Tomorrow's Promise

by Sandra Brown

  All of that was conveyed in one puissant glance. She hadn't dared to look at him during the remainder of the flight nor since they had been ushered into this reception room and erroneously told that a spokesman for the army would he with them shortly.

  Even had she been inclined to look at or talk to Dax against all common sense to the contrary, the eagle-sharp eyes of Al Van Dorf prevented her. He watched her like a scientist watches a cell under a microscope. Keely knew that each move she made, each word she spoke, were being carefully chronicled in his notebook. She had come to loathe the sight of that green looseleaf tablet and the busy pencil. For all his covert surveillance, he had approached her but once.

  His strolling gait had brought him to the small sofa on which she and Betty sat. He stood in front of her, forcing her to look up at him like a petitioner. "Mrs. Williams, are you optimistic that your husband is among these twenty-six men?" He fired the question at her without preliminary small talk.

  "I'm trying not to be too optimistic," she replied.

  "Do you hope he is?"

  She jerked her head up and glared at the reporter with stormy green eyes. "Either you are incredibly stupid, Mr. Van Dorf, or the question is unworthy of you. Either way, I refuse to answer it." She could feel Betty's surprised eyes on her, but she continued to stare down Van Doff. At last she won, and he dropped his eyes to his hateful notebook and made a notation that she knew was intended to frighten her.

  Betty cleared her throat diplomatically. "Mr. Van Dorf, I'm afraid that both Mrs. Williams and I are rather too wrapped up in our own thoughts to he very cordial about answering questions just now. If you'll excuse us, please," she said.

  Van Dorf bowed to her slightly but said, "I have one last question for Mrs. Williams." Turning back to her, he asked, "Did you know that Congressman Devereaux was coming along on this trip?"

  "No. Not until I saw him board the airplane." That was an honest answer.

  Van Dorf grinned that foxlike grin and asked suggestively, "Why do you suppose he did?"

  Keely knew the question was asked in hopes of dismantling her composure. She looked up at him placidly and answered, "You should ask Congressman Parker that. He himself told me he had invited Congressman Devereaux to come."

  "Seems strange," Van Dorf mused aloud, "that out of all the congressmen in Washington, he would choose Devereaux."

  "Not at all," Betty said. She was on Keely's team even though she wasn't sure what game they were playing. "Congressman Devereaux served on that subcommittee, as you well know, Mr. Van Dorf. He supported our cause and was against that bill. He's a veteran of the Vietnam War. Why you're surprised that he should be here, I can't fathom. Now, please, neither I nor Keely feel like talking."

  Van Dorf didn't take hints too well, but he ambled off after staring down Keely once more with deadly eyes behind the deceptively meek eyeglasses.

  "Thank you," she said to Betty when he was out of earshot.

  "What is it with him and you? Why does he keep asking you about Devereaux?"

  "I don't know."

  "Are you sure?"

  She looked quickly at Betty, but then away guiltily. She was spared having to answer when one of the Marines stationed at the embassy marched up to Betty.

  "Mrs. Allway?"

  "Yes?"

  "Will you come with me please at the request of General Vanderslice?"

  Betty looked quizzically at Keely, who shrugged her shoulders, then stood up to be escorted by the uniformed man through the ornately carved doors.

  Another hour went by, in which Keely sat alone. At any given time she knew what Dax was doing, though her eyes never singled him out. He ran a weary hand around his neck. He shook off his suit coat and draped it over the back of a chair. He unbuttoned his vest. He looked at her. He coughed three times, crossed to the table where ice and canned soft drinks were available. He poured a Coke into a plastic cup, took one swallow, and then abandoned it on the table. He looked at her. He locked his fingers high over his head, stretching expansively. He conversed in undertones with Congressman Parker. Together they looked toward the door through which Betty had passed with the Marine, then started talking again. He looked at her.

  The door behind the podium was flung open by two Marines who barely had time to clear it and snap to attention before General Vanderslice bustled through. Not one of his silver hairs was out of place. His uniform jacket buttoned over his solid torso with a meticulous fit. His eyes darted over the room, assessing the situation even as he strode toward the mounted microphone. His carriage was a textbook of perfect military bearing.

  Everyone in the large room ceased speaking as though a switch had been turned off. All eyes riveted onto the commanding presence of the general, who placed a sheaf of papers on the lectern.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, your patience is commendable. I know how anxious you have been. I realize the limitations of comfort this room affords. I know you've had no rest since the long flight. I apologize for the delay, which seems inherent to an occasion of this importance." His speech was as precise and clipped as his body language.

  He cleared his throat and glanced at the papers under the microphone. Keely looked down at her clenched hands, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her glands refused to secrete any saliva, and her tongue, when she tried to swallow, only stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  "I want to introduce a man to you. Often in my military career, I have paid homage to men others considered to be heroes. Through whatever motivation, these men exhibited inconceivable courage and valor."

  He paused and drew a deep breath. "William Daniel Allway was a major when he was sent to Vietnam sixteen years ago. This morning he has been promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel."

  Keely clamped her fingers over her mouth to cover her cry of joy. Bill Allway! Betty's husband. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, but she wasn't even aware of them as she looked toward the doors behind the podium to see a tall, bony man in an ill-fitting army uniform leaning against Betty's supportive arms.

  General Vanderslice turned toward the couple and said kindly, "Colonel Allway, will you and Mrs. Allway come forward, please."

  The cacophonous racket that roared through the room was only a small element of the pandemonium that broke loose. Cameras popped like fireworks. The applause and cheering was deafening. Many, caught up in the enthusiasm of the moment and forgetting decorum, jumped onto chairs, whooping and hollering, giving Bill Allway a true hero's welcome.

  Keely jumped to her feet, applauding tearfully for the safe return of her friend's husband. One thing was undeniably certain: Mark Williams was not among these few men. Had he been, she would have been called away for a private reunion with him as Betty had been.

  When the celebration finally began to recede to a dull roar, Bill Allway approached the microphone. He was thin to the point of emaciation. What hair he had left was white. His cheeks were sunken, his nose pinched, his eyes ringed with dark circles. But he was radiant as he clutched his wife to him tightly.

  General Vanderslice tried to be heard over the ruckus. "As most of you know, Mrs. Allway has faced her husband's long absence with the same indomitable spirit that he has shown. I know, because I've had more than one run-in with her." Laughter rumbled through the room. "I can't tell you what pleasure I felt to know that Bill Allway was one of these returning men and that Mrs. Allway, because of her involvement in PROOF, was also here. Colonel Allway, as top-ranking officer and leader of the returning MIAs, has requested the privilege of introducing them to you. Colonel Allway."

  Bill and Betty unabashedly clung to each other as he assumed General Vanderslice's position behind the lectern. He looked down at her and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Again the crowd went wild.

  Betty looked beautiful. Love exuded from her as her eyes stayed glued on her husband. He finally brought his shadowed eyes back to the crowd and addressed the suddenly hushed room.

  "It's … it's … so good to see American faces
again." His voice cracked and he ducked his head self-consciously. He shouldn't have worried about the tears that flooded his eyes. Many eyes in the crowd were moist with emotion.

  "You are all curious, I know, to learn how we made it out, where we've been, and how we got there. You'll he briefed thoroughly, I promise." He smiled, and the stretching skeletal expression was heart-wrenching. "It will take days and even weeks to fill you in on the details that, in my instance, encompass fourteen years. As you must understand the armed services will have to analyze the information we've brought out with us before it becomes public knowledge."

  General Vanderslice interceded momentarily. "There will be a press conference immediately after we identify the men with Colonel Allway." He stepped back and Bill Allway had the floor again.

  "The names will be read alphabetically along with the soldier's hometown and the date he was reported missing."

  Television cameras from all over the world were aimed at both Bill Allway and the doorway through which each soldier would pass.

  "Lieutenant Christopher David Cass, Phoenix, Arizona, June 17, 1969. Lieutenant George Robert Dickins, Gainesville, Florida, April 23, 1970."

  Each man was applauded and cheered. Keely, like everyone else in the room, was bursting with happiness for each of the depleted soldiers who passed shyly through the door. They had survived years of deprivation, disease, starvation, torture, and battle, and yet they seemed afraid of the lights, the people, the cameras, the attention. They all sported new haircuts. Their uniforms were new, if loosely fitting. And their faces bore the ravages of their experiences like identifying badges.

  When he had read through the list and twenty men stood solemnly at the front of the room, Bill Allway said, "There are five men unable to be introduced here. Two of them are critically ill, so we are withholding their names for a few hours until they can he examined and their conditions more accurately appraised."

  He drew Betty closer to him and continued. "I'm not a chaplain, but if Chaplain Weems will indulge me, I'd like to offer a prayer."

  Even the most steadfast atheist couldn't argue with an appeal like that. Every head in the room was bowed, save for the photographers holding the video cameras in focus. A hush fell over the room. Bill's voice was as scratchy as sandpaper, but had he been a renowned orator, he couldn't have commanded such keen attention.

  "Father, it is with exultant hearts that we come to you in thankfulness for life, for deliverance, for freedom. We pray for the countless men still struggling for survival. They remain nameless and faceless, yet You know them. Make them aware of You. Those of us who have been in hell know that Your presence can be felt even there. We, who against all odds, are alive today, pray that our lives will be lived honorably and to Your glory. Amen."

  If previously there were any dry eyes left in the room, there were no longer. A subdued General Vanderslice approached the microphone while Bill Allway assisted his wife off the platform. "We ask your indulgence. It has been suggested that the press conference take place two hours from now in this room. That will allow you to take a much needed break and give these men time to collect their thoughts. I'm sure you can all understand a certain confusion and bewilderment on their part." He consulted a silver wristwatch and said, "The press conference will begin at three o'clock. Thank you all."

  The door closed behind the returned soldiers as they filed through it. Bright lights were switched off. Cameras were replaced in their metal boxes. Cigarettes were lighted. Coats were retrieved. The lighthearted, jubilant, and triumphant mood prevailed as members of the press corps, dignitaries, and advisers gravitated toward the wide double doors.

  Keely, no longer a focus of attention, dropped back onto the couch and stared absently at the carpet. Only when another pair of shoes, black loafers, came into her field of vision, was she cognizant of her surroundings. She raised her eyes slowly up the long legs, past the belt buckle with the congressional seal stamped into the gold, past the necktie long since loosened for comfort, to the face she loved.

  The rich dark eyes begged her forgiveness, forgiveness for feeling a twinge of relief that Mark Williams hadn't walked through the door. Her eyes told him that she understood his relief. Her lips couldn't quite produce a smile.

  "I'm sorry. Do you believe me?" he asked for her ears alone.

  "Yes."

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared over her head at the picture on the wail of Washington crossing the Delaware. "What will you do now?"

  She dropped her head and noticed a coffee stain on her skirt. She must truly look a mess. When had she last showered, slept, changed her makeup, eaten? She couldn't remember.

  "I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Right now I can't think past a bath and a few hours' sleep."

  "It was an unfair question."

  She looked up at him again. "No, it wasn't."

  Most everyone else had left, but they weren't aware of it. He knew by the look on her face that she was suffering and he cursed his inability to comfort her. I want to hold you, Keely. "Are you going to the hotel before the news conference?"

  Dax, I need you. "Yes. I guess so."

  He moved aside as she stood up and gathered her belongings. You look so helpless. "Have you got everything?"

  I feel so helpless. I need your strength. "Yes. I was told our luggage would already be at the hotel."

  "Good." Do you want me to hold you?

  Yes. "Yes."

  "Do you know which hotel they've designated you? They had to divide us up from what I understand. Tourist season." I wish you were in my room.

  "They told me I'd be at the Crillon." I wish I were staying with you. I'm afraid when you aren't with me.

  Thank God. I can keep an eye on you. "Me too."

  Thank God. You won't be far away. "Good."

  They had reached the front of the building now where members of the delegation were being loaded into waiting limousines. Actually it would have almost been easier to walk, since the hotels were so close, but since the courtesy was being offered, no one was refusing it.

  "We have room for one more for the Crillon," said one of the embassy attachés. "Mrs. Williams?"

  She turned and looked beseechingly toward Dax. She didn't want to leave him. "You'd better go on and take full advantage of the time allotted," he said kindly, thinking he'd die if he couldn't touch her soon.

  "I'll wait. I don't— Thank you again, Congressman Devereaux, for your concern. I'll never give up hope."

  He knew by her sudden switch in tone and dialogue that Van Dorf was more than likely lurking near them. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it. "I'm holding up the others. Goodbye." She shook hands with Dax perfunctorily and then went down the steps to be whisked away in the limousine.

  Dax stood there, bereft, looking after the black limousine. "She seems upset," Van Dorf commented at his side.

  Dax shot him a deprecating look. "Wouldn't you be, Van Dorf? She had a glimmer of hope that her husband might yet be alive, and not only was he not among the men who have come back, but she still doesn't know his status or hers."

  "Surprising," Van Dorf said offhandedly.

  Against his better judgment, Dax took the bait. "What is?"

  "Her seeming concern over her husband."

  Dax could feel his blood rising. "Why is it surprising?"

  Van Dorf laughed scoffingly and it was a nasty sound. "Oh, come off it, Congressman. You're a man of the world. She's a hot little broad. How long do you think a sexy looker like her can live without a man? One month? Two?" He laughed again. "Surely not twelve years."

  The French temper that flowed with every beat of Dax Devereaux's heart had never been so provoked. His hands formed iron fists at his sides and it was all he could do to keep them there and away from Van Dorf's throat.

  "In your case, Van Dorf, ignorance isn't bliss, but a pity. You obviously don't recognize honor and decency in anyone else because you've never found them in yourself."

/>   Dax stalked away, still marveling over the fact that he had kept himself from murdering the man. Van Dorf watched his angry departure, smiling with evil relish.

  * * *

  Keely bathed, washed her hair, and cleaned her face before collapsing across the bed. She awoke an hour later when her tiny travel alarm went off. She sat up, groggy and befuddled. The short nap might possibly have done more harm than good.

  Dragging herself off the bed, she considered skipping the press conference, but immediately decided against that. She had to go. Her absence would appear graceless and would no doubt be noted in news accounts. Especially those written by Van Dorf. She hadn't even spoken to Betty yet and she wanted to meet Bill.

  Her dress was a straight sack that she belted with a gold link belt. The green color was springlike, but the long cuffed sleeves would keep her warm. She brushed her hair and didn't even bother with electric curlers. Its natural wave was enough for now, encouraged as it was by the early Parisian spring humidity.

  Arriving back at the embassy, she noted that the reception room had been swept, cleared of debris, and aired. A long table with a row of microphones had been set up instead of the single lectern that had been used that morning.

  She took a seat in the last row of chairs and graciously accepted numerous condolences, assuring the sympathizers that she was grateful for the safe return of the men who had made it. Officially she said, "I think this only reinforces that our government's efforts to secure information about the MIAs not be abandoned. There is still a very real possibility that many more men are in Vietnam and Cambodia struggling to get out alive. I hope that what we hear from the survivors today will shed some new light on the problem."

  She saw Dax come in and take a position next to Congressman Parker along the wall in front of the windows. He nodded imperceptibly and she drew strength from even that small gesture.

  As promised, General Vanderslice began the proceedings on time. The returnees took seats behind the table, Bill Allway in the middle, Betty seated in an extra chair directly behind him.