns and goes through all kinds of trouble to get there.”

  “So God’s perfect will is the main highway?”

  “You’re so smart.”

  “And the other way is what happens when we step out of God’s perfect will.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We’re not doomed on it; we can still find our way in life, but without quite as much ease, joy, and satisfaction as we would have experienced if we’d stayed on the main highway.”

  “You got it.”

  “God doesn’t desert us on the other road?”

  “Of course not.”

  Allie leaned back. “It makes some sense,” she said.

  “Glad to be of help.”

  Her headache softened a little.

  “One other thought,” Chase said.

  “Are we taking another highway?”

  He grinned. “Not exactly. Have you considered that maybe God is using this search for your dad to create the space between you and Trey?”

  “So you can squeeze through it?”

  “Forget about me. Think about you and Trey.”

  Allie mulled the matter over. “You’re saying God brought this situation to me so Trey and I could go through this conflict to discover we’re not meant for each other?”

  “I’m just raising the question—I don’t have a clue what the answer is.”

  “But that’s saying that finding my dad is a means to an end.”

  “That’s possible. Or one more thing...”

  “My head is spinning.”

  “Last thought, I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  “Suppose it’s both. God wants you to find out about your dad. That stands on its own. But while you’re going through that, you also find out about you and Trey. God didn’t create the one for the other, but God uses the one, as it happens, to reveal the other.”

  The flight attendant approached and offered them a drink, and Allie and Chase asked for water. The attendant handed over the water and some peanuts and walked off. Allie opened the water bottle, swallowed a big drink, and faced Chase again.

  “What about you?” she asked, eager to escape the spotlight for a second.

  “What about me?”

  “Your love life, God’s perfect will.”

  He ripped open his peanuts. “Not much to say.”

  “But you had somebody special in your life. What happened to her?”

  “I’m eating my peanuts,” he said, holding up the bag. “Can’t talk with my mouth full.”

  “You know all kinds of stuff about me and Trey,” she protested. “Time for you to spill some beans.”

  He washed his peanuts down with the rest of his water and dropped his eyes. “It’s nothing too dramatic,” he said. “Bore me, then. We’ve got two hours.”

  “One or the other of us missed God’s will,” he said. “To this day, I still don’t know which.”

  “Explain, please.”

  “She lived in Nashville, a lawyer. Cheryl Booth. I knew her from college. We dated for two years; I thought we were ready for the next level. I bought a ring. But when I got down on my knees, she pulled me back up and said that was as good a time as any to inform me she didn’t think it would work.”

  “Why not?”

  He licked his lips. “Seems my lifestyle wasn’t what she wanted.”

  “Your lifestyle?”

  “A carpenter—too low on the social ladder for her liking.”

  “She said that to you?”

  “Not in so many words, but I knew that’s what she meant when she said our lifestyles didn’t match.”

  “But don’t you make a decent living?”

  “Yes, you’d be surprised. And I told her I’d move to Nashville, rent a shop, do designer furniture. That wasn’t enough. I didn’t understand it then, but looking back, I can see her point. She needed somebody comfortable in a tuxedo, somebody smooth with politicians, lobbyists, high and mighty folks. I never would have enjoyed that.”

  “So she did you a favor?”

  “If tearing a man’s heart out is a favor, yes, she’s a heck of a gal.”

  Allie smiled lightly. “Did she prevent you from finding God’s will, or did she set you loose to find it?”

  “She set me loose to wait for you, so I guess it’s the latter.”

  “But I’m going to marry Trey.”

  “Then why am I here and not him?”

  Allie’s headache returned, and she leaned against the seat. “I still haven’t exactly figured that one out.”

  Chase laughed, and Allie relaxed for a moment. “I’m glad you came,” she said.

  “Another chance for me to weasel my way into your heart,” he said.

  “No, seriously, you didn’t have to do this. When I called you, after Trey said no, I realize you had to rearrange some things.”

  “I didn’t want you alone in this,” he said. “I did what any friend would do, especially one who wants to marry you.”

  “One thing at a time,” she said softly. “Let’s find my dad then worry about that.”

  “A good idea.”

  Allie drank the rest of her water and closed her eyes. In a couple of hours, she would talk to Rose Linh. If that went well, she might know where to find her father by the time the sun broke on a new day. That was worry enough for one trip.

  11

  The plane landed at just past six, and Allie and Chase climbed off, got their rental car, and headed straight for Rose Linh’s house, Chase behind the wheel.

  “I told her we could get there about seven thirty,” Allie explained as she pored over the hand-drawn map she’d sketched with the directions.

  “You navigate, and I’ll pilot.”

  They fell into quiet as they made their way in and out of St. Louis traffic, both of them lost in their own ruminations. A light rain fell outside, and Chase switched on the wipers. Allie glanced at him and smiled shyly. No matter what else came from this, she’d found a genuine friend.

  Thirty minutes later they reached the street where Rose Linh lived, and Chase pulled the car to a stop in front of the number the woman had given Allie. Small, square houses, a couple of bedrooms at most, squeezed in together on the street. A few trees grew in some of the yards but not many, and no sidewalks led from the street to the houses. The yards were largely weeds. There were tufts of grass growing here and there but not much. A gaggle of young men wearing skull caps stood by a rundown car in a yard two houses down, apparently oblivious to the mi
sty rain. Most of them held cigarettes, the smoke from their lips rising into the air. They stared at Chase and Allie, their gaze a cross between bored and belligerent.

  “I’m glad you came with me,” Allie told Chase.

  “I know.” He patted her hand, and his touch warmed her, but she gritted her teeth against it.

  “It’s time,” she said.

  “You ready?”

  She climbed out and hustled through the square yard to the front door, Chase right behind.

  A petite woman about her age opened the door before they made it to the front steps. She wore a blue-jean skirt, a pullover pink sweater, and simple black pumps. Her haircut surrounded her round face.

  “My name is Rose Linh,” she said.

  Allie introduced herself, then Chase.

  “Please come in,” Rose Linh said, pointing them through the door.

  Allie and Chase walked through, Rose Linh following. She directed them to a small but neatly tended sitting area to the right. Allie perched on the edge of a sofa, Chase beside her. Rose Linh took a spot in a wicker chair across from Allie. The room smelled fresh, like lemon. Allie folded her hands and inspected Rose Linh toe to head. Tiny feet, slender frame, hands like a doll’s, smooth skin, round face, eyes Asian but cheeks and mouth more American—definitely the offspring of an American and a Vietnamese. Just as obviously, she’d assimilated into American ways, the language, the clothing, even her name, Rose. Allie looked into her eyes and again felt the odd sensation of having seen them before. A touch of resentment hit her again—how could her dad do such a thing?

  Rose Linh spoke. “You say you’re Jack Wilson’s daughter.”

  “Yes.”

  “You bring the picture?”

  Allie pulled several pictures from her purse and handed them to Rose Linh, who smiled slightly as she examined them and then handed them back to Allie.

  “You’re definitely his daughter,” Rose Linh said. “Same tall body, long fingers, black eyes.”

  “You also have black eyes,” Allie said, almost breathless.

  Rose Linh tilted her head slightly, and her eyes brightened. “You think I’m also Jack Wilson’s daughter?”

  Allie shrugged and tried to look indifferent, but her stomach churned inside. Rose Linh suddenly stood and walked from the room, and Allie wondered if she’d insulted her in some manner she didn’t understand. She looked at Chase, but he had nothing to offer. A clock ticked somewhere in the background. Allie tried to stay calm by inspecting the room. Thin lamps sat on two tables. A painting of a thatched jungle hut hung over the wicker chair. Rose Linh reentered, an older woman before her. The woman walked with a limp, but Allie figured her not much older than her own mother.

  Chase stood as the older woman entered, but Rose Linh waved him back down. “This is Nu Than, my mother,” she said. “She will make it all clear to you.”

  Nu Than brushed back her hair, and Allie noticed gray at the temples. Wrinkles curled around her eyes, and her hands shook a little as she placed them in her lap. She glanced at Rose Linh, then focused on Allie.

  “You have face of Jack Wilson,” Nu Than said, her English choppy, with a much stronger accent than Rose Linh’s. “The eyes most of all.”

  Allie wanted to scream at her to say what she most needed to hear. Had her father sired Rose Linh?

  “Rose Linh is not sister to you,” Nu Than said. Allie exhaled, but her heart still pounded.

  “Rose Linh is daughter of an American man your father killed in black of night many years ago.”

  Allie recoiled, and Chase put a hand over hers.

  Nu Than waited as if to give Allie a moment to recover, but she couldn’t find her voice, so Nu Than continued. “Jack Wilson, he feel terrible about the killing, thought he responsible for us, so he give us money before he leave. We had to wait two years, but then... we use the money to come here.”

  Chase squeezed Allie’s hands as she tried to make sense of what she’d just heard. An American had fathered Rose Linh, so how had her father killed him? Nu Than kept talking.

  “A year ago, Jack Wilson found us. Said a cousin of mine, Vietnamese man, see him when he visit Dinh Tuong. Told him where to find us. He come by with some money to give to us. Still carry guilt over the years that pass.”

  Nu Than paused, and Allie tried to get a handle on her emotions. “He left us,” Allie whispered. “My mother said he didn’t feel worthy of us. He drank... fell into black moods, depression.”

  “Because he killed my father,” Rose Linh said. “But how?”

  Nu Than peered at her hands in her lap and began to speak, her tone soft, almost reverent. “Billy Trotter, I fell in love with him. It happened some in those days. GI boys lonely; Vietnam girls eager to please the Americans. Billy Trotter took up with me, spent many nights at my house.” She wiped a tear away, then continued. “Billy Trotter at my house that night, the Vietcong raid a couple of hours before light. Billy Trotter rise from sleep, grab his rifle, run into the dark barefoot, still wearing the black pajamas I gave him for his sleeping.”

  Allie tried to imagine the scene.

  “Night black, much confusion, smoke from many weapons, mortar fire, men running all over, women screaming, babies crying, machine guns blasting.”

  Allie sensed the climax of the story.

  “Jack Wilson, your father, and other GIs, they pour into the village, coming for the Vietcong. Billy Trotter run out of village toward them. Jack Wilson, your father, he shoot at whatever moves. Billy Trotter in black pajamas, smoke everywhere, Jack Wilson, your father, he and his men fire into the village, and Billy Trotter falls dead outside my hut.”

  Nu Than stared into Allie’s eyes. “The Vietcong run away; daylight comes. I find Jack Wilson and Walt Mason by Billy Trotter, his head in your father’s lap, his eyes already empty, your father’s eyes too—empty as broken bottles.”

  Allie bowed her head. It all made sense now.

  “The rest of the time your father stay in Vietnam, he come to care for me and Rose Linh every time possible. He bring us things, give us money—do what he can to make it better for us.”

  “The Marines pressed no charges against him?” Allie asked softly.

  Nu Than shook her head. “He tell me he was cleared of any blame. Billy Trotter not where he should have been. Marines blame Billy Trotter instead of your father. I know that is right, your father not to blame. Bad things happen in war, things no man can avoid or fix when they come.”

  “But my father felt guilty the rest of his life anyway.”

  “Jack Wilson a man with a big heart.”

  Allie looked at Chase, then back to Nu Than. “You say he gave you money?”

  “Yes, before he left, he visited one last time, brought all the money he had. Told us he thought Vietcong sure to win. His money paid for us to come here.”

  Allie focused on Rose Linh. “So you grew up in America.”

  “Since I was a little girl.”

  Allie tried to soak everything in.

  “Jack Wilson tell me of his last trip to Vietnam,” Nu Than said.

  Allie’s eyes widened. “He did?”

  “He went back to my old village, to the place where Billy Trotter fell dead.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Nu Than smiled gently. “Your father tell me that he and Walt Mason hire a jeep, drive into the north country, through the mountains. The place not much changed, he say. He climb out of the jeep, walk into the jungle, overgrown now, the signs of war almost gone. But he say he was still able to find the spot, a small clearing on a hill. Billy Trotter fell there. Your father and Walt Mason, they go to the clearing, Walt Mason then drop back some. Your father, he walk to the spot, hang his head, and stand a long time. Your father kneels, both knees in the dirt. He take up two handfuls of the earth, pour it over his head, almost like ashes. The dirt slide through his hair, over his face. Tears mingle as it passes his eyes. Your father fall on his face in the dirt, his hands grabbing the gr
ound. He lay there still for more time. The sun begins to drop, a light breeze blows in the air. Your father moves, kneels on one knee, and digs for a moment with his hands. Then he takes something from his pocket. He tell me it was a little cross, he never tell me where he got it. He kisses the cross three times, then lays it in the little hole he dug where his tears mixed with the earth. He covers the cross with the ground, and then he pats the dirt and stands. He wipes his eyes and walks away.”

  Allie sat motionless. No wonder her father had suffered so much. She felt so hurt for him, so grieved. Was this what he wanted her to know? Was this why she’d embarked on this quest?

  She looked at Chase and he smiled, and she felt comforted. Yet something still remained to be discovered. She faced Nu Than again.

  “Do you know where he is now?” she asked. “If he’s still alive?”

  Nu Than shook her head, and Allie’s heart fell. “He disappear again after he visit us. Not seen him since.”

  “Was he okay when he left? Did he seem healthy?”

  Nu Than pondered the question for several moments. “He seem happier,” she finally said. “Like something good, something important, happen to him. But his health not the best, I think. He breathe heavy a lot, I see him holding his chest some, like he hurt inside. He not say anything, but I get the feeling... I don’t know... that the journey to Vietnam, the visit to where Billy Trotter fell... that journey was to be his last. I believe he know that too.”

  “He went to Vietnam seeking absolution,” Chase said, speaking for the first time since they entered the house.

  Allie faced him, and he explained.

  “Your father wanted forgiveness,” Chase said, “so he returned to the spot where he believes he committed his greatest sin. It’s a practice repeated in all kinds of religions.”

  “That what he say to me when he comes here last year,” Nu Than said. “He says to me, ‘Forgive me.’ ‘I did a long time ago,’ I say to him.”

  “What happens after forgiveness?” Allie asked, although she already suspected the answer.

  “New life,” Chase said. “Or death.”