The Lilac Bush Is Blooming

by Jan Surasky

  As I spoke Will came through the door with a load of onions he received in payment from a new family in town for reviving their pet goat who had eaten some fertilizer from an open sack lying around in an old barn behind their house. “How about some fresh dug onions?

  “Is there anything a male can lend a hand at around here that needs doing? I see your Uncle John has already left.”

  “He left early to take Aunt Mabel to the Mayberry Chamber of Commerce pancake supper. The garden club has planted a new bulb garden at the post office and tended the gardens around the Mayberry town hall for ten years. Aunt Mabel is accepting the award.

  “You can put the tractor back in the barn. The transmission quit and Uncle John didn’t have time to tinker. How’s the new vet?”

  “Busy. Between fixing up the cats and dogs of the village, I’ve been trying to stop the equine flu that has hit the horse population and the flu that’s sweeping through the cattle stock. I need to call a meeting for better and cleaner conditions for disease control. Most of the dairy and horse farms have been using the same methods for generations.”

  “I know they’ll listen to you. They haven’t had a good vet around here in years. It’s been hard for the locals to wait for nearby city vets to ride the circuit when disease was leveling their stock.”

  “My folks send their condolences and will lend a hand at any time you need it. I know Jester misses Georgie like I do. Ma’s planning to send some casseroles over to lighten your cooking load for next week.”

  “Thanks, Will. Georgie was so fond of your folks.”

  As Will left and Josie hung the wash in the lovely, summer air I started the pot roast, making sure to add our best onions, carrots, and the fresh parsley I picked from the garden just outside the barn. I would let it simmer until I pulled the dry clothes off the line, letting its aroma drift out onto the summer breezes now gently tugging at wet shirt sleeves and the hems of light cotton skirts, the leaves of the nearby maple swaying softly to its rhythm.

  Supper went fast with Mama capable of speaking only a few amenities. Josie and I cleaned up as early as we could.

  Georgie’s spirit was everywhere, in the moonlit fields, and in the wild rose he laid on my bed when Ollie Webster broke my lovelorn fifth grade heart. But, I was determined to put my tears aside and keep my promise to Georgie to tend to Mama.

  As I lay in bed, I looked out the open windows into the dark. I remembered how I ran into Georgie’s room when a shooting star streaked across the sky in hopes he could see it too. The night sky was lit up with what seemed to be hundreds of stars but only one was twinkling. I was certain it was Georgie’s soul looking down on us.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Fall brought cold, brisk winds and the signs of an early winter. The reds, the rusts, the oranges and yellows of the leaves of maples, hawthorns and elms lay across lawns and sidewalks and walkways, wafting along with a gentle wind and playfully settling and crunching beneath the feet of even the most careful walkers. The sun beat down upon the mums and the asters, bathing them in warmth and drying up the mists and dews of the early morning.

  I went back to Baldwinsville Central with a heavy heart but with an urge to enlighten every student who sat in front of me. Richard called me often to fill in for his freshman classes while he was away or working furiously on deadline to finish his first manuscript.

  Taylor’s department store was basking in the glory of weekend events, clowns and pony rides, fashion shows and horseshoe contests, which drew large crowds and counted it a huge success by its first annual founding day celebration bash. Carrie’s lines of casual clothing and ball gowns were selling out at a rapid pace both at Taylor’s and at Bloomie’s, where both Carrie and Jamie had kept their previous contacts, and were poised to compete in the fashion scene of both Paris and Milan.

  Carrie’s baby arrived on a sunny, autumn day, with birth hair the color of Carrie’s and a lusty squall that announced her early arrival. Carrie and Jamie named her Alice Rose, the namesake of two of their favorite grandmothers, but both called her Allie.

  Tad was smitten with Allie and followed Carrie and Jessie Larson, who had come in to help, around with rattles and teddy bears, bath towels and rubber ducks, and the stray dachshund puppy they had taken in named Oscar after one of Carrie’s favorite designers.

  Mama still spoke very little and the twinkle that lit up the soft blue of her eyes ever since I could remember was gone. But, she was cooking as often as she could and caring for Tad and Allie when her spirits allowed.

  Pastor Brown stopped in for weekly visits and Will came for supper if he had a free evening. Uncle John checked on Mama every morning. “Marylee, the hired hands miss your oatmeal raisin cookies and your ham and pot roast lunches.”

  It was a rare warm and sunny evening when Will breezed in for a Friday night supper, a basket of apples in one hand and a jug of cider in the other. “Fresh picked from the orchard behind the animal hospital. Cider hand-pressed by the Coopers across the street.”

  “Sounds like a rare treat. You can roll up your sleeves and help me get this chicken in the roaster.”

  “Will do. How’s Baldwinsville?”

  “I’ve got a great class. We’re on to the classics already. How’s the vet business?”

  “I’ve been saving for a research lab in the back of the animal hospital and I’ve got it almost set up. The lab in New York where I spent the summer has been very generous with their cast-offs. I’ve been keeping up with the latest research on equine flu and I can’t wait to set up a study. There are those in the field who think there is a crossover to human disease as well.”

  “Sounds interesting. I think you’re heading for the Nobel prize.”

  “I would like to cure all the ills on the planet. But, I guess one step at a time will do.”

  I set the table and called Mama into the kitchen. As we sat, the roast chicken steaming on its platter, the mashed potatoes and yellow squash casserole nearby, Mama handed me an unopened envelope she had pulled from the morning mail, its stamp postmarked Vietnam, its address The Parker Family, its return address unknown. I opened it and read aloud.

  Dear Parker Family,

  I am a friend of Anh Ly. My name is Chi Linh. We have lived on the streets of Saigon together since our small village was ransacked and destroyed by the war. Our families were unable to feed us so we made our way to the city to beg for food, taking shelter wherever we could.

  I was present at Anh Ly’s marriage to John George and we celebrated through the night and it was a joyous occasion. But, after he returned to his army base Anh Ly was unable to contact him again as the war got worse to the north to tell him she was to have a baby.

  Anh Ly’s baby was born in an alleyway in Saigon. She was a beautiful baby and Anh Ly named her Mai Li. When she could no longer feed her she begged her family to give her baby refuge and returned to the streets of Saigon where she lost her life to starvation and disease.

  Anh Ly made me promise if anything happened to her that I would send news of the baby to you and the only photograph she possessed of Mai Li which I have enclosed in this humble letter.

  I have been unable to find news of Mai Li’s welfare and am uncertain if she still resides with the family of Anh Ly because they are very poor.

  Anh Ly loved John George very much and prayed every day for his safety.

  I have included the address of a small tavern where they sometimes give me work and where I can be reached if you need me.

  I send my best regards to you and all your family.

  Sincerely.

  Chi Linh

  Devoted Friend of Anh Ly

  We stared at the photograph, a small, thin child with the almond eyes and straight black hair of Anh Ly and the remaining features the spitting image of Georgie.

  Will dried the dishes and left for home, weary from a day at his beloved animal clinic and Mama went upstairs. I tidied up alone with my thoughts.

  I thought about our ances
tors, their hardships, their deeds, their courage and their fears, their tales wrapped in a stack of journals in the heat of an attic above, their spirits so often about the house. I climbed the stairs to my room, avoiding the creaky treads, weariness overtaking me as I tiptoed down the old, narrow hallway, its faded tan carpet threadbare from years of use.

  As I prepared for bed, I thought of the child Mai Li alone in a country so far away. I prayed for her safety as I turned down the heart and daisy chain quilt I had entered into the county fair so long ago. As I lay in bed I stared at the night sky and searched for the star that shone the brightest hoping it would shine over Mai Li one day as well.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I packed my bags as the first snows of winter began to fall. I had taken leave of Baldwinsville Central to search for the child Mai Li and Max had pulled a number of strings to hasten the passport process.

  Will had refused to let me go alone, insisting he had loved Georgie too, and closed down the vet hospital until we returned, leaving a young student on call.

  I had extracted a promise from Carrie that she would look after Mama, no matter how busy she was. She took leave from Taylor’s and hired Jessie Larson to care for Tad and Allie, bringing them for supper to brighten Mama’s day.

  Max had arranged for military transport and the trip was uneventful but we were on our own in Saigon. We were directed to lodgings in a fairly rundown former inn on a side street of the city and worked to formulate a plan as we unpacked.

  The owner of the inn found us a local who agreed to take us to Anh Ly’s family’s village. The heat and the humidity were overwhelming but the local, Minh Dong, a former farmer who had migrated to Saigon when his own village had been devastated, was able to secure a fairly reliable vehicle, a second hand French Renault that sputtered only occasionally.

  Minh Dong, who had not been able to find employment since he had arrived in Saigon but lived with his wife’s family who were all employed by the government, explained that we had arrived at the end of the wet season so we wouldn’t be deluged with downpours, but we would run into some very old roads that had never been repaired since the war.

  The village we arrived at was filled with dilapidated bamboo structures, set about almost randomly. We asked at every home we could find the living quarters of Anh Ly’s family and were directed to a small, run down house at the edge of the village. An old man, with few teeth, answered the door to Minh Dong’s timid knock. As he heard our request, he called a younger woman to the door.

  “Hello. I am Cam Nhu, cousin to Anh Ly. I the only one here to speak English. How do I help you?”

  “We would like to find out about Anh Ly’s baby Mai Li. I am the sister of her husband John George Parker, an American. We had word from a friend of Anh Ly’s that she had left her baby here.”

  “We took her baby in but not able to keep her. We have many mouths to feed and we struggle with no food since village was destroyed. We have seen many starve. We left village when it was attacked but returned when we thought it safe. All our fields destroyed and nowhere to get food. Some have gone to the city to beg but the rest scratch about for food.

  “We are fourteen in our shelter of one room. Mai Li cry a lot because we have no food to give her. Babies gotten by Americans not looked upon well by some people because they blame the war for their misery.

  “We had so much hunger when Mai Li here. A man came and offer us money enough to feed us all for a year if we give Mai Li to him. We have no choice. Her sacrifice has kept us from starving.”

  “Who was this man?”

  “He work for a place called Pleasure Palace. It is in Saigon.”

  We said our goodbyes to Cam Nhu and thanked her for the information. We left with our wishes for a speedy end to the war that was ravishing the countryside.

  As we rode back to the inn, Minh Dong at the wheel coaxing the Renault along the roads torn up by jeeps and tanks and fleeing vehicles, we sat silent, oblivious of the countryside, flat and grassy, stretching for miles, some of it along swollen and murky waterways.

  We enlisted Minh Dong’s help in finding a café for an evening meal and he suggested a place he thought we might find news of what we were looking for. “93-95 Tu Do Street, Café and Bar Imperial. Popular spot with GI’s and underworld black market. Crooks mingle looking for unsuspecting Americans to fleece. Pose like innocent American and maybe you get news of Pleasure Palace.”

  Café and Bar Imperial, a French open-air bar with tiled floors, zinc counters, tables open to both streets, and waiters with white shirts dressed smartly in khakis and flip-flops, was hopping when we arrived, let off by Minh Dong who cautioned us that he would return in exactly two hours.

  Will approached the bar while I found a table, close by the street, and sat, the evening a little cooler than the day but still with the heavy humidity we had found since we had arrived in Saigon. I waited for Will to return to order.

  We ordered beef strips, a plate of dumplings, and a large bowl of spicy noodle soup. Will had two glasses of champagne in his hands he had brought from the bar.

  “The bartender says a man who owns the Pleasure Palace frequents this place every night since he’s been tending bar here. He is looking for rich Americans or wealthy Arab sheiks or those who represent them as clients. He has many repeat customers and considers his wares the best in the business.

  “The bartender said if I’m interested I should make myself known to him. He was pointed out as that man sitting two tables down with a mustache, dark hair, and a rather sinister look. I think I’ll approach him after we order dessert.”

  “You better be careful. The men around him look as sinister as he is.”

  “I plan to exercise some caution. And, I think I see some strong arms hovering about who look like they are protecting the interests of this bar and café.”

  Will rose from our table as soon as dessert was served, an apple tart of sorts, and threaded his way to the man two tables over. The man looked up, a shifty look on his face, and questioned Will. The conversation, despite the smoky atmosphere and the constant chatter, drifted over.

  “American?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want?” A thick French accent accompanied his words.

  “I represent an Arab emir who wants to stay anonymous.

  “He might be interested in what you have to offer. He has requested that I look over your stock and make a judgment.”

  “How many.”

  “He might be interested in ten or fifteen, depending on how good your stock is.”

  The man scowled. “I have the best in the business. I demand unmarked cash paid all at once upfront. If there is any double-crossing, your Arab emir won’t see his next birthday.”

  “I understand. When can I look them over?”

  “Tomorrow. I write the directions on this napkin. There is an old woman who lives there and watches the place. She will answer the door. Tell her Hugo sent you.”

  Will returned to our table and whispered. “I will pay the bartender for our meal and go to the rest rooms. Minh Dong is outside. You walk slowly out of the café and get into Minh Dong’s car. I will leave by the back door and I will meet you on the next block behind the café.”

  It was here that my fright took over but I worked hard to hide it from Will. A few minutes after Will left I slipped slowly out of the café and into Minh Dong’s waiting car. I gave him the directions and he headed for the next block, slowly so we did not arouse suspicion.

  Back at the hotel we formulated our plans for tomorrow. Minh Dong would pick us up at nine. We would get to the Pleasure Palace about ten. Minh Dong and I would wait on the next street over while Will entered the building.

  Will would present himself at the Pleasure Palace and explain that he was there on behalf of a wealthy emir. If all went well, Will would ask to see the girls in a separate room and see them each alone so he could choose. He would pick a few before he picked Mai Li who he was counting on
recognizing from the tattered photograph Chi Linh had sent.

  Will packed a pillow in a duffel bag and poked some holes in the bottom. He also packed a needle filled with a tranquilizer that would put the child out until we were safely away. When he had gotten Mai Li alone he would gently tranquilize her, remove the pillow from the duffel, place Mai Li inside, and leave the house from the entrance that seemed the safest at the time and meet us the next block over.

  The plan was risky, but from what we heard by asking around, none of the black market rings were ever bothered because they regularly paid off the police.

  I went to sleep that night, not certain that I would get much rest in a strange bed so far away from home but I hoped only for Will’s safety and the safety of Mai Li. I put the shade on the small window down because there was nothing to see but buildings with bright shining lights blocking the night sky and the moon.

  Chapter Forty

  The sun poured into the room as I rose to get ready for the day’s events. I could also hear a stirring of activity in the room next door which was Will’s.

  I decided to pick from the few clothes I brought something fairly bland because I didn’t want to stand out either at the inn or on the street. Duc Quan, the inn owner, jovial despite the hardships of the war, set out an American breakfast that made us wish for home.

  Minh Dong arrived on time and we set out, Will carefully guarding his duffel, which many GI’s about the streets of Saigon were carrying, so it wouldn’t look out of place. The heat was oppressive and the dry season very humid.

  We all said nothing, the tension filling the car. Will spoke. “It’s okay, Annie May, we’ll make it. But, if I’m not out by twelve call the American Embassy and get help.”

  “I have the number of the direct contact Max gave me. The embassy contact has been briefed on our mission here.

  “The diplomatic corps isn’t too happy about our goal but they promised to keep it under wraps. If anything happens they have promised us security and an offense to come to our aid if we need it.”